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YALE UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY

HARD KNOCKS
A LIFE STORY o/^/ie
VANISHING WEST

By HARRY (SAM) YOUNG

PORTLAND, OREGON
1915

COPYRIGHT, 19X5
By Hairy Young

Wells & Company
PRINTERS AND PUBLISHERS
PORTLAND, OREGON

DEDICATION
TO those brave and generous men whom
I met and knew along the rugged Life
Journey herein described, I dedicate
these treasures of a fruitful memory. May
those who fell by the wayside rest peacefully,
and those who still trudge on, find Life's
Trail less difficult as they approach its end.
Harry Young

PUBLISHER'S NOTE
IN presenting this book, the publishers feel that
they need not emphasize either its purpose or
its merits. They will speak for themselves. The
reader will need no spur to his interest, nor the
work require either apology or explanation. Inter
est is certain from beginning to end, and few readers
will wish to lay the book aside until they have reached
the end of the rapidly succeeding incidents. If crudity
mar in any respect, it will be quickly forgotten in the
manifest truthfulness and candor of the narrator.
The great lesson of the book is that "truth is
stranger than fiction." The life story here given
belongs to a generation that has not only seen
the world's greatest advancement, but has been
a part of the greatest development of our own
country. It has been a period rich in story, and the ex
periences here detailed run like a thread through the
entire fabric. In the main, they deal not with the
great heroes, — the Carsons, the Custers, and the Buf
falo Bills, — ^but with the great multitude of brave and
adventurous spirits that have swept over the West in
the past generation, and to whose undaunted courage
and tireless energy our development is mainly due.

CONTENTS Page
Dedication  3
Publisher's Note  4
CHAPTER 1  9
A Life in Summary, Effects of Dime Novel Literature,
Etc.
CHAPTER II  '. . . 13
New Ideals, Hugh, the Kentuckian, Off for Fort
Gibson.
CHAPTER III  20
Our Well-Tagged Baggage, Deserted, "Tenderfoot,"
A Strange Offer of Marriage, Etc.
CHAPTER IV  28
In the Creek Indian Country, The Seminoles, Lost on
the Range.
CHAPTER V  35
The Cherokee Strip, Ousted by Uncle Sam, Bank Rob
bers, Buckets of Real Snakes.
CHAPTER VI  41
Santa Fe Extension West, "Wild Bill," Kansas Buf
falo Exterminated in Two Years.
CHAPTER VII  60
Pioneer Life at Fort Dodge, Unsung and Unhung
Heroes, A Tribute to Dance Hall Girls.
CHAPTER VIII  69
Murders for Money, Over the Union Pacific Railroad,
Red Pat the Teamster.
CHAPTER IX  76
On the Chugwater, Fort Laramie, My First Sioux,
Red Cloud, Etc.
CHAPTER X  83
Historic Happenings at and Around Fort Laramie, Cus
toms and Habits of Army Officers, Reminiscences of
Army Officers.
CHAPTER XI  97
Great Powers Invested in Commanding Officers of
Frontier Posts, A Nut for Scientists to Crack, An
Amusing Incident.
CHAPTER XII  109
The Sleep of the Just, In the Platte River, Light on
Indian Policies, Some Famous Sioux Chiefs.
CHAPTER XIII  117
"Sitting Bull," Indians as Beggars and Drinkers, A
High-Grade Indian Funeral, "Red Cloud."

CHAPTER XIV  •126
More Bad Indians, Beef Cattle Issues, Indian Coward
ice, Sioux Enumeration, The Puppy Dog Feast and
What it Accomplished.
CHAPTER XV.  • • • • 134
The Sioux Language, Rise of Tobacco Habit, Indian
Courtship and Marriage, Sioux Theory of the Origin
of Indians.
CHAPTER XVI  ;  142
Sioux War Dance, How Scalping is Done, Sun Wor
shippers, Counting Their Virgins, Horrible Tortures.
CHAPTER XVII  147
How the Interior Department Lost Control of the Sioux,
Un-written History of the Custer Massacre.
CHAPTER XVIII  159
A Tribute to Captain Burke. Calamity Jane.
CHAPTER XIX  176
Jim Duncan, the Great Wagonmaster, Sioux Indians
Attack and Kill My Partner, "Old Mack."
CHAPTER XX  187
Establishing Custer City, the First Town in the Black
HUls.
CHAPTER XXI  192
Organizing the Custer City Scouts, Dying Confession
from a Man Who Did Not Die.
CHAPTER XXII  201
Indians Stealing Montana Herd, Scalping a Sioux.
CHAPTER XXIII  209
First Sermon in Deadwood, Indian Head Celebration,
Death of "Wild Bill."
CHAPTER XXIV  225
A Ride -with Dispatches, The Horse a Faithful Sen
tinel, Comic Happenings in Deadwood.
CHAPTER XXV  241
My Buffalo Venture in Portland.
ADDENDA  243

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Opposite Page
The Author, Harry (Sam) Young  9
The great gun fight between Kansas and Texas gun fight
ers in Tim Shea's dance hall, Ne-wton, Kansas, 1867.
(Sketch)  16
The author killing his first buffalo, Southwestern Kansas.
(Sketch)  32
The invention of the author: Skinning buffalo by mule
power, Southwestern Kansas. (Sketch)  40
J. B. Hickok (Wild Bill)  48
The great Western peace officer, Marshal of the toAvns of
Hayes City, Abeline and Ellsworth, Kansas, from 1868
to 1870. (From a photo taken in 1871.)
A group of Dodge City, Kansas, g:un fighters in 1870. (From
an old photo taken in Kansas City in 1871)  66
Calamity Jane, the great female character of Wyoming
from 1875 to 1906  64
Frank Guard, the great Indian scout, 1875-6. (Sketch) ... 72
The Deering massacre near Fort Laramie, 1873. (Sketch) 80
Sioux Indians running off K Co., 2nd Cavalry, horses, 1873,
Fort Laramie (Sketch)  88
Tieing a soldier up by the thumbs at Fort Laramie, Wyom
ing, 1873. (Sketch)  96
The author tied "spread eagle" on a ca^on. Fort Fetter-
man, Wyoming, 1873. (Sketch)  104
Young Sioux Indians torturing themselves at their Sun
Dance, Red Cloud Agency, 1874. (Sketch)  112
The hanging of three desperate characters at Laramie City,
Wyoming, Oct. 28, 1868. (From an old Daguerrotype) 120
Sioux Indians counting their virgins at their Sun Dance at
Red Cloud Agency, 1874. (Sketch)  128
Tuson Kessler, a Sioux half-breed, escaping from Cheyenne
iaU, 1873. (Sketch)  136
The death of Frank Appleton, acting agent Red Cloud
Agency, 1875. The true cause of the Sioux War, 1876.
(Sketch)  144
California Joe, the great mountaineer and guide in the
Black Hills, S. D. (Sketch)  160
The author parking wood near Fort Fetterman, Wyoming,
where his partner, old Mack, was killed by Sioux In
dians. (Sketch)  176

The author and companions attacked by Sioux Indians,
1876. (Sketch)  192
Monument of the Rev. Smith, the pioneer minister of Dead-
wood, S. D., erected by the citizens  200
The death of Wild Bill, Aug. 2, 1876, at Deadwood, S. D.
(Sketch)  208
Buffalo Bill Cody and friends visiting the grave of Wild
Bill at Deadwood, S. D., 1906  216
The Indian head celebration at Deadwood, S. D., 1876.
(Sketch)  224
The author scalping a dead Sioux Indian, 1876. (Sketch) 240
NOTE: The illustrations in "Hard Knocks" after which the
word "sketch" appears, were drawn from descriptions
furnished by the author.

THE AUTHOR
Harry (Sam) Young

HARD KNOCKS

CHAPTER L
A LIFE IN SUMMARY— EFFECTS OF DIME NOVEL LITER
ATURE—A FOURTEEN- YEAR-OLD RUNAWAY— THE
LOST BROTHER— ALONE IN NEW YORK— OFF FOR
THE WESTERN PLAINS— MY STRANGE FRIEND,
"THE HEALER."
IN this country where blood and station count for
naught, and where the race of life is open to all
comers, it is for little more than a mere matter
of record to say that I, Harry Young, the author,
was born in Cape Vincent, New York, in 1849.
I left my home in 1863, at the age of 14 years, and,
as this narrative will show, have lived in the West
ever since that time. My home is now in Portland,
Oregon, the metropolis of the great Northwest. When
observation shows me what has been accomplished by
the people of this section (to the generation of which
it has been my privilege to belong), I feel a pardon
able pride in the fact that it is in the midst of these
people my life thus far has been spent.
I am not sure that there was much, if any, patriot
ism in my early sentiments, but there was certainly a
decided tinge of romance in my make-up, doubtless due
to my having stored in my brain a considerable amount
of hterature of the dramatic variety. I had read
everything obtainable in the line of dime novels, and
my head was so filled with "hair-raising" stories of
Indians, hunters, trappers, and other denizens of the
Wild West, that I had my mind made up that it was
my duty to go forth and encroach upon the domains
of those nomads and assist in the extermination of the
Noble Red Man.
One beautiful morning I stole away from home and
boarded a vessel called the "Greyhound." I had taken

HARD KNOCKS  Page 10
my departure without going through the formality of
bidding my parents good-bye, or even of obtaining
their consent. The "Greyhound" was bound for
Oswego, New York, and was loaded with shingle
bolts. The distance was short, and, after a two-days'
sail, we arrived at our destination. I worked for two
days helping unload the vessel, for which I received the
munificent sum of two dollars and fifty cents. This
was in "shinplasters, — ^the old money of war times. I
had never been away from home before for more than
two days at a time in my life, except to visit friends
and relatives.
With this two dollars and fifty cents snugly stowed
away in my pocket, I made my way to Fulton, New
York. I was aware before leaving home that my
brother "Bill," as we called him, was working in a mar
chine shop there. I determined to find him if possible.
It was noon when I arrived in Fulton, and I went into
the first machine shop I saw. As I entered, on a lathe
lay a pair of greasy trousers which I recognized as a
part of "Bill's" old working clothes, although he had
been away from home for one year.
I sat down and waited for some of the men to come
back from their dinner. Presently, one of them
walked in and I asked him if "Bill" Young worked in
that shop.
"Yes," he replied, "he's here. You stay with those
old pants and you will find him soon, for they belong
to him." Bill came in shortly afterward and was much sur
prised to see me. He immediately wanted to know
where I was going. I informed him that I was bound
for New York, but did not tell him it was my intention
to become an Indian fighter.
"You may stay here tonight," he said, "but in the
morning you must go back home. I know you have
run away."

Page 11 HARD KNOCKS
I begged to be allowed to go on, and after a while
he consented. The next morning he paid my fare to
New York City. I have never seen him since.
I arrived in New York City that night at ten
o'clock. I shall never forget it. I alighted at the old
Hudson River depot, at Tenth Avenue and Thirtieth
Street, and was carrying an old-style grip-sack. The
hackmen immediately began to crowd around me, each
urging me to ride with him. I did not care to do so
as I now had but sixty-five cents in my pocket.
Presently, one of the hackmen snatched my carpet
bag from my hand, and placing it on the seat of the
vehicle, insisted on my getting in. I refused to do so,
and told my troubles to a passing policeman. He com
pelled the hackman to give up my bag, and asked me
where I wanted to go. On being informed that I was
a stranger in the city wanting to find a cheap lodging
house, he took me across the street to a place having
a lunch counter on the ground floor and rooms upstairs.
I was not hungry, and went to bed without supper.
Shortly after retiring, I was disturbed by some
thing, I knew not what. I sprang up bewildered,
lighted the candle, and turned down the bedding. Good
heavens! My companions were there by the thou
sands. I went down and told the clerk that although
I was fond of Ufe and enjoyed it as much as anyone,
there were times when there could be too much of it,
especially in a bed. I sat up the balance of the night.
The next day I obtained a position as bell boy in
the Weldon Hotel, at the corner of Broadway and How
ard Streets. After working there for several months
I went to New Orleans, from which place I worked my
passage to Memphis on the old steamer "Bismark."
From there I made my way to Fort Smith, Arkansas.
At Fort Smith I became acquainted with a queer
character, the first of many whom I met later on in
the course of my travels. This man was about sixty

HARD KNOCKS Page 12

years old, fully six feet in height, with gray hair, long
gray beard, and the longest arms and fingers I have
ever seen on anyone. He took a great fancy to me and
told me a great many strange things, among them,
that he was "a healer" arid could locate and cure any
disease by the laying on of his hands. He said that
he had just arrived in town, and wanted just such a
boy as myself to sell tickets and distribute handbills
for the public healing which he proposed to do while
there. We finally arrived at an understanding and had
some bills printed, which I distributed. These an-
announced in glowing terms that "The Healer" would
be at the hotel that evening at eight o'clock and would
cure all ills that human flesh was heir to.
When the much anticipated hour arrived, the only
persons present were five old women, one of whom was
an old negro mammy, who had with her a humpbacked
boy. She requested the heeler to remove the de
formity. The healer informed her that he could do
so and asked her to return with the boy at ten o'clock
on the following morning. She became indignant,
saying she had paid ten cents and was entitled to an
immediate cure. The other women agreed with her,
which caused considerable commotion and terminated
in the breaking up of the entertainment. (Total re
ceipts were sixty cents). Becoming thoroughly dis
gusted I went to bed, and shortly after was joined by
my bedfellow, The Healer, For the remainder of the
night, he kept me in a state of constant fear by talking
to the spirits. I made a firm mental resolve then and
there, that if good fortune permitted me to live until
morning, I would dissolve partnership with my strange
friend. Rising early, without disturbing him, I des
cended to the hotel oflice, and after some very rapid
thinking, I concluded to leave the town before the
negro mammy returned. I was now fifteen years of
age, and more thoroughly imbued with the spirit of
adventure than ever.

Page 13 HARDKNOCKS

CHAPTER IL
NEW IDEALS— HUGH— THE KENTUCKIAN— OFF FOR
FORT GIBSON— MY FIRST RIFLE AND THE FIRST
INDIAN — MY FIRST NIGHT ON THE PLAINS —
ROUGHING IT— FIRST REQUEST FOR FOOD— FIRST
WILD GAME— MY HERO.
FROM this time on, I heard nothing more of my
friend, The Healer. But if I had been disgusted
with him, my first strange character, I was to
be charmed with another whom I next met in
the hotel office. This new acquaintance was a
tall, raw-boned man, fully six feet, two inches in
height, dressed entirely in buckskin and wearing a
broad-brimmed hat and a long knife sticking in his
belt. He was in every particular my ideal of the
pictures I had seen, and of which I had read in the dime
novels. Being prompted by some impulse, I commenced a
conversation with him, during which he told me he
was "Kentuck Hugh" (a noted trapper and hunter),
and that he had killed and scalped many wild Indians
in his time. He remarked that he was leaving at once
for Fort Gibson, twenty-five miles northwest from Fort
Smith, and that he intended to walk the entire distance,
sending his effects ahead by stage, with the exception*
of two blankets and a long rifle, of the old pattern,
which he proposed to carry with him.
In suppressed excitement, I asked him if I might
accompany him, and py joy knew no bounds when he
replied in true backwoodsman style : "Sure ! be glad to
have you." On being appraised that I had no money,
he paid my hotel bill, amounting to a dollar and twenty-
five cents, and put his bundle and my carpet bag aboard
the stage. We crossed the river in a flat-bottomed

HARDKNOCKS Page 14
boat, and started on our way. How my whole being
thrilled, and how my heart beat at the thought that
I was going into a country of real live Indians, Here
tofore I had never had a gun of any kind in my hand,
and I longed to handle his, but dared not ask him that
privilege. We had walked but a short distance, when we saw
a man coming on horseback. "Here comes an Indian."
said Hugh, and my heart beat fast, expecting every
moment to see Hugh kill and scalp him,
"How are you and where are you going?" the In
dian asked, in very good English.
"To Fort Gibson," Hugh replied. "Are we on the
right road?"
"Yes," was the Indian's reply. "This is the stage
road and you can't go wrong."
He then asked Hugh if he had any whiskey with
him, and said that if he would give him a drink, he
would go back with us and give us dinner. My com
panion produced a small flask of Peach Brandy and
gave the Indian a drink, whereupon he turned back
with us, I was watching him very closely all the while,
and thinking that he was a rather tame looking In
dian, as he was dressed in white men's clothes. The
only characteristics about him that to my mind were
anything like those of an Indian, were his dark com
plexion and a few turkey feathers he wore in his hat
After a short time we arrived at his house. Hugh
took a drink from the flask and gave our Indian friend
another drink; the latter then spoke to his squaw in
the Cherokee tongue, ordering her to get our dinner.
She compUed, but not in the most gracious manner
possible, looking daggers at us all the while.
Presently the dinner was ready, and a really good
meal it was. The Indian retained the flask while we
ate, and drank what was left. Before we had finished

Page 15 HARDKNOCKS
eating he came in, whooping and yelUng in true Indian
fashion and said to Hugh: "Don't you know that you
can be arrested for bringing whiskey into the Indian
Territory? Now if you don't give me some more, I'U
have both of you arrested," Such is Indian gratitude.
I was badly frightened and expected every moment
to see Hugh shoot him, but instead, Hugh was very
mild and told the Indian he had no more with him. He
even went so far as to open his shirt front and bundle
of blankets, in order to convince the Indian he was
telUng the truth. I was disgusted with my companion.
I supposed that Hugh, being an old Indian fighter,
woiJd surely kiU this red-skin on the spot. Presently
the Indian, seemingly satisfied that Hugh was not de
ceiving him, mounted his horse and went back down
the road, yelUng Uke mad.
We gathered up our blankets and started on our
way, Hugh acting in a very sullen manner. After a
Uttle he said to me: "If it had not been for that Indian
squaw, I would have killed him, dead sure." This raised
Hugh a notch in my estimation, as I was beginning to
think that he was not the ideal of my dime-novel edu
cation. We trudged on until sundown, when we stopped
for the night under a large oak tree. Hugh Ughted
the fire, — ^just as I had read in the novels, — spread out
the blankets, and we laid down to sleep. This was my
first night on the frontier. Sleep for me was impos
sible. When darkness came, a feeUng of home-sick
ness came over me, and oh ! how I wished myself back
at home in my nice, clean bed. I f eU to thinking of
father, mother, sisters, brothers — ran the gamut of
my friends and acquaintances in the old town and
wondered what each was doing just then. I choked
down many sobs that night, for I did not want Hugh
to think I was not game.

HARD KNOCKS Page 16
At this time I was well dressed and was wearing
low cut shoes, called Oxford ties. The heels were very
high and were almost under the instep, and from that
one day's walking in the hot sun and sand, my shoes
were runover to one side and my feet very sore.
Morning came at last. The birds began to sing and
Nature was awake again for another day. Hugh
awoke, and after stretching himself and yawning a
time or two, said: "Well, my boy! How do you feel ?"
"Pretty good," I repUed, "except that my feet are
very sore."
He then took me to a spring close by and I bathed
my feet, which helped greatly. We rolled up the
blankets and ate some crackers and cold meat, which
Hugh had brought along. It had never occurred to me
how we were going to get any food, but I found out
very soon. We trudged along until three o'clock in
the afternoon, when we came to a house by the road
side. Hugh told me to go over and ask for something
to eat, as neither of us had any money. I did not want
to go and informed him that I had never begged in
my Ufe.
"You'll get used to that, my boy, before you're as
old as I!" was his reply.
I summed up courage, choked down my pride, and
knocked hard on the door, which was opened by a
black squaw. I asked her for something to eat. She
didn't seem to understand I was asking for food, so I
began to make signs. These, too, were without avail;
and so, neither of us being able to speak the other's
tongue, the attempt was a failure and resulted in
having the door shut in my face with a bang. I started
back to Hugh, feeling very downcast at my unsuccess
ful appeal for food. On my way back, however, I
noticed an old-fashioned cheese press with a cheese
under it and a large stone on top for pressing. While

t
I

"t^

Page 17 HARDKNOCKS
watching the house closely to see if I was observed, I
went to the press and stole the cheese, — ^my first theft.
But I know, dear reader, you will forgive me this bit
of wrong-doing ; as one, when hungry, dead broke, and
utterly unable to speak Cherokee, will do almost any
thing to secure something to eat.
Walking on about four miles, we came to a spring
where we concluded to camp for the night. We ate
the cheese and drank the spring water to wash it down,
and, as a result, neither of us slept very much that
night. Although a rather slim supper, the "quaUty"
was there, and, consequently, we dreamed of every
thing imaginable during the little time we slept.
When morning came, we started on, and after a
walk of an hour or so, arrived at a stage station kept
by an old Irishman, with a heart as big as a barrel.
He had just gotten up and greeted us with: "Top av
the marnin to yez ; ye air out early."
"Yes," my companion replied, "and very hungry at
that." We were offered breakfast, which, however, had
a string attached to it in the shape of a woodpile.
"Now, bhoys," said the Irishman, "here is a fine
axe ; chop me a bit of wood, and yez shall have a f oine
meal." Hugh, being a fine axeman, we soon completed our
task, Hugh doing the chopping and I carrying it in.
Presently, breakfast was ready. The Irishman called
us in and said: "Bhoys, ye're aU right. Sit down and
fill up; there's some venison."
I had not the remotest idea of what he meant by
venison, and presently asked Hugh what it was.
"Deer meat, my boy," was his reply.
How delighted I was at the thought of eating my
first wild game. Now I knew that all I had read in the
dime novels was true. Before leaving, the Hibernian,

HARD KNOCKS Page 18
noticing that I limped, gave me some coal oil with
which to bathe my feet, and which helped them
wonderfully. He also gave us food enough to last us
two days, and told us we would find another stage
station twenty-five miles farther on.
We started; I was satisfied with the world and
everything in it. My feeling of home-sickness was en
tirely gone. About two o'clock in the afternoon we
were still traveling when, on looking a short distance
to one side of the road, I saw about a dozen turkeys.
"Hugh!" I exclaimed, "there are some turkeys;
there must be a house near by."
"Hush!" he said, "those are wild turkeys." And
before I could regain my senses, he dropped on one
knee and fired. Down fell the largest bird, and unable
to contain myself, I rushed after it and carried it back
to Hugh in triumph.
"Pretty good shot. Turkey for supper tonight,"
said Hugh, as he reloaded his gun. One can imagine
my admiration for him the remainder of the after
noon. I set him up for my hero, and to this day can
see him walking ahead of me, I carrying the turkey.
Hugh was a great walker, and kept me busy keeping
up with him. I thought him the greatest man in the
world, and that if some day I could be like him, the
height of my ambition would be reached.
On arriving at the stage station, we ate the food
furnished by our friend at the last station. After a
good night's rest in the hayloft, we had turkey — roast
turkey — for breakfast. We helped about the place, re
maining all day that day to rest and finish up that
turkey. We were well treated there, and I for one was
loath to leave the place. Hugh entertained me all the
while with accounts of his adventures with Indians and
wild animals. How I admired that man! Why, I
would have died for him any moment.

Page 19 HARDKNOCKS
To me, our next day's journey was not so hard, as
we were in the timber all day. We were protected
from the rays of the sun and the sand was not as hot
as it was at first. The woods were filled with wild
doves, and to me their cooing was so sad that it made
me homesick to hear them.
"Why don't you shoot some of them, Hugh?" I
asked. He looked at me in disgust. "Wait until we find
some larger game, my boy," he replied. "We are al
most out of the settlements and ought to get a shot at
a deer soon." The thought of it thrilled me and I kept
a good lookout, but saw no deer. We arrived at the
third station about dark, but there the keeper was
not so friendly as the others we had passed. After
some talk, however, he thawed out and we found him
to be a pretty good fellow. We trudged on again next
day, stopping at another station that night. The fol
lowing night we arrived at Fort Gibson.

HARD KNOCKS Page 20

CHAPTER HI.
OUR WELL-TAGGED BAGGAGE— DESERTED— "TENDER-
FOOT"— A STRANGE OFFER OF MARRIAGE— THE
INDIAN ENGINEERING PARTY— AN OLD FRIEND— A
HORRIBLE PRACTICAL JOKE.
ON our arrival, we went to the hotel. Before
entering, Hugh reminded me that he had
no money, and advised me to say nothing
about it while we were in the hotel. He
boldly registered our names, and, as the
stage office was in the hotel, he asked if our baggage
had been left there by the stage.
"Yes," the clerk repUed, producing it; mine, with
a tag attached calUng for four dollars, and Hugh's
for three dollars.
The next morning Hugh informed me that he was
going out on the grade to look for a job as bridge car
penter. The Missouri, Kansas & Texas Railroad was
then grading its road about four miles west of Fort
Gibson. Heretofore, I had supposed that the occupa
tion of Indian fighters consisted entirely of hunting,
trapping and slaying Indians, and was correspondingly
disappointed in my hero on being told by him that he
was going to work. We left the hotel early in the
morning without settling our bills, and had walked
about two miles, when we arrived at a spring, to the
north of which was a wooded canyon. At this point
Hugh left me, saying he was going into the brush to
cut a couple of walking sticks, and requested that I
wait where I was until he returned. After waiting
about an hour, I began to think that some wild
animal had eaten him. I was considerably frightened,
and halooed to him. Receiving no response, I went
up to the top of a near-by ridge, and from there saw
the railroad graders at work. I ran to them in great

Page 21 HARDKNOCKS
trepidation and told them that my partner was miss
ing, and that I thought he had been eaten by wild
animals. They burst into a hearty laugh.
"Here is another tenderfoot," was their only reply.
The expression "tenderfoot," I had never heard be
fore, and I naturally thought the graders referred to
my feet, which were very sore and tender and I felt
that had they walked as far as I, their feet would
have been in a like condition. Sometime afterward
I learned the term appUed not to one's feet, but was
a common expression for a "greenhorn" in the
country. I asked the graders for work, but was refused.
Then I returned to the hotel hoping to find or hear
something of Hugh, but was told they had not seen
him, so I came to the conclusion that he had deserted
me. I was homesick and heartbroken, and my am
bition vanished — "great Indian fighters existed not in
reaUty, but on paper only."
I concluded that as I was alone I would go back
to Fort Smith, and asked the hotel man for my carpet
bag. He refused, however, to let me have it until I
paid him six dollars — ^two for the hotel and four for
the stage company; and no amount of pleading on
my part could soften his heart or change his decision.
Crestfallen, I departed from the hotel minus my
carpet bag; arriving at the first stage station that
night, footsore, weary, and discouraged. The station-
man took me in, giving me a good meal, and I enjoyed
a good night's rest. The next morning he offered to
engage me to dig potatoes for him, for which he
agreed to pay me fifty cents a day and my board and
lodging. Here was the turning point in my career. I had
arrived at this station the previous evening with the
firm resolve to return to home and friends; the ardor

HARDKNOCKS Page 22
of western adventures had undergone a severe shock,
and was at a decidedly low ebb. The ideals in which,
in my boyish fancy, I had placed so much confidence,
had completely vamshed, and unpleasant memories
alone remained with me for comfort and consolation.
However, I felt induced to accept the offer of the
station-man and for two weeks worked for him,
digging potatoes.
During this time I had gradually gained courage
and my adventurous spirit was again in the ascend
ancy. My efforts and diUgence evidently met with
favor in the eyes of my employer, for one day he
called me into his room and asked me how I Uked the
country. "Fairly weU," I repUed.
"WeU," he rejoined, "do you want to become a
rich man? If so, I will teU you how,"
I looked at him without speaking, and he went on:
"As you know, my wife is a Cherokee, and she has a
sister just your age who has seen you and Ukes you.
Her mother, who Uves on the hiU yonder, owns many
head of cattle and horses, and a great deal of com
land, all under cultivation. She is old now, and when
she dies the girl and my wife wiU get it aU. There
is a white man working for her mother who has
been trying to marry the girl, but she prefers you
and wants to meet you and will be here in the
morning. I will do the talking for both, and can fix
it up in a few minutes; then you can go to Fort
Gibson and be married."
This man, Pat, was a big-hearted Irishman and
meant well, but as for my getting married — well,»I
was not exactly in the mood for discussing matters
of that nature just then.
True to the Irishman's word, the girl came the
next day. She was astride a horse, bare back, and

Page 23 HARDKNOCKS
with only a rope loop in the horse's mouth for a
bridle. She was a well-formed girl, but I could not
fancy her for a wife, particularly for my wife. The
Irishman talked to her in her native tongue (Chero
kee) and then to me in English, but as I did not care
to offend either of them, I told him I would think it
over that night. He urged me to decide quickly be
fore the other white man could secure the prize.
Later in the day a surveying party came into the
station. It consisted of the chief and twenty-one men
and two four-mule teams, and was engaged in running
a railroad survey from Fort Smith, Arkansas, to
connect with the main line of the Atlantic & Pacific
Railway at Antelope Hills, three hundred miles south.
After the party had camped in front of the station,
the chief came in to obtain provisions, and they had
a guide to take them through the Cherokee country,
as it was difficult to find camping places. While in
conversation with my Irish friend, the chief gave
his name as Mr. Innes. My heart leaped into my
mouth, for I remembered a Mr. Innes who was City
Engineer in my home town. After he had made
some purchases, I followed him out and asked him if
he ever Uved in Cape Vincent, New York.
"Bom and raised there," was his reply.
"Then you must know my father. Captain Young ?"
"WeU, I should say I do," he ejaculated. "But
what under the sun ever brought you into this
country?" "Don't know," I replied, ashamed to acknowledge
that the little yeUow covered novels were the cause
of it. He took me over to his camp and talked to me
for an hour, finaUy saying: "I can't let the son of an
old schoolmate run wild out here. I don't really
need any more help, but will put you on the pay roU
at forty doUars per month, and your duties will be
to carry the lunch bucket and give the transit man

HARD KNOCKS Page 24
a back sight when he moves on ahead, and assist in
making and numbering stakes when necessary."
Of course, this was aU Greek to me, but I was to
get away from that young squaw and had found my
father's friend, and so was extremely happy. I re
lated to my new friend the troubles I had been having
about my carpet bag, and showed him my shoes; or
rather, what was left of them, for they were ahnost
gone. The next day he sent a man on horseback to
Fort Gibson with six dollars to pay the charges on
my carpet bag; and to my great joy, he returned
with it.
We camped here for three days, and in the mean
time Mr. Innes went over to a store on the north
side of the river and purchased a pair of boots for
me. They were about two sizes too large, but it was
the best he could do. The old Irishman paid me what
he owed me before we left. He was very much dis
appointed at the thought of losing a prospective
brother-in-law, and I suppose that my would-be bride
was almost heartbroken. I have seen neither of
them since.
Many times since then I pondered over my ex
treme good fortune in unwittingly eluding the trap
set for me by that wily Irish station-man. Shortly
after our departure he erected a large building and
entered into a co-operative plan with the Cherokees of
that vicinity, which proved disastrous to them. The
agreement entered into was to the effect that the
Cherokees were each to contribute a certain number
of Cherokee cattle, which the Irishman was to take
to Kansas City, exchange same for staple products
to be sold at the Co-Operative Store, and all share
in the profits. They fiUed thirty cars with these cattle,
and Pat took them to Kansas City, realized a fabulous
sum and departed for parts unknown. Ever after
his departure Pat was but a passing memory to his

Page 25 HARDKNOCKS
faithful Cherokee wife and all who knew him. This
base deception made a lasting impression on the
Cherokees, who up to this time had intermarried
with the whites. For a long time afterward, they
looked on every white man with supreme disgust and
contempt. We left there under the guidance of an Indian,
furnished us by the old Irishman. This guide made
himself generally useful, in more ways than one. He
was thoroughly familiar with the various waterholes,
and without him we would certainly have fared badly.
Being a tenderfoot, I was the butt of all the jokes
played in the camp by those twenty-one men, and
Mr. Innes was as bad as any of them. On my
second day with the outfit they played a horrible
practical joke on me. That is, it was horrible as far
as I was concerned.
The four-mule teams were in charge of a character
who was known by the name of "California Jack."
This man was noted as a practical joker and was
particularly fond of telling stories of early Ufe in
CaUfornia in which he had centered as the principal
figure. At night we slept side by side in a large tent, using
our blankets for bedding, and with our feet toward
the entrance. Before we went to sleep that night,
"CaUfornia Jack" told a most dreadful snake story.
He said that once, while in California, he and two
others were asleep in a tent, just as we were, when
a rattle-snake crawled under one of the boy's blankets
and coiled himself up on the boy's breast, and he knew
that if he moved, the snake would bite him, which
meant certain death, and that the only way to save
his Ufe was to keep perfectly stiU until the snake
had its sleep out. According to the teamster's story,
the snake crawled away after a while, but the boy's
scare was so great that he died of fright within ten
minutes after the snake left his breast, and was

HARD KNOCKS Page 26
buried the next day. "And it is a strange fact,"
added Jack, "that snakes seem to know boys. Many
times in California I have known them to attack boys
and yet never bother men."
"Oh, let us go to sleep," interrupted the other
men. "We have to get up early."
In a few minutes aU of them were apparently
sound asleep, when I felt something slimy touch my
bare leg. Up it crawled to my breast. I thought of
Jack's warning and kept stiU, but oh, how frightened
I was. I thought I would die. Presently, I could
stand it no longer, and jumped clear over the two men
who were sleeping on my left. Everyone sprang up
and wanted to know what the matter was. "Snakes!"
was all I could say.
"Oh, you are dreaming," they repUed.
"No," I persisted, "I saw him, and he was ten
feet long,"
"Yes," added Jack, "they grow that long in this
country." We then shook aU the blankets, but find
ing nothing, concluded that the snake had escaped
through one of the openings.
We all laid down again, but there was no more
sleep for me. I was on the lookout for snakes. In a
few minutes everyone was snoring once more, when
again I felt that slimy snake crawling up my bare
leg. I stood it as long as I could, then grabbed for
it and, as I supposed, caught it by the head.
"Wake up, boys !" I yelled. "I have him!" Every
one jumped up--Jack telUng me to hold the snake
fast while he lighted a candle. I looked at the
supposed snake and discovered that it was only a
cattail ; a kind of weed or rush that grows in swamps.
Jack had dampened the head or top of it, and it was
he who was doing the trick. All laughed, and that
ended the fun.

Page 27 HARDKNOCKS
It is a fact, however, that it was a bad country
for snakes. There was also a large cricket in that
part of the country, which made a noise exactly Uke
a rattlesnake and which startled me very often, to
the great amusement of the boys. The transition
from "tenderfoot" to the state of stoUdity, which
gradually relieved me from the position of being the
butt of others' jokes, though gradual, was in due
time accompUshed.

HARDKNOCKS Page 28

CHAPTER IV.
IN THE CREEK INDIAN COUNTRY— THE SEMINOLES—
THE SAC AND FOX INDIANS— ONCE MORE A VICTIM
—CARRIED OFF BY A NAKED INDIAN— THE SHAW-
NESS— ATLANTIC & PACIFIC RAILWAY SURVEY—
"BILL HENDERSON," THE HALF-BREED — FIRST
CATTLE HERDING— LOST ON THE RANGE.
WE worked in this vicinity for a while, and
later went into the Creek Indian country.
The Creeks, Uke the Cherokees, were
civilized, and had good houses and
schools. We next struck the Seminoles.
These Indians were crossed to a great extent with
the Negroes, as before the war a great many Creeks
and Seminoles owned slaves. They intermarried with
the squaws, producing very dark offspring. We
encountered the Sac and Fox Indians on our next
move. This tribe was at that time blanket Indians
and of fine physique, many of them being six feet in
height. A few of them exceeding even this mark.
They Uved in lodges made of the skins of elks and
other animals, and had their faces painted in various
colors. Many of them are now immensely wealthy,
through the recent discovery of oil on their land.
This was my first sight of real blanket Indians, and
I found, much to my surprise, that they were not
warlike at aU, but were frightful beggars. It was
here again that I began to think that dime novels
had not told me the truth. We changed guides at
each Indian tribe, as each guide went with us through
his own country only,
I dared not tell any of the boys that I had run
away from home for the purpose of fighting Indians,
for fear that they would laugh at me, I, however,
grew wiser from day to day, and, as I attained

Page 29 HARDKNOCKS
further wisdom, it became more and more difficult
for them to play tricks upon me. Although I had
been progressing in this line, the boys assisted by
the Indian guide, did play another trick upon me,
while in the Sac and Fox country.
Just before we left the line in the evening to go
into camp, Mr. Innes asked me to go back about a
mile and look at a certain stake. To do this, I had
to go across a low place, out of sight of the other
boys. To my surprise, I was stopped by an Indian,
who was painted and almost naked. He rushed at
me, caught me by the arm, and with his foot Ufted
me up before him on his pony, and yelUng as only
an Indian can yeU, rapidly rode off with me. I wanted
to yeU myself, but was too frightened to do so. How
ever, this was scarcely necessary, for the Indian made
enough of that kind of noise to answer for both. I
fought hard to escape from him, but aU to no purpose.
The reader can imagine my feeUngs, as I had every
reason to beUeve that I had been made a captive by
the savage. Dime novels had told the truth, after all.
We rode for some time, and presently came in
sight of the camp. There were the boys, waving
their hats and laughing. It was the guide, disguised,
who had played the trick on me; to say I was re
Ueved, would be putting it mildly.
We next entered the domain of the Shawness, but
they would not permit us to pass through their
country. Mr. Innes met them at a council held under
a large clump of oak trees, at which all the Indians
wore their blankets, and were painted in their war
colors. To me it was a great sight. Mr. Innes,
through an interpreter furnished by their agent, in
formed them that he and his party were only looking
through the country by request of the Great Father
in Washington.

HARD KNOCKS Page 30
"No," they repUed. "You can go no farther; you
are bad men and must go back." Mr. Innes then
attempted to bluff them, by telUng them he would
send for the soldiers, but all to no avail. And after
a three days' council, we started back to the nearest
town — Prairie City, the then terminus of the Atlantic
& Pacific Railroad. We had been out for four months,
and on our return, were paid off, and the party dis
banded. I heard later that Mr. Innes continued the
work the following year, under escort of cavalry.
In company with Frank Emmons, one of the
party, we walked to Fort Gibson, where I again in
quired for my friend Hugh, but found no one who
knew anything of him.
The following day we left Fort Gibson and walked
to Chetopa, Kansas — the then terminus of the Mis
souri, Kansas & Texas Railway. Here that road
entered the Cherokee Territory. After spending our
money, we went south six miles in search of work.
Later, we were employed to pitch hay for "BiU"
Henderson, a half breed Cherokee, and a veritable
devil when he was under the influence of Uquor. A
company of St. Louis people had leased his wild hay
land, paying him so much per acre for the privilege
of cutting the hay, which, after cutting, was stacked,
baled and shipped to St. Louis. I became quite expert
in the work, but later on had some trouble with the
boss and quit. I was indeed fortunate, being the
only one who received pay for labor done, as the
company became insolvent and none of the others
received a cent of wages. There was no recourse,
as the hay was in the Indian Territory and could not
be held for amounts due. On severing my connection
with Henderson, I returned to Chetopa. There I met
a Mr. Pancake, who owned some eight hundred head
of cattle, which he had driven from Texas, and who
hired me as a herder. Of course, in this work it was

Page 31 HARDKNOCKS
necessary for me to ride a horse, which was a new
experience. The horse and saddle supplied me, I
looked on with some misgivings, as I dared not tell
Mr. Pancake that I had never ridden a horse, and
waited until he was out of sight before attempting
to mount. Although it was but twenty miles to the
herd, I believe I rode twice that distance before
reaching there. I made the resolve that if I wanted to
hold that job, I must learn to ride, and I did, but
how sore I was the next morning !
I shall never forget the flrst night I was sent out
on guard. In those days we stood two hours' watch
in the night, riding around the cattle while they were
"bedded" down, and singing to them most of the time.
My saddle horse was not a cow pony, but an Indian
pony which Mr. Pancake had purchased in the Indian
Territory. After I had ridden around the cattle for
a while, I began to doze. Presently I looked to my
right, but could not see the cattle. The night was
dark, and my pony had strayed away. Had he been
a cow pony, he would have stayed with the herd, as
they are used to cattle, I tried to flnd them, but
being unsuccessful, began to shout, hoping that the
boys in camp would hear me. I rode for some time,
and finally concluded that I was lost. I stopped my
tired pony and hobbled him with the bridle rein, as
I had no lariat. Using the saddle for a piUow, and
covering myself with the saddle blanket, I attempted
to sleep, but without success. What troubled me most
was, the thought that I had the boss' gold watch,
which he loaned to each herder that he might know
the time to call the reUef. I was sure they would
miss me and think that I had run away with the pony
and watch. I found out later that my surmise was
correct. When daylight came, I saw a campfire in the
distance. Riding over, I found a negro cook pre-

HARD KNOCKS Page 32
paring the morning meal and told him that I was
looking for Pancake's herd, but did not tell him I
was lost. "Well," he replied, "you are a long way
from it. They are camped on Pond Creek, eight
miles southeast of here." After taking breakfast
with him, I started for the herd, and arrived there
in due time. Four of the boys were out looking for
me, supposing that I had run away with the watch
and pony. When I explained the situation to the
boss, he blamed the Indian pony for all the trouble.
This relieved me very much.
These cattle had just arrived from Texas over the
Chisholm trail and were being kept here to rest and
fatten, after which they were to be sold and shipped
east by rail. A period of three months was usually
required to make the drive from Texas.
I had been with Mr. Pancake about a month,
when a man named Hamilton, from Arkansas City,
Kansas, bought two hundred head of stock cattle out
of the herd, and employed a Mr. Sutherland to help
care for them. Mr. Sutherland and his wife camped
near. They were from Texas and were looking for
Government land, and had a wagon and four head of
horses. Mr. Sutherland engaged me to go with him. Ham
ilton, who later proved to be a perfect devil, bought
a pair of gentle oxen and hitched them to the wagon.
We rode the horses and drove the cattle. We had
not been out many days, when the two men quarreled
and had it not been for Mrs. Sutherland, Hamilton
would surely have been killed, as Sutherland, having
a violent temper, had already killed two men in Texas
some time previously. For that reason he had been
compeUed to leave there. Three nights after the
trouble between Hamilton and Sutherland, two horse
thieves traveling through the country, plying their
vocation, stole our horses and we had no alternative

c /y^/, ic

Page 33 HARDKNOCKS
but to follow them on foot. Sutherland having spent
his entire Ufe on the frontier of Texas, was a wonder
ful trailer, and by signs and foot prints, with which
he was thoroughly accustomed, accomplished what
to me seemed an utter impossibility. Taking with
us sufficient food to provide against hunger, we walked
for three days, at the end of which time we dis
covered our horses in an open cornfield. Sutherland
ordered me to keep quiet, suggesting I lie down in
the grass and rest. I asked him, "Why not go and get
the horses?" He repUed: "Do as I teU you. I wiU
attend to the horses." This I did, and was soon
curled up in the grass fast asleep. Suddenly I was
awakened by two rapid gun shots, and I jumped up
and ran over to Sutherland, who said to me : "Remain
here, and I will go over and get the horses; those
horse thieves will never bother any one again."
Sutherland left me and shortly returned with the
horses, two six-shooters, a Henry rifle (the first I
had ever seen), and considerable ammunition. He
presented me with one of the six-shooters. I was
naturally proud of this six-shooter, as I had never
had one of my own, and used it until the cartridge
pistol came into use. We then returned to the camp,
where we were welcomed by Hamilton and Mrs.
Sutherland, who were nearly worn out by herding the
cattle on foot in our absence. Seeing the extra gun
and six-shooters, Hamilton asked Sutherland where
he got them. Sutherland repUed in a very cool and
unconcerned manner: "Oh, I borrowed them from a
couple of friends of mine."
From that time, I never knew Sutherland to
mention the matter again, but am satisfied that he
killed both horse thieves.
You must bear in mind, dear reader, that these
events transpired in 1866, at which time wrongs and
grievances, fancied and real, were avenged not by

HARD KNOCKS Page 34
a court of justice, but by the principals, in their
rough, stem way. This was the only known and
recognized law in that country at that time and for
years to come.
After many hardships, we arrived at Hamilton's
ranch, near Arkansas City. Here we received our
wages, and after another quarrel with Hamilton, we
went south, to what was then known as the Cherokee
Strip.

Page 35 HARDKNOCKS

CHAPTER V.
THE CHEROKEE STRIP— A SQUATTER— OUSTED BY
UNCLE SAM— UNWELCOME VISITORS— THE BANK
ROBBERS— MY HAIR TRIGGER RIFLE— WITH THE
OSAGE INDIANS— BUCKETS OF REAL SNAKES— BIG
FIGHT BETWEEN LONG AND SHORT HORNS, AT
NEWTON, KANSAS.
I WILL here present to you items of interest per
taining to the Cherokee Strip, including many
stirring incidents which have from time to time
been a matter of public record. The Strip was
a piece of land owned by the Cherokee Indians,
about one hundred miles square. It adjoined Howard
County, Kansas, five miles south of the town of Elgin.
I afterward heard that Howard County had been sub
divided by the Government, and a portion of it called
Elk County,
A report gained currency that the United States
Government intended buying this strip and allowing
160 acres to each person having homestead or squatter
rights. Sutherland and I concluded to make a loca
tion, and accordingly, settled ourselves on adjoining
pieces of land, but lived together. In the meantime,
the Osage Indians sold their lands in Kansas and
bought this strip from the Cherokees, before the
Government had concluded the deal. When they came
to take possession of it, they discovered that it had
been taken up by the white people. The houses which
we had built were of logs cut off the ridges, where
post oak grew plentifully. The houses were without
floors. The cooking was done in old-fashioned fire
places. The houses were few and far between; this
being particularly true of the section where we lived.
One clear, moonUght night we were suddenly awak
ened by a loud rapping. I opened the door, while Mr.

HARD KNOCKS Page 36
Sutherland stood just to one side with his Spencer
carbine ready for instant use. There I found three
mounted men, all armed to the teeth, and the hardest
looking trio I ever saw. After asking who lived there,
they wanted to know if I were alone.
"No," I answered, "Mr. Sutherland and wife are
here." Whereupon Sutherland stepped out from his
hiding place.
We were instructed by the unwelcome visitors that
they wanted something to eat at once. I was ordered
to take their horses to the corral and feed them, which
I did. Although it was nearly midnight, they com
pelled Mrs. Sutherland to get up and prepare thera
something to eat. One of their number, with gun in
hand, remained on guard on the outside and after the
other two had eaten, he came in and partook of the
food. When all had eaten, they went to the corral
where they spent the remainder of the night sleeping,
each taking turns at guard duty. At dayUght they
came back to the house and the spokesman asked us
if we had any money. We told him "No," as we had
not yet raised a crop.
"Well," he said, handing me three twenty-dollar
greenbacks, "we will stake j'^ou. Give the man and
the woman one each and keep the other for yourself."
They then asked: "Does anyone live in that
house yonder?" pointing to a house about two miles
distant. "Yes," I replied; "Mr. Kruger lives there."
"Has he any horses?"
"Yes, four head."
Whereupon they saddled up and left, we noticing
that their horses had a tired and jaded appearance.
In about two hours, Kruger came to our house with
his head bandaged up, and said that one of the men

Page 37 HARDKNOCKS
had struck him with a six-shooter. Kruger was a
contrary German, and, having served in the army,
thought that he was king of the earth. He probably
became saucy when they wanted to trade horses with
him. They accordingly clubbed him, took three of
his best animals, and left their own in place of them.
Had he used better judgment under the conditions, he
might have made a good trade with them. He wanted
us to go with him and try to recover his horses, and
became very angry when we refused to do so.
Three days later a sheriff with three deputies,
in pursuit of these men, arrived at our cabin and
made inquiries concerning them. We informed them
that three men had stopped over night with us and
had gone on, heading west. They then proceeded
on their way but returned the following day, having
evidently given up the chase, and informed us that
the men they were hunting were outlaws who robbed
a bank in Parsons, Kansas, killing two men who had
attempted to arrest them. The sheriff and his deputies
remained with us over night, departing early in the
morning. We were careful not to tell them that the
outlaws had given us any money. The next day
Sutherland and I went to town and bought many
necessaries in the way of clothing, groceries, etc. The
storekeeper expressed considerable surprise when Aye
handed him our greenbacks, as this form of money in
that country was very scarce in those days.
One bright morning not long after these events,
Sutherland and I went together on a deer hunt; he
took his Spencer carbine, and I borrowed a heavy
muzzle-loading rifle, equipped with a set trigger. I
was now to have my first experience at deer hunting.
Sutherland proceeded with caution along the top
of a ridge or hiU, and I along the foot. I had not
gone far when I saw three deer pawing in the snow,
looking for acorns. They had not seen me, and I

HARD KNOCKS Page 38
quickly decided that here was the chance to secure
my first deer. Unfortunately, while in the act of
taking aim, I unconsciously touched the set-trigger,
resulting in the load going off in the ground about
ten feet from me. Hearing the shot, Mr. Sutherland
ran down and asked me if I had hit a deer. Not
wanting him to know that my rifle had been dis
charged accidentally, I replied: "Yes, I hit him."
Whereupon he began to search, but no deer could be
found. Mr. Sutherland scolded me severely for my
poor marksmanship, and we returned home with
out any game.
In the meantime, the Osages promptly appealed
to the government, and the latter notified us to
vacate. We refused, as we had improved the land
to a large extent by building rail fences, log houses,
etc. The government then sent troops and six-mule
teams there and moved us across the line into Kansas,
giving the Osages peaceful possession. This was, of
course, just, although we did not consider it so at
the time.
In the spring of 1867 the Osage Indians estabUshed
their new agency forty miles south of the Kansas line.
The location selected was at the base of a rocky hill,
which was infested with thousands of snakes. While
digging a well, it was our custom every morning
to lower a man in a bucket to the bottom. This was
for the purpose of kilUng snakes that had fallen into
the opening during the night.
There were twenty white men employed on this
agency, and the agent had selected an Indian by the
name of "Red Feather," who was to keep us supplied
with deer meat. One day, the agency's interpreter,
who was a white man, asked Red Feather how it
happened that he always had a full supply of venison.
Red Feather replied : "Some time I catch um deer and
some time dog ; white man don't know." For a time

Page 39 HARDKNOCKS
the interpeter kept this information to himself, but
finally, it being too rich to keep, told us. Our feelings
can be better imagined than described. Suffice to
say that Red Feather had his contract cancelled on
very short notice, and our fondness for deer meat
vanished. For a long time afterward, we could not
bear the mention of it.
Finally, becoming tired of agency Ufe, and my
roving disposition as I thought requiring a change,
I started for the new town of Wichita, Kansas, which
at that time was a shipping point for Texas cattle.
I remained there but a short time. From Wichita
I went to Newton, Kansas — then the terminus of the
Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe Railroad, and one of the
wildest towns in the state. Newton was a rendezvous
for gamblers and "sure-thing" men. There were
numerous saloons and two large dance halls, a few
merchandise stores and a hotel. At this particular
time, the female element consisted entirely of dance-
hall girls. The majority of the male population were,
what were then termed, gun-fighters; the six-shooter
being the only recognized law there at that time.
Here I witnessed one of the most noted gun fights
that ever took place in the West. The fight was
between Kansas and Texas desperadoes. It occurred
in Tim Shea's dance-hall, and was a pre-arranged
aft'air. The Texicans had visited the town some five
days prior to this and ran things to suit themselves.
They then sent word that they were coming back on
a certain night and proposed to dupUcate the act.
Tim Shea gathered together about thirty Kansas
gun-men whom he knew and could depend upon. True
to their threat, the Texicans arrived on the appointed
night. Shea, hearing them coming, stationed his men
at the rear of the dance-hall ; the Texicans riding up
to the front, entered the door, yelling and shooting
off their guns. Shea's men rushed in the back door.

HARD KNOCKS Page 40
and the shooting began. The lights were shot out,
all was darkness, and the entire thing was over in
fifteen minutes. When the lamps were relighted,
fourteen were found lying dead on the floor, but the
number of wounded will never be known. One of
the dance-hall girls was wounded in the right eye,
and ever afterward was known as "One-eyed Molly."
Few, if any, who took part in that fight are alive
today. I will give you the names of a few of the
prominent ones: Matt Reilly, Billy Brooks, Tim Shea,
Lushey Bill, Chris Gilson, Tom Sherman, Pony Spen
cer. There were others whose names I cannot recall.
From Newton, I followed the extension of the
Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe Railroad to the next
terminus, which was Lamerd, Kansas.

Page 41 HARDKNOCKS

CHAPTER VI.
THE SANTE FE'S EXTENSION WEST— THE KANSAS PA
CIFIC MAN-KILLING CELEBRETIES— "WILD BILL" OF
HAYES CITY— GREEN RIVER SMITH— PHIL COLE'S
FRUITLESS TACTICS— KANSAS BUFFALO— THE BUF
FALO EXTERMINATED IN TWO YEARS.
THERE was probably no railroad extension
westward ever marked by more lawlessness
than was that of the Atchison, Topeka &
Santa Fe. The next terminus was Dodge
City, two miles west of Fort Dodge, and of
which I wiU speak later.
Leaving Lamerd, I concluded to go northward to
Hayes City, which at that time was the terminus of
the Kansas Pacific Railroad, now a part of the Union
Pacific system. It was there that I first met J. B.
Hickok, better known as "Wild BiU." BiU was mar
shal of Hays City.
A good many stories have been written from time
to time of this character. Wild BiU, but I am sure
none will prove of more interest to the reader than
that which I am about to relate. From the time of
our first meeting in Hayes City, my remarks are
based on personal knowledge and contact with him,
dating from the year 1868 when we first met, to the
time of his death, which occurred in 1876.
Our first meeting is indelibly impressed upon my
mind. I had been dancing all night in one of the
numerous dance-halls of Hayes City, as was the
ahnost universal custom in those days of strangers
looking for pleasure and entertainment. Morning
found me waiting outside for one of the dance-hall
giris, for whom I had formed a boyish fancy. The
night's entertainment had proved costly to me, my

HARD KNOCKS Page 42
finances having dwindled from forty dollars to a
dollar and a half. This extravagance on my part
had been noted by Wild Bill, unknown to me. As I
stood on the sidewalk, deliberating, someone touched
me on the shoulder. I turned, and found myself
face to face with the finest looking man I have ever
seen or ever expect to see; a man who excited my
greatest admiration. He was about six feet, two
inches in height; perfectly formed and of strong
physique, and at that time thirty-one years old. He
had long auburn hair, and clear blue eyes; eyes that
showed kindness and friendship to all, except the evil
doer, to whom they meant the reverse. I was naturally
drawn toward him, and instinctively felt that no
matter how tough the town or its lawless characters,
I had met a friend. He asked me where I hailed from
and I replied : "From the Santa Fe Construction." He
gave me some very wholesome advice regarding spend
ing my money so foolishly and asked me what I was
doing at Hayes City. I told him I was looking for
work. After a long pause, during which he appeared
to be sizing me up, he asked me if I could drive a
six-mule team. I could not, and frankly told him so.
He evidently thought I could learn quickly, for he
took me into a near-by saloon and taught me how to
tie a Government hame-string. The Government at
that time used a leather strap with a knot on the end
of it instead of the buckle and tongue of the present
day. The next morning he went with me to Fort Hayes,
two and a half miles distant. There we met the
corral boss, and Wild Bill asked him to put me to
work, stating that he had taken a fatherly interest in
me and wanted to see me get along in good shape. The
corral boss asked if I could drive a six-mule team. To
which BiU repUed: "Yes." A mule collar was thrown
on the ground and I was told to tie the hames on,
which I did. He then turned to Bill with a broad

Page 43 HARDKNOCKS
grin and remarked, "You have driUed him well." He
then told me to remain at the post and he would put me
to work. During the day I got acquainted with some
of the mule drivers, who showed me how to harness
a six-mule team. The term used for mule drivers in
those days was "mule-skinners." The second morning
BiU came out to see how I was getting along, and to
his astonishment found me driving a six-mule team.
He rode by my side for some distance, giving me
pointers that afterward were very useful to me. I
worked at this post for six months, during which I
saw a great deal of Wild BiU, as I was in town nearly
every night.
I will now give you this wonderful character's
Ufe as told to me by Bill himself, at my request three
months previous to his death in Deadwood.
Wild Bill was born in Homer, lUinois, in 1837.
His proper name was James Benson Hickok. He
enUsted in the Union Army in 1862, and became a
spy, operating principaUy in Missouri at the time
when General Price of the Confederate Army was
terrorizing the country with his lawless and merciless
deeds. Bill's duties as a spy necessitated his con
necting himself with General Price's command. As a
result, he rendered invaluable services to the Union.
He was discharged in 1865. He then went to Spring
field, Missouri, at which place he killed his first man
in civil life, — a character by the name of Dave Tutt,
who had served in the Confederate Army and who
had a great reputation as a gun-fighter. The cir
cumstances of this kilUng, which occurred on July
28th, 1865, (and were verified by me on the county
records of Springfield), were as follows:
On the night previous to July 28th, 1865, Tutt and
Bill were engaged in a game of cards, in which Bill
lost all of his ready cash. This resulted in his borrow
ing twenty doHars from Tutt and handing him his

HARD KNOCKS Page 44
watch as security, the loan to be repaid the following
morning. Bill was on hand at the appointed time,
but when he made a tender of the twenty dollars, Dave
refused to return the watch, claiming that the
amount borrowed was forty doUars instead of twenty.
BiU's indignation was further increased by Dave's
tantalizing remark that at twelve o'clock he would
walk across the public square with BiU's watch in his
pocket. Bill's reply to this insult was: "Sometimes
dead men wear watches!" Thus the matter ended
for the time being. Promptly at the stroke of twelve
o'clock Dave stepped out of the court house. Bill
approaching from an opposite direction. As they
spied each other, their hands went instinctively to
their guns, both quickly realizing that a Ufe must
pay the forfeit. Bill's aim was steady and true, a
bullet through Dave's heart being the result, while
Dave's bullet went harmlessly over Bill's head. Thus
had BiU's prophecy come true.
Shortly after this occurrence, BiU left Springfield
and went to St. Louis, Missouri, where he was em
ployed by Ben HoUaday, who at that time was oper
ating the Overland Stage Line from St. Louis to
San Francisco. HoUaday had suffered no end of trouble
from gangs of desperadoes who were continually
holding up his stage coaches, robbing the passengers
and making off with the Wells Fargo strong box,
which was carried under contract.
Foremost among these desperadoes and the most
feared was the noted McCanless gang. Bill was given
instructions to exterminate this gang, which consisted
of nine men. He was asked how many men he would
require to assist him and repUed : "None !" This was
certainly a good evidence of the man's grit and pluck.
Leaving St. Louis single handed, he made his initial
move by going to Rock Springs station on the Cim-
aron river, arriving at about four o'clock in the

Page 45 HARDKNOCKS
afternoon and assuming charge immediately. He had
been in his new quarters but one hour when McCan
less, the leader of the gang, rode up and asked him
what he was doing there. Bill replied that he was the
"new station agent." McCanless' response was, that
if he (Bill) was not away from there within twenty-
four hours, he would be shipped to St. Louis in a
box. BiU's reply was that when they returned, they
would stiU find him on the job, for he had come to
stay. True to McCanless' word, the gang did return
on the following afternoon and gave bill the hardest
battle of his Ufe. Approaching the station, in which
BiU was quartered, they opened fire on him, — nine
men against one. They certainly were hardly pre
pared for what was to follow.
In less time than it takes to write this. Bill had
shot four of them; but at this critical moment, his
gun was knocked from his hand. Seizing a knife from
the belt of McCanless, BiU used it to advantage.
Again good fortune seemed to favor him, for regain
ing his gun, he speedily exterminated the reniainder
of the gang, except one, who had gotten some distance
away. One more shot from BiU's six-shooter, and the
extermination of the gang was complete.
Bill had not escaped unharmed. When he was
found by a stocktender shortly after the battle, he
was lying on his side unconscious and not a charge left
in his gun. He had received three bullet and two
knife wounds, which wounds came very nearly ending
his useful career. He was taken immediately to St.
Louis, where his Ufe hung by a thread for a long
time, but his remarkable vitality finally predominated.
It was, however, fuUy a year before he was restored
to his fuU mind and vigor.
In the f aU of 1867, BiU's restless, roving disposition
again began to assert itself. He left St. Louis; this
time going to Camp Supply and Fort Sill in the

HARD KNOCKS Page 46
Indian Territory, not far south of Fort Dodge, Kansas.
At Camp Supply, he was engaged by the Government
as a scout. This vocation he followed for about a
year, which was brought to a close by his meeting
General Custer, of Indian fame. Custer was en route
to Fort Hayes and prevailed on BiU to go with him.
While scouting out of Fort Hayes, the to\\Ti of Hayes
City sprung up. This town, like all other terminus
towns of early days, had its full quota of the law
less element and the question of keeping them in sub
jection was a hard problem to solve. This particular
town got so bad that General Custer was appealed to
for military assistance, which he refused. He told
the citizens that he had a scout working for him by
the name of Wild BiU, and that if they could arrange
with him, he would guarantee that the lawless element
would be kept under control. These arrangements
were finally made and Wild Bill became the first
marshal of Hayes City. This was in the year 1868.
A marshal of those days was very different from what
the reader today might naturally suppose. He was
employed by the better class to maintain peace and
order, and his word and acts were the recognized law;
there being no court of justice in existence at that
time, neither had a marshal any power invested in
him by the Government.
Bill was a man of great characteristics, of magnetic
power, and probably the quickest man with a six-
shooter the world has ever produced. He was never
known to shoot twice at the same man, the first shot
in every case meaning certain death. (This brings my
story of Wild BiU down to the time when we first
met). While Bill was marshal of Hayes City, I witnessed
his killing of seven soldiers, the circumstances of
which were as foUows:

Page 47 HARDKNOCKS
There were fifteen soldiers in the party, one of
them being a 1st Sergant, with whom Bill had pre
viously had trouble at Fort Hayes. This had resulted
in iU feeling between the two, and further trouble
was certain. Meeting Bill on the street at Hayes
City, the sergeant having imbibed very freely and
throwing caution to the winds, invited BiU to put
away his guns and engage with him in a bare fist
fight. To this Bill readily consented and, handing
his guns to his friend, Paddy Walch, a saloon keeper.
Bill and the sergeant went into the street to fight it
out. Bill knocked the sergeant down three times.
The soldiers, seeing their sergeant getting the worst
of it, rushed in on BiU, one from behind placing his
knee in the smaU of Bill's back, forcing him to the
ground, the others in front kicking and striking at
him. At this juncture Walch, fearing that Bill would
be killed, came running up, handed BiU his guns and
told him to use them if he valued his Ufe. Without
one instant's hesitation Bill seized his guns and com
menced a rapid fire, kilUng two soldiers back of him
by shooting over his right shoulder, at the same time
kilUng five more in front with the gun in his left
hand. NaturaUy this created great excitement, as
kilUng a soldier, even by a town marshal, was a very
serious affair those days. Bill, knowing that General
Custer would give the matter a very thorough in
vestigation, decided to leave the town and secrete him
self in the hills until this was over.
General Custer decided that Bill was justified in
the killing and exonerated him from all blame. Bill
then resumed his duties as marshal, in the discharge
of his duties while marshal of that town, he had a
record of killing twelve men.
In the spring of 1869, the town of Abilene, Kansas,
sprang up. This town was composed of an entirely
different element from Hayes City, but the toughness

HARD KNOCKS Page 48
predominated to a still larger extent, if such a thing
were possible. Abilene was the rendezvous of cattle
men and cowboys, who drove large herds of cattle
from Texas to Abilene, from where they were shipped
to eastern markets. Naturally, Abilene became the
scene of the wildest disorder; being marked by
drunken orgies, carousals without number, and num
erous shooting scrapes that were the natural result.
The first marshal of Abilene was one Green River
Smith. This man, fearless and endowed with plenty
of nerve, and having a very good opinion of himself,
made many boasts; one of which was, that a bullet
had never been moulded that could kiU him. A short
time after this boast, he was doomed to death, but in
a different way from that of a buUet.
Taking his deputy with him, he left Abilene in
search of two horse thieves who had been very
troublesome to many. The thieves were located in a
dug-out, three miles from town. Smith stationed
his deputy at the entrance, he himself going inside.
While in there, his deputy for some unexplained cause
became alarmed and disappeared. One of the horse
thieves, stepping behind Smith, struck him in the head
with an axe, killing him and decapitated him. The
news of Smith's death at the hands of the horse
thief quickly reached Abilene, and for two months
afterward the town was completely in the hands of
the lawless element; in fact, the state of affairs had
reached such a stage that the law-abiding citizens were
seriously contemplating abandoning the town. At this
critical time, a man who had just arrived from Hayes
City remarked that if they could but secure Wild
Bin, their troubles would be over. This was met
with instant favor and resulted in Wild Bill becoming
their next marshal.
Now, dear readers, we will pause for a moment as
I wish to impress more vividly on your mind the

J. B. HICKOK (Wild Bill)
The great Western peace officer. Marshal of the towns of Hayes City. Abeline
and Ellsworth. Kansas, from 1868 to 1870. (From a photo taken in 1871)

Page 49 HARDKNOCKS
state of affairs as they existed at this time, also the
Herculean task Wild Bill had before him. Here was
a town that for two months had been in the hands of
a drunken, desperate, frenzied mob. Many men even
of that day would have hesitated had they been
placed in the position of Wild BiU and allotted
the necessary work he was to set out to do, in
order to completely change the conditions of the town.
I went to Abilene about four weeks before Bill and
remember distinctly the day he arrived there. It was
about four o'clock in the afternoon. He received a
warm welcome from the law-abiding citizens. The
news of his coming had preceded him, and was treated
by the lawless element as a huge joke. They had had
things their own way for so long without opposition,
that the idea of a single man subduing them was, from
their point of view, simply ridiculous. BiU commenced
business immediately upon his arrival. His first order
was that aU men should disarm. Entering one of
the largest saloons, called "The BuUshead," Bill en
countered a number of cow-punchers and ordered them
to disarm. This order was met with jeers and deris
ion; some reaching defiantly for their guns. Bill, ever
on the alert, whipped out his guns and his rapid fire
quickly snuffed out the lives of eight men. This
action had a magic effect, and the manager of the
saloon (Ed Norton) was for a time kept busy receiv
ing the guns handed him by those who had suddenly
decided that discretion was the better part of valor.
This was Bill's first official act in Abilene ; temporarily,
it had a depressing effect. For a short time they
seemed to feel that they had more than met their
master. As this feeling graduaUy wore off, a number
of them coUected in a dance-haU where they concocted
a plan to assassinate him. This was, fortunately,
overheard by a man named BiUy Mullen, who had
known BiU in Hayes City. Mullen quickly made his
way to The BuUshead saloon and appraised BiU of

HARD KNOCKS Page 50
the plot. Bill went immediately to the dance-haU and
ordered all who were in there to back up against the
wall and put their six-shooters on the floor at their
feet. Meeting, as he has expected, with some oppo
sition, and being a man who took no chances, Bill
immediately began shooting, killing five before it was
fully reaUzed that he was indeed their master.
I win narrate one more episode that occurred in
this town. There was a certain character who went
by the name of "Shang," — so named from his great
height, Shang was a wealthy Texas cattle man. He
employed about two hundred cow-punchers or cow
boys, as they are called now-a-days, and large droves
of his cattle were constantly being driven in to Abil
ene. Shang's power among this certain class, owing
to his immense wealth, was supreme. It was not
unusual for him to have an enemy kiUed for a money
consideration. Shang and Bill had faUen out, as the
result of a fancied grievance, and Shang decided that
Bill's Ufe should pay the forfeit.
For this purpose he sent to Texas for a man
named Phil Cole, a noted Texas gun-fighter with a
reputation in that state, equal to Bill's in Kansas.
The agreement was that Cole was to come to Abilene
and kill Bill, for which Shang was to pay him one
thousand doUars. On Cole's arrival Shang met hira
on the outskirts of the town, taking him down to the
corral and taking the precaution to have Cole remove
his six-shooters and spurs, so as not to arouse any
suspicion. I do not beUeve at that particular time
that Bill thought for a moment that Shang had sent
for Cole. Bill and Cole had never seen each other,
and they knew each other by reputation only. Shang's
desire was to point out Bill to Cole without arousing
Bill's suspicions. Shang and Cole left the corral
together, going to The BuUshead saloon, where he
pointed out Bill to Cole. Cole, when he looked this

Page 51 HARDKNOCKS
great man over, and having heard so much of him
through Shang, completely lost his nerve. But know
ing what he was brought there for and also knowing
that he must make good to Shang, Cole asked Shang
to walk back down to the corral with him; where
together they talked the matter over. Shang finaUy
went home. Cole, after Shang had left him, conceived
the idea of taking a dog that was in the corral, tying a
rope around its neck, arming himself, and later taking
the dog to The BuUshead. This decided upon, he started
off with the dog at about half past one o'clock in the
morning. On reaching the saloon, he tied the dog
to the door latch, and stood behind an awning post
in front of the door. Knowing that Bill was on the
inside, he shot the dog, expecting Bill to run out in the
dark to see what the shooting was about. BiU was not
to be caught in this trap. Instead of running out,
with gun in hand he opened the door, keeping behind
it until the Ught shone from the saloon into the street,
when he saw Cole peeking from behind the awning
post. They both shot at the same time ; BiU a fraction
of a second quicker than Cole and his bullet entering
Cole's heart, killed him instantly. Thus ended the
career of the greatest gun-fighter Texas ever
produced. While Marshal of Abilene, Bill was compeUed to
kiU twenty-five men, but he had been successful in his
mission and had transformed Abilene into a peaceful,
law-abiding town.
In the following year, 1870, the cattle business be
gan to spread out and new towns were springing up,
and vieing with Abilene as a cattle center. Among
these was the town of Ellsworth, which was sorely in
need of a fearless marshal. Bill transferred his base
of operations to that town, but did not meet with the
opposition he had met with in Abilene. By this time,
his reputation had spread far and wide and the ma-

HARD KNOCKS Page 52
jority of the evil-doers of Ellsworth looked upon him
with wholesome respect, and the killing of nine men
was all that was necessary to show them that Bill was
master of the situation. After acting as marshal of
Ellsworth for a year, BiU decided to make a change,
and leaving the town went to Kansas City, Missouri.
Here he met and married Mrs. Lake, the widow of a
prominent circus-man.
Texans brought many race ponies with them to
Abeline and raced them for large sums of money. In
those days the distance was one-fourth mile. They
started them with their rear to the outcome, and at
the crack of a six-shooter fired by the starter, they
whirled on their hind legs and ran for dear Ufe to
the outcome, I have seen fifty head of Texas steers
driven to the race and bet against money on the re
sult. Everyone joined in these poney races. Gamblers,
saloonkeepers, cattlemen, cow punchers, dance hail
keepers and dance hall girls all bet their money on the
results. In the Summer of 1870 I left Abilene, going to
Ellsworth, where I remained until Fall ; finally joining
the Toole Brothers, who had purchased out of the va
rious herds, eight hundred head of young stock cattle,
our destination being Montana.
They intended to winter the cattle on the Arkansas
River, about one hundred and twenty-five miles west
of Fort Dodge. We arrived there in due time without
any trouble, except from the buffalo, which stampeded
the cattle two or three times. There were hundreds
of thousands of buffalo in the country at this tirae.
After locating ourselves on our winter's range, we
built two dug-outs in which to Uve. These were con
structed by cutting into a bank or hillside to the size
desired, then roofing it over with ridge and roof poles,
and covering all over with dirt. The front end was
built up with sod, an opening being left for the door.

Page 53 HARDKNOCKS
One night during the first week we Uved in the
dug-out, we were awakened by one of the cattle walk
ing over the roof. Before many minutes had elapsed,
she feU through up to her body and we experienced
a great difficulty in getting her out. Had she fallen
aU the way down, or through, she would have landed
on my bunk, with probably fatal results to both of us.
Our down river dug-out was located nine miles be
low. Two of the boys and a cook took care of that
end of the range. They rode up river every morning
and we rode down, meeting them each day and com
paring notes. It was necessary to keep the cattle on
the range; we also kept two additional men whose
duty it was to keep the buffalo off the range; they
were called "buffalo whoopers," These buffalo were
very destructive to the "buffalo grass," It was very
short and curly; always green near the ground and
very fattening for stock. The buffalo usually re
mained in the hills back from the river, where they
found numerous large holes, known as "buffalo wal
lows." These wallows were filled with water from the
rains and melting snow, where they procured their
drinking water. During the severe winters these holes
would freeze over, compelling the buffalo to go to the
river for water.
I have heard many controversies regarding the
formation of these holes or wallows, and will here ex
plain to you from personal knowledge how they were
made and why called buffalo wallows:
During the summer months the buffalo would
travel this country in immense herds and were contin
uaUy attacked by an insect called the buffalo gnat.
These gnats would work their way down through the
hair into the hide of the buffalo and cause constant
itching. In desperation, the buffalo would tear up the
earth with his horns and with his front foot throw
the loose earth over his body, and then Ue down, roll-

HARD KNOCKS Page 54
ing over and over until his body was completely cov
ered with the earth. This made a depression in the
ground. The buffalo would then rise to his feet, shak
ing his body, causing great clouds of dust which ex
terminated the gnat. This same performance would
be gone through by others until a large, deep hole was
the result ; thus the name of "buffalo wallow." Thou
sands of these holes were to be found on the prairie,
and were all formed in this manner.
It is wonderful the uses that were made of these
buffalo wallows after the buffalo were exterminated,
as many a tired emigrant wending his way westward
found water for himself and stock; many of them also
using these holes as breast works, when attacked by
Indians. In the vicinity of these holes was also found
a vast amount of offal from the buffalo, called buffalo
chips, which was used for fuel for cooking purposes.
I, myself, have eaten many a good meal cooked by this
kind of fuel.
It was very remarkable, however, that one never
found the great buffalo herds moving any direction
but south, unless when they were scared, when they
would run north for a short distance, but would
eventually resume their journey south. It is no ex
aggeration to say that at times I have stood on
heights and have seen hundreds of thousands of these
animals in one great herd. The extermination of
these vast herds was completed in a few years.
One bright, cold winter morning we were in the
dug-out and saw an immense herd of buffalo coming
to the river for water.
"Young has never killed a buffalo," said Mr. Toole,
when we sighted the herd, "and here is his chance.
Let him take the first shot." I took an old Spencer
carbine and secreted myself in a clump of wiUows near
the river, in sight of the dug-out. In a few minutes
on came the herd and in a short time hundreds of

Page 55 HARDKNOCKS
these magnificent animals were on all sides of me.
For some reason, however, they did not see or scent
me. I became nervous and yelled at them. In a
moment everything was in confusion — never shall I
forget that grand sight. Every buffalo in the herd
seemed to be aware of his danger and immediately
stampeded toward the hills. One old buU came with
in two feet of my hiding place. Although I was very
much frightened, I pointed the gun at him and pulled
the trigger. I then made a run for the dug-out with
out waiting to see the result of my shot, completely
forgetting that there were other loads in the magazine
of the weapon. The buffalo did not immediately f aU,
although I was sure that my shot had struck him.
When near the dug-out I saw the boys looking at a
point back of me, and following the direction of their
gaze I saw the buffalo in the throes of death. "Why
didn't you take another shot at them?" asked Mr.
Toole. "Because," I repUed, straightening up as proud as
a peacock, "one shot is enough for a green hand."
Later on I became quite a buffalo hunter. The four
months that I remained with the Toole Brothers, I
killed forty-six of these animals. Each herder carried
a gun and ammunition, and we were supposed to kill
aU the buffalo possible ; some we used for food, but our
principal revenue was from their hides. The prices
were three dollars and ten cents for buU hides, and
two dollars and ten cents for cow hides. Mr. Toole
told me afterward that during their winter stay there,
they had killed and sold enough hides to pay the
wages and expenses of the men for the entire winter.
The almost complete extermination of the buffalo
was caused by professional hunters, who were con
tinually kilUng them for their hides. These hides
were hauled to the nearest railroad station, where
they were sold and later on shipped to England, where
they were made into belting for machinery. Few

HARD KNOCKS Page 56
were made into buffalo robes, as the hunters did not
have the time to tan them.
To give the reader some idea of the money made
by some of these profession hunters, I will select
one man whom I knew well. His name was Kirt
Jordan. Kirt had three four-horse teams and twenty
men in his employ and was one of the most successful
hunters at this time. He held the record, having
killed a hundred buffalo in one stand. In getting a
stand of buffalo, the hunter must crawl up unawares
without being seen or scented. Should the hunter be
fortunate enough not to be seen or scented, he could
kill numbers of them before they would get out of
gun-shot, as they are not easily frightened. After
quitting the Toole Brothers, I went skinning buffalo
for Kirk Jordan and was the first to suggest and put
into practical operation the skinning of buffalo by
mule power. This was done by cutting the hide
around the neck, down the beUy and up the legs,
after which the skin was started a little. A large
sharp steel pin was then driven through the buffalo's
nose and into the ground; then a hole was cut in
the back part of the hide at the neck, a chain hooked
in the cut and by means of a collar, hames, traces and
single-tree, with which the mule was equipped, the
hide was puUed off the buffalo with the greatest of
ease. Of course, by this operation much of the flesh
adhered to the hide, but the market value of the latter
was not affected in the least. After the hides had
been staked out until partly dry, they were loaded on
wagons, which were equipped with a rack similar
to a hay-rack, also using a binding pole. In this
way a great many hides could be hauled in one load.
These wagons were drawn by four animals to the
nearest town on the Une of the Atchison, Topeka &
Santa Fe railroad, and sold at the prices previously
mentioned. Anyone who was a good hunter and who
had an outfit, could make a great deal of money in

A group of Dodge City, Kansas, gun fighters in 1870. (From an old photo taken in Kansas City in 1871 )
From left to right, standing, W. H. Harris, Luke Short, W. B. Masterson, W. H. Petillon. From left
to right, sitting, C. Bassett, Wyatt Earp, McNeal, Neal Brown.

Page 57 HARDKNOCKS
this business as long as it lasted. Kirk Jordan made
thousands of dollars.
Kirt Jordan, the great buffalo hunter, finaUy went
wrong, and became a horse and mule thief. The U. S.
marshal arrested him for steaUng government mules,
tried and sentenced him to Leavenworth Government
Prison for ten years. An officer and two men, with
Kirt handcuffed, started for Leavenworth, Kirt sit
ting in the seat with the officer, and the soldiers sit
ting in the seat at his back. Kirt requested the offi
cer to unhandcuff him as he wished to wash himself
in the toilet. The officer did so, when,, as quick as
Ughtning, he grabbed the officer's six-shooter from
his scabard and shot him dead. He then shot one of
the soldiers, and jumped through the open window to
the ground, lighting on his head and breaking his
neck. Poor Kirt was a good fellow, but, like many
others, after his occupation as a buffalo hunter ended,
he could not resume his occupation as a teamster, and
accordingly went bad.
BilUe Brooks, the gun man of Dodge City in the
early seventies, was one day riding on the construc
tion train from Dodge City to Sergeant. The conduc
tor, coming through the coach, asked him for his
fare. Brooks replied by drawing his six-shooter, say
ing, "I travel on this." The conductor passed on.
After he was through with his fare collecting, he went
forward to the locomotive and instructed the engineer
to slow down at a certain point. Getting his shotgun,
he dropped off the engine and caught the last car, in
which Brooks was seated. Approaching from the
back, he called out, "Brooks, the fare to Sergeant is
$2.75." Brooks looked over his shoulder, and seeing
the shotgun pointed at him, replied:
"To whom do I pay the money?"
Just then the brakeman stepped in. The conduc
tor said, "Pay the brakeman, and also hand him your

HARD KNOCKS Page 58
six-shooters, and when you arrive at Sergeant the
agent there will return them to you."
Brooks did so. Meeting the conductor the same
night in the dance haU, Brooks said, "Old man, you
are a good fellow and a good collector, and I want to
be your friend." Thus the matter ended.
Brooks in future days became a horse and mule
thief, and was chased by a posse to a dugout near
Wichita, where he stood the posse off for two days.
He was finally induced to surrender with the promise
that he would be tried by law in Wichita. He was
told to leave his guns in the dugout and walk out un
armed. He did so, and was mounted on a horse and
taken to a nearby tree and hanged. Thus ended
Brooks' career as a gun man.
One year after the Santa Fe railroad had been
constructed along the Arkansas river, there came
into that country an old man with a two-horse team,
who quietly began the gathering of buffalo bones,
hauUng them to the railroad and piling them in great
heaps. The boys all laughed at him and dubbed him
"Old Buffalo Bones." The old fellow enjoyed their
joking him and kept on with his gathering. Later he
procured another team and sent east for his son to
drive it. The foUowing year this man had many great
piles of bones ready for shipment east. The Santa
Fe railroad being anxious to load their empty cars
eastward, gave him a very low rate and laid side
tracks to the piles. The records at Dodge City show
that this "Old Bones" shipped three thousand carloads
to Philadalphia, where they were used in sugar re
fineries and for fertilizing purposes. This old man,
at whom we had laughed, made a great fortune in
two years.
To give the reader an idea of the number of buffalo
killed in that country, the railroad records at Dodge

Page 59 HARDKNOCKS
City show that two million buffalo hides were shipped
from that station alone, and it is estimated that there
were twenty-million buffalo killed between the bound
aries of Montana and Texas.

HARD KNOCKS Page 60

CHAPTER VII.
STRENUOUS PIONEER LIFE AT FORT DODGE— UNSUNG
AND UNHUNG HEROES— BOOT HILL CEMETERY-
PORTABLE DANCE HALLS— CARNIVAL OF MURDER
—WORK OF THE VIGILANTES— THE FAITHFUL
BULLDOG— HORRIBLE PRACTICAL JOKE ON THE
BUFFALO SKIN ROBBER— "RUN, DARCY! RUN FOB
LIFE"— TRIBUTE TO THE DANCE HALL GIRL.
IN the early spring of 1871, having tired of the
buffalo skinning business, I returned to the
Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe extension, that I
might experience frontier life, then to be found in
aU its glory. I went over to Dodge City, then the
terminus. The town was two miles west of Fort Dodge
and all the elements of frontier life were there, includ
ing many saloons and three large dance halls. 'That the
town was rough, goes without question. Buffalo
hunters made their headquarters here, and disposed
of their hides and spent their money lavishly.
. There are few who know, and it is difficult to con
ceive, how hardened men can become when in such
surroundings as existed there. My experiences in
that town were many and varied, and the characters
were a study for one of a contemplative turn of mind.
Among those whom I now recaU were BiUy Brooks,
of Newton fame ; "Dog" Kelly, who kept a large saloon
there and who derived his nicname "Dog" from being
a large owner of greyhounds, which the sporting
element used for hunting jack rabbits. They bet a
great deal of money on these hounds and made very
fine sport of it. I understand that this character,
KeUy, is still alive in Dodge City. Other characters,
Pete Hicks, who was day marshal; his brother Bill,
night marshal, and both of whom were killed there
later on, and Bat Masterson, who is now Uving in

Page 61 HARDKNOCKS
New York. Others were, Lushy BiU, Ed. Hurley,
Fancy Pat, Tom Sherman, Mose 'Walters, Jim Han-
nafan, Joe Hunt, George Peacock, and many whose
names I have forgotten. At this particular time in
the west, a great many men had nicknames and one
never did know their proper names and cared less.
As an illustration of the lawlessness in that town :
One night Ed. Hurley and three others were crossing
from the main town to the dance-haU. They saw a
buffalo hunter standing in the middle of the street,
yelling at the top of his voice : "I am a wolf, it is my
night to howl, and I would like to have some 
stop me."
"What is the matter with you?" asked Hurley,
walking up to the fellow.
"I am a wolf," was the reply; "it is my night to
howl and the whole bunch of you can't stop me."
Whereupon, Hurley, without a word of waming,
shot him dead. Hurley then kicked him, saying as
he did so: "Now, why don't you howl?" Hurley then
went on to the dance-haU, singing as he did so. As
he entered the door, he saw a man named McClelland
talking to a dance-haU girl named Nellie Rivers. This
arousal Hurley's jealousy, and he began shooting at
McClelland; the latter returning the fire, kiUed Hurley.
McClelland at this time was a brakesman on the
railroad, but after this episode, he left the job and
became a gun-fighter. His career was short, how
ever, for he was killed by a desperado named "Scotty"
in Peacock's saloon just one week after he kiUed
Hurley, After the kiUing, McClelland lay on the ba^
room floor when NeUie Rivers, who had heard of his
death, came in to look at him. Sitting astride of his
body, folding his hands over his breast, she cried
"you kUled my Eddie! You killed my Eddie!" meaning
Hurley; emphasizing the statement each time by

HARD KNOCKS Page 62
slapping the face of the dead man. She continued
slapping him and finally had to be puUed away.
McClelland was buried the next morning in Boot
Hill cemetery, the name "Boot HiU' being acquired
from the fact that aU who were buried there had died
with their boots on. The one exception was a drunken
painter who had died of delerium tremens. This
cemetery is still a landmark of early days, and during
the six months that I Uved in Dodge, sixty-five men
were buried there, all having died "with their boots
on." At this time I was night watchman at the Govern
ment freight shed, situated at the east Umit of the
town. Although, I will confess, instead of remaining
on duty at night as I should have done, I spent a
great portion of my time in the dance-halls. One
beautiful moonlight night, I, together with about one
hundred others, was in one of these places, when a
drunken buffalo hunter stepped in at the door and
exclaiming, "Oh, what a field," began shooting over
our heads. He did not cease shooting until he had
emptied both guns. When the dance-haU was built,
it was made up in sections, fastened together with
hooks and staples, so that when the towns moved
on farther west, the hall could be loaded on flat cars
and set up again at the next terminus. When the
drunken hunter began shooting, the crowd made its
escape by rushing head-long against the sides of the
hall, practically knocking the structure to pieces. We
all made our escape and as no one was hit, it is my
belief that he shot only to frighten us. The citizens,
however, could not see the situation in that light and
advocated hanging, as the best remedy.
They probably thought that one might as weU be
killed as almost scared to death, and for this reason
they failed to see the point of the joke and insisted on
hanging him. He ran up into one of the canyons

Page 63 HARDKNOCKS
near the town, but was caught later and brought back.
He was tried in "Dog Kelly's saloon, convicted and
taken out to be hanged. He broke away and ran for
his wagon, which was on the edge of the town, and as
he crawled under it, he was shot by Pete Hicks, the
marshal. His faithful buUdog was tied under the
wagon and when one of the men reached to pull the
dead body out, the dog seized him by the arm and
had to be killed before he would let go.
One of the closest calls I ever had was in Dodge
City. I was in "Handsome Harry's" saloon one day
and had some difficulty with a cook who worked in the
restaurant next door, when a few blows were ex
changed. He went away, and I supposed the trouble
was over. A Uttle later on, I was standing at the
bar with my back toward the entrance of the saloon
when he entered, and without any warning took two
shots at me; neither one taking effect. I being un
armed, one of the crowd caught and held him until
I could get my gun, which happened to be behind the
bar. We then agreed to go out on the prairie and
settle the matter. We were to place our backs to
gether, walk ten paces in opposite directions, turn and
fire. We went out, but before either of us could do
any damage, our friends interefered and the proceed
ings stopped. It is probable that neither of us re
gretted the interference very much, for later we be
came warm friends. He and another man went south
a few weeks later to sell whiskey to the Kiwa Indians.
Unfortunately, arriving in their country while they
were on the war path, it resulted in the cook and
his partner being killed by this tribe and all their
whiskey being confiscated.
The town of Dodge City soon afterward became
so tough that the saloon men and merchants formed
themselves into a vigilance committee and appointed
Fancy Pat as their leader. They were determined

HARD KNOCKS Page 64
to rid the town of all undesirable characters. Equip
ping themselves with revolvers, rifles and shot-guns,
they made ready for the slaughter. Selecting all the
tough men whom they wished to exterminate, at a
given signal they swooped on all three dance-halls
and began shooting — and what a slaughter. Fourteen
men were killed and were left lying in the street all
night where they fell, I recoUect the name of only
one of the victims, "Tex WiUiams," Tex was shot
completely to pieces, as he ran out of the front door
of the dance-haU. He was a ghastly sight, being
riddled from head to foot, I was told later that even
small screws were picked out of his body, I do not
doubt the truth of this assertion, as many of the
men used small screws as ammunition for their shot
guns. At the time of the kilUng, I was standing in
a saloon, when two or three of the men, whom the
Regulators were after, ran through the room and
secreted themselves in the coal cellar. The Regulators
came in shortly and asked Frank Pedrie, the bai*-
keeper, if any of the gang were hidden thereabouts.
Pedrie replied "No," when they took a drink aU round,
and left for Sherman's dance-haU. They then collected
aU the dance-haU girls, who had run away screaming
when the shooting took place. One of the dead men
lay in front of the entrance to the hall, where he had
dropped when shot.
It was a cold, in fact, freezing night, and as he
lay there with wide open mouth, his eyes set in death,
and his body entirely covered with blood, he was a
sight to sicken the strongest. One of the dance-hall
girls tied her handkerchief around his head to keep
his mouth closed, when one of the Regulators, who
witnessed this humane act, struck her on the head
with his six-shooter, wounding her severely. The
dead body of the victim lay there until daylight, while
the Regulators enjoyed themselves dancing and drink
ing. It was an awful night of murder and carnage.

CALAMITY JANE
The great female character of Wyoming from 1875 to 1906

Page 65 HARDKNOCKS
I say murder, for most all the Regulators were them
selves gun-fighters as well as businessmen, and many
of them were equaUy as bad as their victims.
The morning after the killing they employed six
carpenters, who made seven boxes out of rough lum
ber, putting two victims in each box, then loading
them onto two-horse wagons. The procession then
started for Boot Hill cemetery — and such a sight!
I shaU never forget it. Most everyone in town turned
out, the greatest part of whom were the Regulators,
who had done the kilUng. They had caroused all night,
some shooting as they proceeded up the hill; others
laughing, and others swearing. Each man Unked arms
with a dance-haU girl. FinaUy arriving at the pre
pared graves, they lowered each box and made all
kinds of gestures and remarks.
While the earth was shoveled onto the boxes, they
circled around, dancing Uke a lot of wild Indians.
One of them, I recollect, remarked, "Let us give
them each a flask of whiskey, to use on their way to
hell." Work was stopped until the seven flasks of
whiskey were procured and deposited in the graves,
when aU returned to town, yelling and laughing. This
ended the night of horror in Dodge City, Kansas.
Shortly after this occurrence took place, complaint
was made by the buffalo hide merchants that someone
was stealing their hides, which were piled up in the
streets in front of their stores. Five hundred dollars
reward was finally offered for the capture of the
thieves. I was asked by the Hicks Brothers to assist
them in capturing the guilty parties. While on watch
one moonUght night, we saw a man getting away
with two hides on his shoulder. We called on him to
halt, but instead of obeying us, he dropped the hides
and ran. We took a shot at him but missed and he
continued running toward the Arkansas river, and we
following him. When he had run into the water up to

HARDKNOCKS Page 66
his waist, he threw up his hands and promised to
come out if we would not shoot. On his return to the
bank we discovered that it was Darcey, one of the
town's old drunks. He begged to be aUowed to go, as
he was only trying to get a little money with which
to buy whiskey. I favored letting him go and saying
nothing of the occurrence. But the Hicks Brothers
wanted that five hundred doUars blood money, and in
sisted that he be summarily dealt with. We took him
to the railroad station and reported the capture to
the merchants. When they saw who it was, they
decided to release him. Dog Kelly, however, saw an
opportunity for a practical joke, and had poor old
Darcey brought up to his saloon and tried for the
offense. Of course, he was found guilty; the verdict
was that he should be hanged to a telegraph pole.
The old man begged and prayed for mercy, but with
out avail. He was taken up the railroad track and
while one of the men was climbing the pole to arrange
the rope, Kelly, according to a prearranged plan,
whispered to Darcey, "Now is your chance; run for
your life." The old feUow taking advantage of the
opportunity began to run as he had never run before.
Suddenly we began shooting in the air and yelUng
"Stop Darcey! Stop!" we running after him. Of
course, we stopped after a little and allowed him to
escape. He probably considered it the closest caU of
his Ufe; and I think, if alive, he is running yet, as he
was never again seen in that vicinity.
I wish to make special mention of the class of
dance-haU girls that were brought to Dodge City in
early days. In many instances they were girls who
had been well raised, but who were inveigled into
that tough town by misrepresentation on the part of
whom we would term today "Whiteslavers." After
getting them to Dodge, they would put them in dance-
halls, turning them over to gun-men who became their
lovers and by whom they were treated in nearly all

Page 67 HARDKNOCKS
cases most crueUy. NeUie Rivers, of whom I have
spoken, was well educated and very handsome, and
evidently came from a good family. Realizing the
unavoidable position in which she was placed and the
hopelessness of ever getting back to her former home,
she became a great hater of men and seemed pos
sessed of a mania for having them kiUed for trivial
reasons. After succeeding in being the cause of
having five killed, she was considered so dangerous
that it was decided to hang her. Her life was saved,
however, through the intervention of Fancy Pat and
Dog Kelly. She was aUowed to leave town with the
understanding that she was not to return. She was
never again seen in her old haunts.
Many of these dance-hall girls had rough exteriors,
which covered warm hearts. One would be surprised
at the sacrifices and attentions they would devote to
the sick and wounded. I have known many cases
where they would quit their work and sit up with
them, devoting tender care, and not asking or expect
ing anything in return. I shall always have a warm
spot in my heart for the poor unfortunate dance-hall
girls. It is not generally known at this date that the
dance hall girl was the true pioneer woman of the
West. Few of them in the seventies, if they stood
the stormy days, married good men — cattle men,
merchandising men, miners, etc., and made noble
wives and mothers. I could name one who bore two
sons and one daughter. One of the sons later repre
sented a Middle Western state in the U. S. Congress.
After the dance hall girl came the farmer and his wife.
Then the dance hall girl disappeared, her occupation
being a thing of the past.
It is a true saying that "music hath charms to
soothe the savage." I distinctly remember one night
in Tom Sherman's dance-haU, when revelry was at its

HARD KNOCKS Page 68
height; with aU its drinking, cursing and swearing.
The revellers were at the bar, each accompanied by
his girl, when suddenly a character named "Sims"
the violinist of the dance-hall, stringing his instru
ment to a high key, commenced playing in a masterly
style, the old familiar tune "Home, Sweet Home." In
a moment all was still, many holding their liquor
glasses in their hands, their heads bowed and tears
trickling down their cheeks. This was a very un
usual scene, and one never to be forgotten. Suddenly,
in a loud tone of voice, the dance-hall manager or
more commonly known as the "Bouncer," shouted,
"Get your partners for the next quadriUe." All was
forgotten; the music started up and the wild revelry
again resumed. Such was life in the west in early
days. A few words of explanation regarding gun-
fighters of Dodge City and other frontier towns.
Take such men as Bat Materson: he was the soul of
honor and only killed when it was necessary to pro
tect himself. Luke Short, who had a great reputation
as a gun-man, foUowed the occupation of a gambler
and killed many men. Luke was a fine man, with
gentlemanly instincts, but quick tempered. He was
considered square and much respected; also Wyat
Erap, who had considerable trouble in Arizona in
early days, and killed with his brothers many men
in that country. I met Wyat in Nome, Alaska, in
1900 and found him a perfect gentleman. This class
of men didn't kill for gain. Another class of gun
men who were desperadoes, horse thieves and road
agents, who killed for gain. This class were entirely
different from Materson, Short and Earp.

Errata — The Spelling of Materson as above given is incorrect.
It should be Masterson.

Page 69 HARDKNOCKS

CHAPTER VIII.
MURDERS FOR MONEY— TWO INNOCENT MEN SUFFER
FOR THE CRIME— THE FACTS ONLY RECENTLY
TOLD— CATCHING BUFFALO— OVER TO THE UNION
PACIFIC RAILROAD — WILD BILL AGAIN — "RED
PAT," THE TEAMSTER, WHO STILL LIVES.
A NOTHER tough character at Dodge City, was
/\ "Kelly the Rake." While I was herding
/-_m cattle for Toole Brothers, Kelly and another
A jL tough denizen named Red Johnson, whom I
had met in Wichita, entered the employ of a
man named Jack (I do not recollect his other name) ;
they camped at our upper dug-out. These three men,
Kelly, Johnson and Jack, were going southward for
the purpose of hunting buffalo, forming a partnership
for that purpose. Sometime later Johnson and KeUy
returned to the town of Sergeant, on the Colorado-
Kansas state line, and at that time the terminus
of the A. T. & S. F. Ry. They returned with a big
load of buffalo hides and the information that they
had bought out the third man. Jack. The hides were
sold to Chris Gillson, after which Johnson and Kelly
became gloriously drunk. While in this condition they
met Clark and McClellan, two buffalo skinners who
were in town and to whom they imparted the infor
mation that they, Kelly and Johnson, had kiUed Jack
and buried him in the sand hills. On sobering up
the next day, they became alarmed lest Clark and
McClellan should divulge what had been told them.
Determined to put these men out of the way, if
possible, Kelly and Johnson went to Chris GiUson and
told him that Clark and McCleUan were planning to
kiU and rob him that night. Gillson, who had just
received a large sum of money from the sale of a lot
of hides, was very much alarmed and spent the night

HARD KNOCKS Page 70
in a box car instead of in his tent. The next morning
Chris and I were standing outside his tent, talking,
when Clark and McCleUan came along, with no
thought of danger. Chris, who had a doubled-barreled
shotgun in his hands, emptied one barrel of the
weapon into Clark, killing him instantly. He then
pursued McCleUan, who was by this time attempting
to get away, and shot him down, the poor fellow
begging all the time for mercy.
The reader wiU possibly question the source of
my information regarding this affair. I did not come
into possession of the facts in the case until several
years later, when I was employed as traveUng pas
senger agent for the Oregon Railroad & Navigation
Company, and on one occasion had to go to St. Paul,
Minn., stopping off en route at every coupon ticket
office on the line of the Northern Pacific Railway.
Shortly after leaving Miles City, Montana, I went into
the smoking car. There I noticed a pock-marked man
sitting in front of me and whose face seemed familiar.
Presently, I reaUzed who he was. "How are you
Chris?" I asked, turning to him.
"You have the best of me," was his reply, "What
is your name ?" On being told who I was, he showed
great delight, and together we spent some time talk
ing over the old days on the A, T, & S, F.
"Have you ever seen 'KeUy the Rake' in your
travels ?" he asked. I told him no.
"WeU," he continued, "if I ever meet him, he will
be a dead man." After which he told me the story
narrated above. He also told me he had found out
in the intervening time that McCleUan and Clark were
innocent of any intention to injure him, and that
Kelly had maliciously told him this story for his own
protection, with the thought in mind that "dead men
tell no tales."

Page 71 HARDKNOCKS
Chris was on his way to Washington, D. C, to
collect some Government money due him for two
years' surveying work done in Alaska. I have not
seen him since we met that day.
A few days after this occurred at Sergeant, four
of us went down river to a ranch kept by a man
named "Prairie Dog Dave," for the purpose of catch
ing buffalo calves, our intention being to ship the^ji
east by rail. Insofar as our catching the calves was
concerned, we were very successful. They were
caught in the following manner:
Mounted on our horses, we got as near the herd
as possible, unseen, then suddenly riding after them.
The cows and young calves, when the herd was
stampeded would naturaUy drop to the rear and the
cows would remain with the calves until closely
pressed, when they would desert them. We would
then jump from our horses, throw the calves down
and tie their legs.
At ths season of the year, the calves were about
two months old. We succeeded in catching twenty
head, and finally hauled them to the ranch by wagon.
However, we soon discovered that we could not tame
them, nor could we get them to eat, so out of pity
we let them go. Before doing so, however, two were
drowned in a spring near the ranch. We had picketed
them out, taking the ends of a lariat and fastening
it around their necks, then taking the middle of the
lariat and attaching it to a picket pin, which we drove
into the ground, but the poor little fellows became
entangled in it and fell into the spring, where they
were drowned. Two others escaped with a sixty foot
lariat, which we never recovered, and I shall always
believe that someone stole the lariat and allowed the
calves to get away. Our venture was not a success.
We became discouraged and gave up the business.

HARD KNOCKS Page 72
Had I known as much in those days as I do at the
present time, I could have made a fortune buying
buffalo robes, trading with the Indians, who had
thousands of them and which would not have cost
to exceed five dollars each in trade. A buffalo robe
today is worth from one hundred to five hundred
dollars. I left this section of the country in the fall
of 1871, going to Pueblo, Colorado, from which place
I went to Denver, Colorado. Here I worked for a
short time and then went to Cheyenne, Wyoming,—
situated on the Union Pacific railroad. There I re
sumed my old occupation as a "six-mule skinner"
for the Government, driving out of Camp Carlin,
which was then the Government supply station for
all northern posts. It was located between Cheyenne
and Fort D. A. Russell, on the Union Pacific railroad.
I remained there for about a year.
One night in Cheyenne I strolled into McDaniels'
variety show. On entering the door I spied my old
friend "Wild BiU" standing with his back to the
wall, looking on at a faro game. He did not look very
prosperous, and I was quite sure that the world had
been treating him badly since I had last seen him,
or he certainly would have been one of the players.
I also noticed that when he sat down, he kept the
cases. This gave him an opportunity to pick up any
sleepers that might be left on any dead card by an
inexperienced player.
On seeing me, Bill remarked in a pleased tone:
"Hello, Kid! I am glad to see you. Where have you
been for the last few years, and how is the world
treating you? "
I told him what I had been doing and also what
I was doing at that time. He finally told me that he
was broke.

Frank Guard, the great Indian scout, 1875-6. (Sketch)

Page 73 HARDKNOCKS
This particular night, a man named Ed O'MaUey
was playing the game, and leaving a bet on the jack,
which had become dead. Bill naturally reached over
and took the checks. Later, O'MaUey, missing his
checks, inquired of the dealer what became of his
bet on the jack. The dealer did not answer him, but
some man among the players whispered to him that
Wild BiU took it, whereupon O'MaUey rushed up to
Bill, and with a string of expletives, demanded that
Bill replace the checks on the table. Bill looked up
at him, saying, "What would you do if I did not
replace them?"
O'MaUey replied, "I would cut your heart out."
BiU smiled and then said, "Then I had better
replace them;" which he did. This O'MaUey, whose
occupation was that of a camp cook, was a fighting
Irishman and had kiUed a man several months prior
by stabbing him with a carving knife.
There are many persons who entertain the idea
that Wild BiU was noisy and quarrelsome, but this
impression is not at all correct. During the years of
my acquaintance with him, I never knew him to pick
a quarrel, but have known him to stop many that
might have ended seriously.
At this time a man named Jeff Carr was marshal
of Cheyenne, and when Bill arrived there Carr went
to him, saying : "You can remain in this town as long
as you wish by giving me your word of honor that
you wiU not carry your gun on your person, nor get,
into any trouble that you can possibly avoid." Bill'
agreed to these terms, with one proviso namely, that
he be aUowed to put his gun within easy reach in any
house that he might be. As an illustration, when he
came into McDaniels' theatre, he put his gun behind
the bar.
While in Oieyenne, Bill had won the affections of a
girl whoes lover was a man named "Fighting Tom"

HARD KNOCKS Page 74
and who was the night marshal of the town. Tom
recognized in Bill a dangerous rival and to get him out
of the way, assumed the responsibility of ordering
Bill to leave town within twenty-four hours.
"Why should I leave town?" Bill asked. "Further
more, by whose orders are you attempting to run me
out?" "By order of Jeff Carr," was Tom's reply. With
out further to do. Bill went up to Carr's house and
asked him why he had ordered him out of town.
Carr was much surprised at the question, and said
he knew nothing about the matter. BiU then told Carr
what Fighting Tom had said. To this Carr replied:
"You may remain in this town as long as you please,
so long as you keep your word given to me." Upon
this Bill returned to the variety show and calling
Tom aside, said to him: "Tom you have lied to me.
Jeff Carr says so and I say so. Now if you ever look
my way while I am in Cheyenne, there will be a
vacancy in this town for a night marshal." Tom made
no reply, but walked away, and thus ended the matter.
Cheyenne in those days was a very lively town.
The Union Pacific had their railroad shop there. Fort
D. A. Russell was a very large post, having a great
many soldiers in it. Camp Carlin was also a large
place, and a great many teamsters were employed
there. All the freighting to northern posts, — Fort
Laramie, Fort Fetterman and others, originated from
Cheyenne. The reader can imagine what pay day
meant at Fort D. A. Russell, where at least one thou
sand soldiers were paid on the same day ; one hundred
teamsters would also be paid at Camp CarUn. In
addition to this was the railroad employees' pay day.
This naturally circulated a great deal of money. The
town had many saloons, gambling houses and dance-
halls, with its quota of gamblers and dance-hall girls,
and I assure you it was a very live town. Many of the

Page 75 HARDKNOCKS
merchants and business men were ex-government
teamsters or soldiers, who had been discharged from
the army. For instance, Mr. H. E. Post was formerly
a teamster, but at this time postmatser, and later
represented Cheyenne in United States congress.
One of the largest saloons in Cheyenne was kept
by a character named Red Pat, — so dubbed because
of the color of his hair. This feUow was an ex-
teamster and his saloon was the great resort for
the mule-skinners. While in his place we would spend
our money like drunken sailors, and when we were
broke, he would give us a few doUars and teU us
to go hunt another job. Pat was a good old soul,
but a bad man in a rough and tumble fight. I learned
recently that he is stiU alive and doing business at
the same old location.
To give the reader some idea of Cheyenne on
Government pay-day, the citizens would send all kinds
of vehicles out to the Fort and Camp CarUn, taking
us into town free of charge. Jeff Carr, the marshal,
would deputize twenty-five extra men to keep some
semblance of order. They were not severe, how
ever, and I have seen them when a couple of soldiers
were fighting, keep the crowd back by forming a
ring, letting the contestants fight it out. Just as long
as the soldiers or mule-skinners had money to spend,
they tolerated them, but as soon as their money was
gone, they then began to drive them out of town, and
in some cases, clubbed them unmercifully. We went
back to our jobs, swearing that next pay-day we
would not go into Cheyenne, but we would invariably
land there the following pay-day. At the time I drove
a team at Camp Carlin. Our superintendent was a
man named Botsford, of whom I will write later on.

HARD KNOCKS Page 76

CHAPTER IX.
ON THE CHUGWATER— DEAR OLD FORT LARAMIE-A
TEAMSTER JOB WITH ROUGH ATTACHMENTS— MY
FIRST SIOUX — PLENTY MORE — TWENTY MILES
ALONE AND UNARMED— ON WHITE RIVER— RED
CLOUD— LIBERALITY EXPLAINED.
IN the summer of 1872, I quit my job as teamster
and went to the ranch of Jack Hunton, located on
a stream called the Chugwater, where I worked
with his brother Jim, getting out fence posts,
about two miles from the river, at a place called
Goshen Hole. Some two years after this the Sioux
Indians killed and scalped Jim while he was hunting
for stock. After quitting Hunton, I went to Fort Lar
amie. There I applied for a position as teamster, but
as there was no vacancy, I could not get employment.
I wish the reader to understand that I had not as
yet met any bad wild Indians. However, this experi
ence came to me before I had been in Laramie many
days. Hearing that Cuney & Coffee wanted a team
ster at their ranch, four miles up the Laramie river,
I went there that evening and applied for the job.
Cuney informed me that he did want a teamster. He
then asked me to have a drink, and after talking a
while, he said: "We pay forty dollars a month and
board to drivers of our four-mule teams, and you may
go to work tomorrow morning. Now enjoy yourself."
I informed him that I could not afford to blow myself,
as my money was limited. "Drink aU you want;" was
his reply, "there are no charges to a new-comer."
I looked upon his open-heartedness with suspicion, but
took a few drinks, after which I f eU asleep.
Jack Bowman, the bartender, took me into a side
room filled with furs of all descriptions and I lay there
and slept until Jack wakened me about daylight. He

Page 77 HARDKNOCKS
then gave me a bottle of mustard pickles and some
crackers, for the purpose, he said, of settling my
stomach. They surely did. Jack told me that my
team was hitched up outside and ready to start. I
thought him one of the best fellows I had ever met.
"Now," said Jack, "you are to take this load of
canned goods to Mr. Deere, a trader on White River,
two hundred miles north of here. This," he added,
handing me a piece of paper, on which was written
the miles, camps, rivers, etc., of the road, "is a
memorandum of stopping and camping places." Off
I started, all alone — ^no gun or other means of pro
tection, only food for the mules and myself. I made
my noon and night camps without any trouble, cooked
my supper and staked out the mules, after which I
rolled up in my blankets and slept like a log for the
remainder of the night.
Next morning I missed the mules, and later found
that they had pulled up their stakes and started back
home. Immediately after breakfast, I went back
after them and found them at the spring where I had
camped the noon of the preceding day. Catching one
and mounting him, I drove the other three back to
my wagon, arriving there about sundown. There,
standing by my wagon, and with his back to the fire,
was a sure-enough, real, live Indian — flaming colors,
blanket, moccasins and aU. He was the genuine
article; the flrst real wild Indian I had ever seen. He
was a Sioux.
"How, how !" was his salutation, as I walked up to
the wagon.
"How are you?" I repUed. Whereupon he made
signs indicating that he wanted me to cook him some
supper, which I did. I performed aU the work, he
making no move to help me. When supper was over
he went up on a knoU and remained there until dark,
after which he returned and got into bed with me.

HARD KNOCKS Page 78
As I was all alone, I was certainly glad I met the
Sioux and hoped he would continue the journey with
me. We talked together for some time, but neither
one could make the other understand, and we finally
gave it up as a bad job.
He was up before me in the morning, and back on
that knoU, where he remained until breakfast was
ready. When the meal had been prepared, he came
down and ate with me, after which he went back again
and took his station on the knoll. "You are a whole
lot of help to me, you are, you big, lazy loafer," was
my mental comment.
Presently I hitched up and started, when, much to
my delight, he crawled up onto the wagon, as though
intending to accompany me on my journey. He then
began making signs which I interpreted as wanting to
know whether or not I had a gun in the wagon. I
shook my head, at which he seemed much surprised,
and inclined to doubt my word. He then began to
search the wagon, all the while making signs about the
gun. After my repeated efforts to convince him, he
seemed satisfied that I was telUng the truth and lay
down in the wagon.
That night we camped again, he, as usual, going
out on a high point for a while. FinaUy coming in
and sleeping with me again. This program was re
peated every day for five days. Just before sundown
of the sixth evening, we were stopped by about fifty
or sixty of the wildest looking Indians I ever saw,
many of whom had not enough clothing on to flag
a handcar. My Indian friend, who was in the wagon
with me, began to talk Sioux to them in an excited
manner, but, of course, I had not the remotest idea
what they were talking about. In a few moments
they left suddenly, after which my companion
motioned excitedly for me to go on. This I was loath
to do, as we were about to go into camp for the night,

Page 79 HARDKNOCKS
but he kept making signs for me to hurry on, at the
same time putting his hand on my head, strongly
suggesting the scalp act.
I thought the heathen had gone crazy. In a
minute or two he blurted out, "Pawnee heap shoot!"
But still I was simpleton enough not to know what
he meant. However, I started on and he kept me
moving until midnight. I was very much frightened
by his actions, as I hadn't the slightest idea why he
was so excited. When the night was half gone, a
number of camp fires loomed up in the distance ahead,
at which my Indian friend seemed much relieved. He
then left me suddenly, without any ceremony. Seeing
a haystack, I pulled up to it, where I unhitched my
tired and hungry mules, after which I then turned in
for a little sleep.
The first thing I heard the next morning was a
white man saying, "young feller, if you don't watch
your harness pretty sharp, you won't have a strap
left when these Indians get around you. They will
steal every inch of it." I stared about me in sur
prise, and to my astonishment saw a great many
Indian lodges and hundreds of Indians, including
squaws and papooses. "Is this Deere's Trading Post?"
I asked. "Yes," was the reply, "this is Deere's Trading
Post, for the Sioux Indians, at the Red Cloud Agency.
Who are you, and where are you from, and how did
you get here?" On being informed that I had come
from Cuney & Coffee's ranch, he manifested great
surprise. "Where are the other teams ?" he asked.
"There are no other teams that I know of," was
my reply.
"Do you mean to tell me that you came alone
from the ranch of Cuney & Coffee to this place?"
he interrogated.

HARD KNOCKS Page 80
"Certainly; my only companion was an Indian
whom I picked up on the road, and who has just left
me, or rather, when I got in here last night."
"Come with me," he said. And he took me into
Deer's store near by. "Deere, here is a tenderfoot
who came all alone from Cuney & Coffee's ranch with
your load of canned goods."
"Great Caesar!" exclaimed Deere. "Haven't you
a gun?" "No," I repUed.
"WeU," was the rejoiner, "they certainly played
you a dirty trick sending you here all alone, and the
only thing that saved you was having that Indian
with you, whom you picked up." Still, I could not
understand how the Indian had figured in my safety.
The men around the camp tried all day to find the
Indian who rode with me, but did not succeed in doing
so. I was quite favorably impressed with Red Cloud
Agency. It was in its infancy but beginning to assume
large proportions. The surroundings were novel to
me and I quickly came to the conclusion that if I
could secure work here, I would much prefer it to
my present job with Cuney & Coffee. Accordingly,
I asked Dr. Seville, who was the agent, if he could
use me as a laborer. He replied, "Yes, but you must
first return Cuney & Coffee's team to them." I lost
little time in preparing for my journey back to Fort
Laramie and was taken by surprise when Ben Tib-
betts, the man who had awakened me upon my
arrival, asked me where I was going. I told him and
he replied: "You fool. Don't you know that by going
alone you would never reach the ranch? Wait here
my boy; there are other teams going very soon and
the men will not only be company for you, but pro
tection too." He also loaned me a six-shooter, which
I was to return to him when I got back to the Agency.

Page 81 HARDKNOCKS
After waiting a few days, I left in company with
eight other teams, two of which belonged to the
Agency and one to a Mr. Jones, who had lived among
the Sioux for years and who was well acquainted
with their habits and mode of life. The first night
out we camped in some high willows on the bank of
a stream called "Running Water." After eating
supper we were sitting around the campfire, when
suddenly the willows began to crash, and much to
our surprise fifty mounted Indians appeared on the
scene. My first thought was to jump away from the
campfire. This I did. In doing so, I drew my six-
shooter and when I came to my senses, as I had been
badly frightened, I was pointing my six-shooter at an
Indian who was mounted, but I had neglected to pull
the trigger. I am glad I did not shoot, as we soon
ascertained that they did not intend to harm us. Mr.
Jones spoke to them in Sioux and was told that they
were acting as an escort to Joe Bessnet, a half-breed,
who was carrying the Government mail to the agency.
In a Uttle while Bessnet showed up, accompanied by
more Indians. They then took supper and went their
way, singing one of their war songs.
In our party was a young man named Spencer,
who had been continually boasting of his bravery.
After the Indians were gone Spencer was missing,
and Jones and I went over in the direction of the
river to search for him. We found he had secreted
himself on a small island in the river and was badly
frightened. He had waded almost up to his waist in
the water to reach the island. For a long while he
refused to leave the island and come back to the
camp. Jones finally convinced him that there was
no danger and he waded to the bank, a pitiful looking
sight. Poor fellow, we joked him unmercifuHy the
remainder of the trip. However, had the Indians
intended doing us any harm, he might have been the
only one to escape.

HARD KNOCKS Page 82
Before leaving, Tibbetts instructed me to remain
at Fort Laramie and when there was a position at the
Agency he would send me word by the agency team
sters. I got back to Fort Laramie in good shape and
turned the team over to Cuney & Coffee and was paid
off at the rate of forty dollars a month. It was then
that I learned why Bowman, the barkeeper, was so
liberal with his whiskey. And I also learned that
Mr. Cuney had offered as high as two hundred and
fifty dollars to the man who would take that load
of canned goods to Deere's store. Old timers living
in that country and knowing the dangers, would not
attempt the trip even at that price. Bowman's object
in supplying me with whiskey, keeping me out of sight
and starting me off so early in the morning, was for
the purpose of not having me meet these old timers,
who would in all probability have warned me of the
danger of the undertaking.
I then procured a position, driving a six-mule team
for the Government at Fort Laramie. Here I remained
until November, 1873.

Page 83 HARDKNOCKS

CHAPTER X.
HISTORIC HAPPENINGS AT AND AROUND FORT LARA
MIE PRIOR TO AND DURING MY TIME THERE-
CUSTOMS AND HABITS OF ARMY OFFICERS-
FRAUDS P E R P E T R A T E D— REMINISCENCES OF
EARLY SETTLERS.
I WILL here dwell briefly on the habits and actions
of the army officers, stationed at these frontier
posts. The majority of them were heavy gamblers,
hard drinkers, and at times brutal in the ex
treme. Their gambUng was with citizens who had the
hay, wood and beef contracts with the Government.
If the officers were heavy losers, which was frequently
the case, they would give their I. 0. U.'s in settle
ment, but which they never intended to pay, and the
citizen never dared to enforce payment, because, on
account of their contracts, they were to a certain
extent in the clutches of the officers. The Inspection
Board was composed of these officers, and the reader
can readUy understand the position of the citizen
contractor with the officer,
I have known many loads of hay to be hauled to
Fort Laramie, which had the night before arrival
been damped with buckets of water and many shovels
of sand to increase the weight. The sand and water
would settle through the hay during the jar of the
last day's drive. The Inspection Officer would have
it probed with an iron rod and the load accepted or
rejected, according to the friendly or unfriendly terms
with the contractor.
While I was employed at Fort Laramie as a
teamster, there was a great fraud exposed regarding
approximately three acres of cord wood. In the
changing of quartermasters, the detection of this

HARD KNOCKS Page 84
fraud came about. The new quartermaster discovered
that while the outside ricks of wood were all right,
the inside ricks in numerous cases did not exist at all.
The deception consisted of merely laying sticks across
the intervening space to each alternate rick, leaving
spaces that should have been ricks of wood ; thus the
Government had been systematicaUy robbed of many
thousands of dollars. While the matter was hushed
up, I noticed from that time on, the ricks were placed
with a space between each to prevent a similar re
occurrence. Frauds of aU descriptions were practiced at aU the
frontier posts, even the teamsters having their share
of the spoils. For instance, a teamster would have
an arrangement with the Quartermaster-Sergeant,
who had charge of the distribution of the material
used by teamsters. The teamster would cut his wagon
sheet into four parts, one of which he would take to
the sergeant for which he would receive a new wagon
sheet in place of the quarter portion; this sheet he
would sell to citizen freighters for five doUars. The
freighter would cut out the letters "U. S." and fix it
up with a patch. Of course, the sergeant received his
half of the five dollars.
This would be repeated each day until the teamster
had received four new wagon sheets for his old one.
Citizens purchased largely from Government em
ployees in this way. All articles had a standard value.
Bacon was worth twenty-five cents per pound; shelled
corn, two dollars per sack ; wall tents, fourteen dollars
each ; canned tomatoes, fifty cents per can ; beans, two
dollars per sack, etc., etc. In those days these frauds
were not looked upon as a crime. If the fraud was
discovered, the guilty ones were black-balled and
driven from the reservation.
I wiU cite one instance of brutality which is on
record at the War Department in Washington.

Page 85 HARDKNOCKS
One afternoon I was in close proximity to the
cavalry stables, when I heard a man screaming. Run
ning over there, I saw a soldier tied up by the thumbs,
and Captain Mix, of M-Company, Second Cavalry
standing close by, ordering his first sergeant and an
other soldier to pull him higher ; which they did, until
his feet were clear off the floor. The weight being so
great, the man's thumbs were pulled from the sockets.
The officer of the day, hearing the man yell, ran dovm
to him and seeing his condition ordered him lowered
down and removed to the hospital, afterward placing
Captain Mix under arrest. Later on, Mix was court-
martialed, severely reprimanded, but acquitted, his
victim having in the meantime deserted, probably
aided by some bribe from Mix. This was what was
termed, "whitewashing." However, from this very
act some benefit was derived, as the War Department
at Washington issued an order aboUshing corporal
punishment in the United States army.
I wish to impress the reader very forcibly with the
importance and usefulness of old Fort Laramie. This
post was located at the junction of the Platte and
Laramie rivers, one hundred and ten miles north of
Cheyenne, Wyoming. It was established previous to
1849. In that year there was a rush of "fortune
hunters" to California for gold, and emigrants hailed
Fort Laramie as a haven of rest. It was there they
received a warm welcome from the citizens, composed
mostly of trappers and hunters from the Hudson Bay
company; there they made aU the repairs to their
outfits, shod their horses and oxen, and there was not
then nor is there today an emigrant who has not a
word of praise and a warm spot in his heart for dear
old Fort Laramie.
I have attended reunions of pioneers in Oregon,
and it is surprising how m^hy of these old people in
telling of their trip across the plains, will mention

HARD KNOCKS Page 86
Fort Laramie. One would say, "I traded two milch
cows that I brought aU the way from Missouri, for
a pair of horses at Fort Laramie." Another would
say, "My oldest boy was born at Fort Laramie ;" an
other, "John Smith was married to Betsy Brown at
Fort Laramie," etc., etc.
This post being in the heart of the Sioux country,
the emigrants were furnished with military escorts
to remain with them until they were well beyond the
danger zone. It is a great shame that the United
States Government abandoned this post, as it should
have remained intact as a great historical center, on
the old emigrant trail. It is now owned by Jack
Hunton; most of the old buildings have been tom
down, or have gone to rack and ruin. Hunton resides
there, and I understand is now farming the ground
that was formerly the post.
This man Hunton came from Virginia and settled
in Wyoming in 1849 and has Uved there aU these
years. I met his brother, Tom, some five years ago,
who informed me that Jack was eighty years of age,
and in good health. He also told me that Jack kept
a diary of all the events occurring in that country,
and that his intention was to publish it when he
arrived at the age of ninety years. This wiU be a
very valuable book. He engaged in various pursuits,
from a pony express rider to a large government con
tractor, freighter and stock raiser. He is weU educated,
liberal to a fault and has many friends, and is
much beloved by all who know him in Wyoming.
Another character and old timer, who is stiU alive
at the ripe old age of eighty-eight, is a man by the
name of Hi Kelly. He also rode pony express in early
days, but later became the "Live Stock King" of
Wyoming, owning vast herds of cattle with unlimited
range and employing large numbers of men. He
furnished most of the beef used by the army posts

Page 87 HARDKNOCKS
and became very wealthy. Among his holdings was
a very noted ranch situated half way between Chey
enne and Fort Laramie. This was known as the
Chugwater ranch, being located on a river called Chug
water, so named by the Indians for the following
reasons :
In the early days when the buffalo were numerous,
the Indians stampeded a large herd of them, which
they headed for a bluff two hundred feet high on the
bank of this river. Thousands of the buffalo went
over the bluff, landing in the river, making a noise as
they struck the water — "Chug Chug" and thus the
name "Chugwater."
It is a matter of history that the Indians camped
at this place for three months, skinning the buffalo,
tanning their hides and drying their meat. In pass
ing there on our way to Fort Laramie, many a time
we teamsters have walked over to the river and seen
thousands of buffalo heads and many bones, which
proves that the slaughter was immense. Kelly finaUy
disposed of his holdings to a Scotch syndicate, and is
now residing in Denver, Colorado. Like many old
timers* Kelly took a Sioux squaw for his wife, white
women in those days being very scarce. Unlike the
majority of the white men, he married his squaw,
raised a large family of children, educated them all,
and they are today useful members of society. While
I am writing of this great, good man, I will cite one
instance of his wonderful loyalty to his friends.
Jack Hunton had received a Government contract
for a very large supply of beef and was warmly con
gratulated by KeUy and others, who had bid for the
same contract. Hunton, having met with financial
reverses, was in a quandry and stated his position to
Kelly, who said, "Jack, you know my range and my
cattle; take my foreman with you, and select what
you need. When you get paid for your beef, you can

HARD KNOCKS Page 88
then pay me for my cattle." This was done. No
written obligation was necessary. Hunton's word was
sufficient. How many men are there of today who
could enjoy the same trust as was reposed in Jack
Hunton? Another character was Butcher PhilUps, a soldier
at Fort Laramie, who acted as "post butcher" and
who, on his discharge from the army, engaged in the
stock business in a small way. He became very
wealthy, owning a large number of cattle. Eventually
he became a heavy beef contractor for these Govern
ment posts.
There was also a Portugese Philips, who had a
wonderful history in that country, as it was he who
carried the famous dispatch from Fort Phil Kearney
to Fort Laramie in the year 1866, announcing to the
world the great Phil Kearney massacre by the Sioux.
This massacre was headed by the great Sioux chief,
Red Cloud, and was somewhat similar to the Custer
massacre. However, it was not as disastrous as far as
numbers were concerned, there being about one hun
dred massacred.
Phil Kearney was a very isolated post, situated
about two hundred miles northwest of Fort Laramie.
One clear and very cold morning, when snow covered
the ground to the depth of six inches, the Sioux
by ruse inveigled about two-thirds of the soldiers
stationed there to attack them. The Sioux retreating,
this body of troops foolishly followed them into an
ambush, where a large body of hidden Sioux attacked
and completely annihilated them, not a man escaping.
This left the post with but few soldiers, but with
quite a number of women, wives of the officers and
soldiers. The Sioux, knowing these conditions, im
mediately surrounded the post and for two days and
nights held a great war dance, flaunting the scalps
of their victims where they could plainly be seen from

Page 89 HARDKNOCKS
the post. The commanding officer, reaUzing the great
danger, knew that their only hope for rescue was in
getting assistance from Fort Laramie, He therefore
caUed for a volunteer to run their cordon of Indians
with a dispatch,
Portugese Phillips, who was an ex-Hudson Bay
hunter and who had lived for many years among the
Sioux, having a squaw for a wife, and who at this
time was the post interpreter, volunteered to make
the attempt. Records show that at this time the
thermometer registered thirty-two degrees below
zero. Phillips prepared to start off, selecting a white
horse on account of its color being similar to the
snow and not as easily distinguished as a dark one.
He attached a sixty foot lariat to the horse, but
knowing that horses often shook themselves, making
considerable noise, if saddled, he did not use either
saddle or bridle. In taking this precaution, he avoided
attracting the attention of the Indians.
With a small supply of hard tack and dried meat in
his pockets, Portugese Phillips left the post at mid
night on his perilous journey. He crawled on his
knees, leading his horse, — he being sixty feet in ad
vance — and by daylight he had passed safely through
the Indian lines. Then mounting his horse, he carried
his dispatch to the commanding officer. His hands,
knees, and feet were badly frozen, but he refused to
remain at Fort Laramie and insisted on returning with
the troops, stating that his squaw and children were
among those in danger. He was put in an ambulance
and placed in charge of two army physicians, who
saved his limbs.
The command arrived at Fort Kearney just in the
nick of time, as the Indians were graduaUy closing in
on their victims — when seeing the large number of

HARD KNOCKS Page 90
soldiers coming to the relief of the post, they retreated
and the post was saved. Phillips, who proved himself
a great hero, lies today in an unmarked grave some
where in the vicinity of Fort Laramie, and I doubt
very much whether even if a large reward were
offered, a single man could point out his grave.
Another character at Fort Laramie during my time
was an Irishman named Pat Brophy. Years before
I knew him, he had crossed the Platte river to the
north side and was sitting on the bank fishing, when
five young Sioux bucks approached, one of them sud
denly shooting him in the abdomen. Brophy retain
ing his senses, knew that his only chance lay in his
feigning he was dead, which he did. Submitting to
being scalped by two of the Indians and after they
had disappeared, swimming across the river, he
crawled out on the south side and lay by a log aU that
afternoon and night, and was found there more dead
than alive, by two soldiers the following morning. The
soldiers immediately conveyed him to the hospital,
where he recovered from his wounds. The top of his
head from where the scalp was removed, partially
healed, but up to the time of his death was a running
materated sore. The post physicians asserted that in
all their professional experience, they had never known
of anyone recovering from such an injury. Their
opinion was that by his swimming the river and the
cold water passing through the wound, this kept the
wound clean and allayed the fever; also, that his
lying in the open air all night was beneficial to the
wound. Brophy lived in this condition for a number
of years. Imagine, if possible, dear reader, the fore
thought and nerve displayed by this Irishman under
these most trying circumstances ; when a single move,
or the batting of an eye, would have betrayed his
wonderful cunning and caused his instant death.
I wiU now close my list of the few of the many old
characters whom I knew at Fort Laramie, by describ-

Page 91 HARDKNOCKS
ing one whom I considered the greatest of them all,
from a military standpoint.
This was Ordinance-Sergeant Snyder. Snyder
came to this post when it was established, having
served in the Mexican War, He was eighty-six years
of age when I first met him in 1873, He crossed the
plains in an ox-wagon, the military using that mode
of transportation in those days. Snyder in his own
estimation, having been stationed there for so long
a time, considered himself greater than the command
ing officer, and was humored in this belief by the
officers, soldiers and citizens.
He was a disciplinarian to an extreme and to incur
his displeasure was very detrimental to one, as it was
an unwritten law that Snyder was to be universaUy
respected. He was wounded in his left thigh during
the Mexican war, which caused him to have a pro
nounced Ump when walking. He always displayed six
medals on his left breast. These had been presented
to him by the Government at various times as rewards
for deeds of valor, and he was decidedly proud of
them. When meeting Snyder, citizens as weU as
soldiers were expected to salute him in regular mil
itary style. When officers approached him, Snyder
invariably stood at attention and saluted, and woe be
to the officers who did not return the salute, for he
would immediately remind them of their miUtary
training and would always conclude his rebuff with
two loud coughs.
In addition to his duties as an Ordinance-Sergeant,
Snyder was the garrison postmaster, which he con
sidered a very responsible position. All citizens and
sodiers were compelled to go in person for their
mail to a smaU room set aside as a post office, and
unless they saluted on approaching the window, he
would motion them aside, telUng them to go and
discipline themselves. This compeUed them to take
their places at the end of the Une and again await

HARD KNOCKS Page 92
their turn. The officers' mail was delivered by him in
person, and was carried in a leather bag — which hung
by his side, showing the inscription "Officers' U. S.
Mail, Sergeant Snyder, Postmaster." His first call
was to the commanding officers' quarters, and then in
succession, according to the officer's rank, ending with
the 2nd-Lieutenant. Should any officer of lesser rank
than those already caUed on, being ignorant of the Ser
geant's custom, accost him and ask for his mail, the
sergeant would salute and tell him that he would
receive his mail at the proper time, in his turn. Army
officers occasionally did this to try the old man, but
the result was invariably the same.
In 1889, having grown very old, the Government
concluded to send him to the National Soldiers' Home.
Being informed of this, Snyder begged piteously to be
allowed to remain at Fort Laramie and be buried
there. The Government refused his request and
ordered him to leave for Cheyenne and proceed from
there by rail, to the Home. Poor Snyder obeyed,
saying, "orders are orders, and I never disobeyed one
in my life." But when they drove up with an ambu
lance drawn by four mules, the old man cried Uke
a child and stated that he had "come to that post with
an ox-team" and requested that he be allowed to
depart in a like manner. His last request was granted
and a six-ox team yoked to an old wagon was secured.
Snyder and his belongings, which consisted of many
relics of past days, were put into the wagon, preceded
by the post band — the wagon surrounded by officers,
according to their rank, and every soldier in the post
marching in the rear. Thus, the old gentleman was
escorted to the boundaries of the reservation, where
the band played a final tune and the soldiers fired a
farewell salute. A suitable escort continued with him
to Cheyenne. After arriving at the Home, he lived
but a few months. Thus ended the life of one of the

Page 93 HARDKNOCKS
greatest military characters of the early days at Fort
Laramie. One day during the summer of 1873, at about sun
down, there rode into Fort Laramie, a young girl
of about eleven years of age, astride a spotted Indian
pony. She was enveloped in an Indian blanket, and
for a time was thought to be an Indian squaw. In
dismounting, she was discovered to be a white girl.
A soldier took her to the commanding officer, but
before he had had a chance to question her, she had
fainted away from exhaustion. On being revived,
she informed him that her name was Lizze Deering
and that a party of Sioux Indians had killed her father
and mother, some miles up the Platte river, and that
a Sioux squaw had given her the pony and blanket and
directed her to ride to the post.
The commanding officer immediately ordered a
company of cavalry to find the spot, and also gave
orders for an ambulance to be sent along to bring
the bodies. I was commissioned to drive the am
bulance. We started off that night and the next
morning found the wagon minus the horses. In the
wagon was an old man killed and scalped. With her
hands tied to the rear wheels and her feet tied to
stakes driven in the ground, we found a middle-aged
woman. The Indians had abused her unspeakably,
and in addition had removed the tongue bolt from
the wagon, heated it red hot and forced it through
the poor woman's abdomen, the same coming out
above her left hip. The officer in charge made notes
of the existing conditions, ordered the bodies removed
to the ambulance, and trailing the wagon behind, we
returned to Fort Laramie. The young girl in the
meantime, had told the foUowing story:
They had been traveling along the river bank,
slowly; her father sitting in front driving the team,
and she and her mother sitting back of him covered
by the wagon sheet. Suddenly, a shot was heard

HARD KNOCKS Page 94
which killed her father. Immediately three young
buck Indians jumped up in the front of the wagon,
she and her mother quickly jumping out from the
rear. They were at once seized by three other Indians,
and tying the girl to a cottonwood tree and the mother
as previously described, they commenced their ill-
treatment of the elder woman and thus subjected the
young girl to witness the horrible torture of her
mother. Suddenly, there appeared a young squaw, who
compeUed the Indians to release her. "The squaw
ordered the Indians away, and after taking the horses
and aU articles of value, they left. Quieting the child,
the squaw gave her the pony and blanket and started
her for the post. This was the first known instance
of the kind that had ever occurred among the Sioux,
as the squaws were generally known to be more vicious
with a white person, and particularly with one of their
own sex.
No one in that country could understand the
squaw's reason for treating the young girl so kindly.
Later on, the commanding officer, on inquiry through
the post interpreter who was a squaw-man, learned
that this young Indian girl was the daughter of a
chief and that she had used her power to compel these
young bucks to release this girl, but no one knows to
this day what prompted her to do so. It is possible
that the post interpreter's squaw knew, but if she
did, she never made it known. Perhaps it was sisterly
instinct, or perhaps an act of the Supreme Being,
that made her deviate from the cruel Indian custom
and perform an act of mercy.
The Deering family were from Pike county, Mis
souri, and their destination was Oregon. This young
girl remained in Fort Laramie for some time, but was
finaUy located by her uncle, who took her back to
Missouri.

Page 95 HARDKNOCKS
During the conversation with Tom Hunton some
years ago, I alluded to this massacre. He told me
that on the very spot where that wagon stood, a stone
monument had been erected by the women of Wy
oming, with an appropriate inscription of the details
of the massacre. In addition to this, they also pre
sented to the Chief's daughter, who is now an old
woman, living at Pine Ridge Agency, a medal made
from gold mined in Wyoming. On one side of the
medal is an engraving of the wagon and on the re
verse side, suitable words of explanation. Tom also
informed me that she valued the medal very highly
and wears it continuaUy.
In 1867, prior to my time in Wyoming, the Gov
ernment issued to the troops at Fort Phil Kearney,
a breech-loading gun, called the Spencer carbine, the
first of the kind used in that particular part of the
country. They being out of wood at the post, the
commanding officer detailed twenty-five six-mule
teams to haul a fresh supply. The wood was at a
point twenty miles distant from the post. He also
furnished an escort of fifty infantry soldiers, as the
Sioux were very dangerous, having the year pre
viously committed a massacre at that post. The In
dians knew nothing of these repeating guns, and the
officer in charge of the escort was well aware of
this fact.
The teams had not proceeded far on their mission
when they were attacked by a large body of Sioux.
The officer corraled the teams and instructed the men
not to fire until they could see the white of the In
dians' eyes and when he gave the order to fire, to
pump it in fast. The Indians were in the habit of
forcing fire, and then charging, thinking the troops
were armed with the old muzzle-loading guns. FinaUy
the officer gave the command to fire. After the first
volley, the Indians charged in a body; and such a

HARD KNOCKS Page 96
surprise they received, resulting in some eighty being
killed, which taught them a lesson for future con
sideration. Prior to making this attack, they had
stationed their squaws and families on a high hill,
expecting to witness another Phil Kearney massacre;
but after receiving this warm reception, they and their
squaws made a very hasty retreat — less in number,
but wiser in experience. And for many years these
Indians had a great horror of the "foot soldiers" — as
they termed the infantry.

Page 97 HARDKNOCKS

CHAPTER XL
GREAT POWER INVESTED IN COMMANDING OFFICERS
OF THE FRONTIER POSTS— LIEUTENANT ROBINSON
KILLED BY INDIANS— A NUT FOR SCIENTISTS TO
CRACK— THE BARREN SPOT ON THE PRAIRIE-
AMUSING INCIDENTS.
I WISH to give the reader an idea of the power
assumed by the commanding officers of the var
ious frontier posts, and would ask the reader
that he kindly bear in mind that these posts were
situated a long way from civilization.
The commanding officers had the power to do any
thing they chose to either a soldier or a citizen. The
latter they seemed to disUke very much, and in many
cases were very severe with them. Many, like myself,
foUowing the occupation of a government teamster,
were compelled to take any insults the officers would
thrust upon them, knowing well that if they offended
the officer, he would drive them from the post and,
what was then termed, "blackball" them, and in
order to get another position, the teamster would
have to go to some other post and change his name.
I have met in my life a few old government teamsters,
who had changed their names so often that if one
should call them by their real name, they would
hesitate before responding, as they had almost for
gotten it.
In my time at Fort Laramie the commanding
officer was General Smith. He was a very severe
man and greatly disliked by both soldier and citizen.
He was quite old at the time I knew him, with gray
hair, and a large military mustache, and a goatee.
This gave him a fierce look. He always wore a
military cloak, which was lined with a bright red
material and the comer of this he would throw over

HARD KNOCKS Page 98
his left shoulder, exposing the lining, and with his
gold handled sword at his side, in his estimation he
was lord of aU he surveyed. The soldiers used to
say that if by mistake he looked kindly at one of
them, he would go to his quarters and have his orderly
tie him to a post and horsewhip him. This was what
the soldiers called "doing penance."
One day I was leading three mules with halters
on; attached to them were chain halters shanks. I
was taking the mules to the blacksmith's shop to be
shod. A government mule is very hard to lead,
especially away from the corral, and I was having a
difficult time with them. Suddenly a soldier said to
me, "General Smith wants to see you." I asked him
where. He motioned his head toward the parade
grounds — there stood General Smith. The soldier
was his orderly. I tied the mules to a nearby post
and walked up to "His Majesty." He asked me where
I was going with those mules. I told him to the
blacksmith's shop. He grunted, turned his head and
walked away. He never knew what passed through
my mind. I returned to my mules and completed ray
journey. The gala day in these isolated posts once a month,
was "dress parade." All soldiers turned out, including
the band. They arranged seats on the edge of the
parade grounds for the officers' wives and visiting
friends. Citizens employees also attended, but they
were supposed to take up their position on the opposite
side of the parade ground. The soldiers marched
around, the band played martial airs, led by "His
Majesty" the General. When this was over, the
officers and their wives, and visiting friends, would
parade arm in arm, praising and criticising.
I had a teamster friend whom I bunked with
whUe at the post, our sleeping quarters being en
closed by a corral, on the opposite side from where the

Page 99 HARDKNOCKS
mules were stabled. This boy's name was Charley
O'Brien. He was a very wild young fellow and
absolutely fearless. We had had a pay day about
this time, and he and I went up the river one after
noon to a ranch where they sold whiskey and where
they also had three or four girls with whom we could
dance. There were many of these ranches in the
vicinity of the post and they were called "Hog
Ranches." Why so called, I could not say, as I never
saw any hogs around them, but think that perhaps
it had reference to the girls as they were a very low,
tough set.
We stayed there that night until about ten o'clock,
returning to the post pretty weU filled up with "bug
juice," commonly caUed whiskey. In crossing the
corral, O'Brien remarked:
"Tomorrow is dress parade!"
General Smith had a very fine horse which he rode
at these parades. To take care of this horse, he had
a soldier detailed and whom the soldiers termed "dog
robber." All officers had soldier servants and they
were all known by the same name. Why this was
given them, I am unable to state. However, O'Brien
suggested that we go to the stable in the comer of
the corrall where this horse was and together shave
his tail. At first I refused, but O'Brien explained to
my satisfaction that General Smith would blame the
"dog-robber" or some other soldier, and never would
suspect a citizen. I finaUy agreed, and getting a candle
and shears, we started off to the stable, I holding the
candle while O'Brien cUpped the hair from the horse's
taU. The poor horse, not having had this kind of
treatment before, could not understand it. He would
turn his head around, looking first at one and then
the other, and I really felt sorry for him. However,
we finished the job and lo, and behold! such a change
in a horse, you can't imagine. His tail, whUe larger

HARD KNOCKS Page 100
than a rat's, looked very similar to one. We gathered
up the hair the best we could, hiding it in a pile of
manure. We then went to our bunk.
Teamsters were compelled to rise early in the
morning. But O'Brien and I, not feeling very well,
remained in bed longer than the balance. We were
finaUy awakened by a loud noise in the corral. Dress
ing ourselves hurriedly, we went out to the corral.
There we found the "dog robber" with aU the team
sters standing around him. He was waving his hands
in the air and moaning like a man in great pain.
"My God," he was saying, "the General wUl kill
me when hears of this."
O'Brien, stepping up to him said : "My good man,
go at once and report this before the soldier escapes
who committed this dastardly act."
But the poor fellow was afraid to do so. O'Brien
then told him he would go up with him. This quieted
him, and together they went to General Smith's quar
ters, O'Brien making the report. The General imme
diately came dovsTi to the corral, looked at the horse,
and turning around to O'Brien, said : "My man, I will
give you five hundred dollars if you will find the sol
dier or soldiers who committed this act."
O'Brien bowed respectfuUy and told the General he
would try his best to earn the reward. Tne expres
sion on the General's face was a sight never to be for
gotten. His face was naturaUy red, but in his great
anger it turned a bluish cast. He coughed a few times
and throwing his head erect, strutted back to his quar
ters, the maddest man in Fort Laramie. There was
no dress parade that day. About an hour after Gen
eral Smith had left, the horse was taken away,— to
where I cannot say, for no one ever saw him again
at Fort Laramie in my time.
In 1892 I was employed to manage a transfer com
pany in Tacoma, Washington. After taking charge

Page 101 HARDKNOCKS
and in looking over the books, we found a great many
old unpaid bills. I suggested to the president of the
company, "Woody Sprague," that we employ a young
man who had the ability to collect these old bills, also
suggesting that we pay him a liberal commission. He
agreed with me and we inserted an advertisement in
the daily paper. Six persons answered the advertise
ment. The matter being in my hands, I interviewed
these applicants, and finaUy selected a young man
whom, in my judgment, I thought the best fitted for
the position. His name was L. Smith.
After Smith had been working there for about
two weeks, he happened to hear me mention "Fort
Laramie," and asked me if I had ever lived there. I
told him yes, and that I used to drive a six-mule team
at that post. He then informed me that he was born
there. "Why!" I said, "you are the son of General Smith
then, aren't you?"
He repUed, "Yes, did you know my father?"
I told him I did and asked him where his father
was, and if alive.
"Why, yes," he answered. "He is living here on the
retired list."
He also said that when he went home that night
he would tell his father, adding, that if his father felt
weU enough, he would bring him down to see me.
I made no reply to this, weU knowing that if the
General was as he used to be, he would not come; but
to my great surprise, the following afternoon at about
three o'clock in walked the young man with his father.
The General still wore his military cloak with one
side thrown over his shoulder, and did not look a day
older than he did at Fort Laramie. The young man
introduced us. The General did not shake hands or

HARD KNOCKS Page 102
bow, but said: "My son informs me that you were
at Fort Laramie during the time I was in command
there?"
"I replied, "Yes, sir."
He coughed once or twice, saying: "I am always
pleased to meet anyone who has lived at Fort
Laramie." Looking around, he then remarked, "This
is quite a concern!" referring to the transfer busi
ness. Without further comment, he left the office,
his son accompanying him. This ended our meeting.
The following morning I asked his son what his
father thought of the "ex-mule-skinner," and if in his
lifetime he had ever heard his father speak of the
"tail-shaving" incident. He looked at me for a mo
ment and then said, "No ; but I have heard my mother
mention it, but she has warned us never to discuss
the matter in father's presence, which we never do."
He then went on : "If you will not be offended I
will answer your questions regarding what my father
thinks of you."
I assured him I would not.
He then told me that his father had said, "That
feUow looks all right; but I never knew him at Fort
Laramie, as I always detested teamsters," and advised
him not to become too famiUar with me, as his past
experience had taught him that teamsters were a d —
bad set.
I then told him to tell his mother, and through
her his father, that if that five hundred dollar reward
still stood good, I was sure I could produce one of the
men who helped shave the horse's tail.
The boy laughed and said, "I would not approach
father on the subject again if you were to present
me with a thousand dollars, as it would greatly annoy
my mother, and am sure it would hasten my father's

Page 103 HARDKNOCKS
death," and I judged from his remark that it was a
forbidden subject in their family. The young man
continued in our employ until I quit the transfer com
pany. His father, I heard, died four years later.
In the year 1870 the Government installed a port
able sawmiU at a point named Harney's Peak, forty
miles north of Fort Laramie, their intention being to
manufacture lumber to be used at the Fort. The In
dians became very troublesome, however, and the Gov
ernment was forced to remove the machinery to Fort
Laramie and there erect the sawmiU. In the early
spring of 1873 they detailed twenty-five teams to
transport some of the logs, I being one of the team
sters. We had an infantry escort commanded by Lieu
tenant Robinson. On returning from this trip, Rob
inson took with him his first sergeant and his orderly.
AU three were mounted. Leaving the teams early in
the morning, he told the wagonmaster that he would
meet us in camp about four o'clock in the afternoon
and that he would ride across country and kiU a deer,
the second lieutenant being left in charge of the
escort. We made camp about four o'clock and were about
to unharness the mules, when the orderly suddenly
appeared on foot and informed us that Lieutenant
Robinson and the sergeant had been kiUed by the In
dians. He very much exaggerated his story by ex
citedly saying that half of the Sioux nation were on
the war path. The lieutenant in command ordered the
boys to unload the logs, and if one ever wanted to
see soldiers work, they could surely have seen them
then. These logs that would ordinarily have taken a
fuU hour to unload were off the wagons in five min
utes. Soldiers cUmbing on the running gears of the
wagons, we started for the post. The mules seemed
to scent the danger, and in a few minutes were on a
wUd run. All was excitement.

HARD KNOCKS Page 104
I looked back once or twice from my saddle mule
and it was surely a laughable sight to see those sol
diers bouncing like rubber balls and hanging on for
dear life. Many of them dropped their guns, being
unable to hold on to the wagon and their guns as well.
What we most wanted was to get to the post, where
we arrived at midnight.
I don't know what the lieutenant reported to the
commanding officer, but I do know that I was routed
out of my blankets by the wagonmaster about four
A. M. and told to hitch up four mules to an ambulance
and report to the commanding officer, where I found
two companies of cavalry ready to start in search of
the bodies. Taking the still frightened orderly along,
we left on the gallop, finding the bodies about eight
o'clock in the morning on the bank of a stream, both
killed and scalped. On being more closely questioned,
the orderly admitted that there were but five Indians
in the party, whom we presumed were merely hunt
ing. He also stated that Lieutenant Robinson, on see
ing the Indians approach, ran off, the sergeant follow
ing. The orderly dismounting, secreted himself in the
rocks and was not molested, the Indians merely taking
his horse, but they followed Robinson and the ser
geant, killing both of them.
In the year 1869, prior to my time, the telegraph
Une between Fort Fetterman and Laramie became
grounded. They dispatched from Fort Fetterman a
sergeant and four soldiers with a six-mule team to
repair this Une. They discovered about four miles
from the post that the wire had broken loose from
the top of the telegraph pole. This pole was situated
at the head of a little canyon or wash-out. The ser
geant ordered a soldier to carry the wire up and at
tach it, the three other men staying in the wagon
with the team. While this man was up the pole, five

"^¦'

Page 105 HARDKNOCKS
young Sioux Indians crawled up this canyon, shooting
and kiUing him. The team became frightened, run
ning back to Fort Fetterman, leaving the sergeant
alone. He, seeing the Indians, also ran toward the
post. When he got about twenty steps on the north
side of the wagon road, the Indians shot him. They
then scalped and mutilated the body horribly, and it
is said, cut out his heart, and also cut his ears and
nose off. The team in the meantime having arrived
at the post, they immediately sent soldiers out to look
for the sergeant and private. Finding the sergeant
as stated, and after removing him, they drove a large
stake where his head lay, putting on this stake an old
buffalo skuU.
When I went into that country, I heard the story
many times that where that body lay, grass had never
grown after the killing, while aU around it was the
very finest of grass. This spot was situated on the
top of what was called La Bonte HiU. The first time
I went to Fetterman, several other teamsters and my
self examined this spot; in fact, aU teams or horse
men going by and knowing of this phenomenon,
always examined it. I have seen it myself twenty
times and am satisfied in my mind that this spot at
one time was a deserted ant hiU, which the elements
had flattened down.
WWle in Cheyenne, Wyoming, in 1912, I met a
great many old-timers, and in talking with them I
mentioned the incident. They aU remembered it weU.
One of them, Bob Carson, said he had visited the spot
two weeks prior to this time and that it was still
barren. Old-timers beUeved that this grass was
killed by the blood of the sergeant. I remarked that
I thought it was an old ant hill. They looked at me
a Uttle while, one of them saying: "Young, since you
have been living in large cities and meeting these d —
fool scientists, they have talked that into your head.

HARD KNOCKS Page 106
We have had four or flve of them tell us the same
thing," and to a man they stuck to the theory that
the blood had killed the grass. A year ago my old
friend. Hi Kelley, while visiting his son in Portland,
took dinner at my house. I happened to mention this
subject to him and he immediately said, "Yes, that
place is barren yet; made so by the blood of the poor
sergeant." While at Fort Laramie many amusing incidents
happened ; incidents which were so ludricous as to up
set the dignity of the company commanders, and on
various occasions that of the commanding officer.
I recall three such incidents. A recruit was sent
out to Laramie and for some days he got along very
well, but when one of the old-timers called his atten
tion to the fact that he had been eating with the mess
for some days without butter checks, he asked where
they were obtained. A soldier named Mickey Flinn
informed him that the captain always issued such as
were needed. The recruit immediately set out in
search of the captain. His blouse was unbuttoned and
his round-topped army cap sat at an angle of 40 de
grees on his head. Knocking on the door, the cap
tain, who was known as a strict disciplinarian,
appeared. "Say, cap," said the recruit, "by heck, I have got
to have some of them butter checks."
"Some what?" exploded the captain.
"Butter checks, I gad, butter checks, 'cause them
d — fools down at the cook house won't let me eat
any more until I get 'em."
The captain looked at the man and grabbing his
cap from his head, started for the company quarters,
where he met the first sergeant of the company, ask
ing him who sent this man to his quarters dressed in

Page 107 HARDKNOCKS
such an unmilitary costume, demanding butter checks.
"What does it mean?"
The recruit spoke up, saying, "The sergeant is not
the man who sent me."
The captain then asked him if he could point out
the man who did. He replied, "Yes."
They then formed the company in line, and walk
ing down looking at first one and then the other,
pointed out Flinn as the man, who denied the charge,
and calling on the other men who substantiated the
denial. The captain could retain himself no longer,
and throwing the recruit's cap on the floor, burst out
in a roar of laughter, and walking from the quarters,
turned around at the door, and in a loud voice ordered
the sergeant to give the man some butter checks.
Between the parade ground and the Platte River
were situated three very large stacks of hay, which
were quite a distance from the guard house. Around
those stacks of hay night and day was stationed a
guard, whose duty it was to walk around them. It
came a recruit's time to take this post. His hours
were from ten o'clock at night until two o'clock in the
morning. This was considered a very lonely post.
About fifty yards below the stacks was an old Indian
burying ground. The older soldiers confidentially told
this recruit that at the hour of twelve, midnight, the
spirits of these departed Indians often appeared. "They
warned him not to shoot at these spirits as it was
useless, but if any did appear, to shoot his gun in the
air and they would come to his reUef. The day pre
vious they had taken a soldier to the hospital who
had an ulcerated tooth, the pain of which made him
delirious. About midnight he walked out of the hos
pital with a bed sheet thrown over his head and shoul
ders. He wandered down by the hay stacks toward
the Platte River. This recruit, seeing him in that
garb, knew at once that he was one of the Indian

HARD KNOCKS Page 108
spirits, and as directed, shot his gun in the air, when
the corporal of the guard and two soldiers went to his
assistance. By the time they arrived there, the sup
posed spirit had disappeared. They then told the re
cruit that he was nervous and imagined he saw this
spirit. However, he insisted strongly that he was sure
he had seen one and refused to stand guard any
longer. They finally compelled him to do so.
The next morning the post surgeon in going
through the hospital, discovered that the soldier with
the ulcerated tooth was missing, and hearing of the
incident related, instructed that search be made for
him. They found him lying on his stomach on the
river bank with his head in the water, dead — presum
ably drowned.
Another recruit, hearing his companions talking
about post guard and not knowing what it meant,
asked the corporal what one did on post guard. The
corporal replied, "Don't show your ignorance before
the soldiers, as they will josh you. Go get your gun
and come with me and I will instruct you."
They walked out to the rear of the quarters, the
corporal picking up a large wagon spoke and an axe,
with which he drove the spoke in the ground, leaving
an exposure of about a foot. He then instructed the
recruit to hold his gun with both hands and balance
himself by standing on this stake with one foot, and
when he got so that he could do so, he would be pre
pared to stand post guard. The corporal then in
formed the rest of the company what he had done and
through the windows they watched this fellow for a
half hour, trying to balance himself on the stake.
Finally he gave it up, marching into the quarters,
when, of course, they all laughed at him.

Page 109 HARDKNOCKS

CHAPTER XII.
THE SLEEP OF THE JUST— IN THE PLATTE RIVER-
GOVERNMENT'S CIVILIZING OF THE SIOUX— LIGHT
ON INDIAN POLICIES— ORIGIN OF THE SIOUX IN
DIAN FUED— A DRUNKEN OFFICER AND A THIRTY-
DOLLAR COW — AN AGENCY EMPLOYEE — THE
WHITE MAN WITH THE REMARKABLE EYE— QUEER
EXPERIENCES WITH THE SIOUX— SOME OF THE
FAMOUS CHIEFS.
IN November, 1873, there arrived at Fort Laramie
two teams from Red Cloud Agency, driven by Pat
Simmons and Mike Dunn. They informed me that
I could now get a position on the Agency and that
they were on their way to Cheyenne for supplies,
and would return in seven days, and instructed me to
meet them on the south side of the Platte River, at the
lower crossing, twenty-five miles east of Fort Laramie,
as they would camp there that night. As per this
agreement I left Fort Laramie on the morning of the
seventh day and walked the entire distance, alone. The
Platte River is a very treacherous stream and full of
quicksand, but at certain places it can be crossed,
owing to a gravel bottom. These places were called
fords, the location of which it was necessary for one
to know in crossing the stream, to avoid getting into
the quicksands. Should one, in crossing unfortunately
miss the ford, there would be great danger in losing
his team and wagon. I have known instances where
they had gotten into the quicksand, barely escaping
with their own Uves or the lives of their teams, as it
was utterly impossible to get the wagons out. In one
case, a wagon entirely disappeared in forty-eight
hours. On my joumey to this crossing, owing to the sandy
road, I walked very slowly, and darkness overtook me

HARD KNOCKS Page UO
before my arrival. Becoming bewildered, I strayed
out into the sand hiUs and came to the reaUzation that
I was lost, but knowing that the Platte River lay in
a northerly direction, I started that way and finally
found it about midnight. Tired and cold and being
without blankets, I tried to find some driftwood with
which to make a fire, but the night being so dark, I
was unsuccessful. I then walked back from the river
to keep warm and stumbled onto an old cock of hay
which had been left by Government contractors, they
having left it there while cutting wild hay. I lifted
it up and crawled under it. In time my shelter be
came warm, and hungry and footsore, I fell asleep.
However, before doing so, I heard a noise that struck
me with terror, — ^the howling of wolves!
My feeUngs can better be imagined than described,
and it was only from sheer exhaustion that I fell
asleep. When I awoke, the sun was weU up in the
heavens. The teams had crossed the river and I found
that I was two miles above the ford. I took my
clothes off, tied them in a bundle on my head and
waded into that cold Platte River. I got along aU
right until near the north side, when I unfortunately
got off the ford and into the quicksand. I now found
my progress exceedingly slow and difficult. When I
tried to step ahead, my foot would be fast in the sand,
and it was only by continually plunging that I was
able to reach the shore in a very exhausted condition.
I dressed and went to a ranch kept by a squaw-man
named "Nick Jannesse." I asked him if he had seen
the Agency teams. He said yes, that they had broken
camp four hours ago. He gave me breakfast and I
started after them, catching up with them about noon
in the sand hiUs. The boys were very glad to see me,
but not more so than I was to see them. They had
thought I was not coming. We arrived at the Agency
in due time and I reported to Dr. SeviUe, who took

Page Ul HARDKNOCKS
me into his office to give me instructions as one of his
employees. To have the reader understand the situation as it
existed in the summer of 1873, I will explain on what
plan they proposed to civilize the Sioux.
The Indians at that time were in the hands of the
Interior Department of the Government, their inten
tion being to civiUze them through kindness, the mili
tary having nothing whatever to do with them. At
this time the Sioux domain comprised aU lands from
the British Northwest as far south as Wyoming and
east to Nebraska. The Platte River was the dividing
Une. Fort Laramie was the nearest post to the
Agency. Before giving my experiences while on Red Cloud
Agency, I wish to take the reader back some years
before my time. I think in the fifties or early sixties,
a certain officer in Fort Laramie owned a cow worth
thirty doUars. This cow by some means strayed
across the Platte River, where there was a large camp
of Sioux Indians. One of the Indians killed this cow.
The officer who owned it, took a few soldies over to
the Indian camp and demanded from the chief the
Indian who killed the cow. This officer was drunk at
the time. His demand was met with refusal, where
upon he shot the chief, killing him. Prior to this time
the Indians were friendly with the whites. They
would steal their horses but were not in open war, as
was the case after this occurrence. I cannot recall
this officer's name or the name of the chief killed,
but doubtless their names as well as the circumstances
can be found on record in the War Department at
Washington. A few days after this incident a company of sol
diers were on the south side of the Platte, about
twenty-five miles below Fort Laramie. They were not
aware of the trouble on account of the cow. The In-

HARD KNOCKS Page 112
dians, about one thousand in number, attacked and
killed the entire company, numbering sixty. They
were aU buried in the same grave near where they
feU, with the exception of the Ueutenant in command,
who was taken to Fort Laramie. After this it was
war to the death between Sioux and white man. It
was all caused by a drunken officer and an old thirty-
dollar cow; and many whites have lost their Uves
since then through this occurrence.
I wiU now return to the Agency. Dr. Seville, the
agent, of whom I have before made mention, came
from Sioux City, Iowa. He was a fine man and I
understand he left a large practice in Sioux City to
take this position. His salary was not large but there
were many ways for him to make money independent
of his salary. Dr. Seville explained to me how I
should act. First, I was not to carry any firearms.
I was not to resent any insults from an Indian, no
matter what he said or did to me ; I was to treat them
kindly, etc.
"Now," said SeviUe, "if you are sure you can live
up to those rules, you may go to work. Your wages
will be one hundred doUars per month and found."
I accepted his terms and became an employe of
the Agency. There were twenty-one of us employed
there, Otis Johnson being chief clerk. Others whom
I recall were Mart Gibbons, who was corral boss ; Ben
Tibbetts, agency butcher; Paddy Simmons, Mike
Dunne and Dutch Joe, teamsters. Tom Monahan was
boss carpenter; Mr. Appleton was agency farmer, and
we also had there a negro named "Alec," who later
put on a breech-clout and became a full-fledged Sioux
warrior. I often wonder what ever became of this
negro. He is worthy of mention. He was about
twenty-five years of age, perfectly built and very in
telligent. He spoke the Sioux language fluently and
was a great favorite with the tribe. He gradually

it-
Young Siou.x; Indians torturing themselves at their Sun Dance, Eed Cloud Agency, 1874. (Sketch)

Page 113 HARDKNOCKS
adopted their ways from preference, it evidently be
ing the height of his ambition to become one of them.
The first day I worked I was carrying a board on
my shoulder, when a young buck caught it by the end,
and swinging it around, knocked me down. I jumped
up and ran at him, mad as a March hare. Some one
yeUed at me, "Look out. Young! You will lose your
job if you hit him." I remembered my instructions
from the agent and stopped.
These Sioux were very mischievous and were con
tinuaUy playing tricks on us boys. We also had on
the Agency a character named Molasses Bill, this
name being given him on account of his love for
molasses. He was employed as a carpenter and had
one glass eye. One day BiU and I were on the roof
of the commissary putting on tar paper. The wind
was blowing hard as it often did, and the air was full
of fine sand, which got into Bill's eye, causing him
much annoyance. This compelled him to remove the
glass eye and wipe it off with his handkerchief. An
Indian named Grass saw the act and was much sur
prised to know that we had a white man who could
remove his eye at will. Grass motioned him down
from the building and with other Indians made him
remove the eye again. In doing so, the Indians aU set
up a great howl and thought BiU the wonder of the
age, and Bill for the next few days was kept busy
taking out and putting in that glass eye. After some
days it seemed to affect his head and he became in
sane. The agent was finaUy compelled to furnish him
with an Indian escort and send him to Fort Laramie.
I wiU here mention a few names of the chiefs and
more prominent Indians, but before doing so will ex
plain how Indians derive their names.
The Indians do not christen their children but se
lect names from some act which has attracted an older
Indian while the one named is in his infancy. For

HARD KNOCKS Page 114
instance, take the name "Man Afraid of His Horses."
This particular name was given him when a child by
some older Indian having seen him afraid of horses.
As he grew into manhood, he was called "Man Afraid
of His Horses," and while I lived on the Agency this
Indian had a grown son, and to distinguish him from
his father, he was called "Young Man Afraid of His
Horses." There was no exception to this rule and
there is no doubt that their names were derived in
this way.
"Red Cloud" was the acknowledged chief of the
Agency and the most powerful. Their power origi
nated from two causes. "Red Cloud" was a great
warrior in his early days ; while other Indians, for in
stance, "Little Wound," got his great power from
the number of his relatives. They were divided into
bands. There was "Red Cloud's" band, "Little
Wound's" band, "Man Afraid of His Horses' " band,
etc. Then again, they had great diplomats. One
was "Spotted Tail." He would be ranked in the same
order as our great James G. Blaine or Roscoe Conk
ling, and all treaties formed with other tribes or with
the United States Government, were submitted to
him before being ratified, and it was from this trait
of character that he was all-powerful.
Referring to "Little Wound" reminds me of the
night mentioned when I made my tenderfoot trip with
my Indian companion. The reason for my companion's
excitement was that "Little Wound's" band of braves
had been on a hunting expedition in the eastern part
of Wyoming, where they ran across a camp of old
men and women of the Pawnee tribe. The young
Pawnee bucks being out on the hunt and having left
the old men and women in camp, this "Little Wound's"
band killed them all, amounting to about one hundred,
and these young bucks were returning to the Agency
the night we met them on the road ; they had heard

Page 115 HARD KNOCKS
from their scouts that the Pawnee Indians were about
to attack the Sioux in retaliation for killing their old
men and women. I afterward saw them in their war
dance with those poor old folks' scalps. This I will
explain later.
Another powerful and notorious Indian was
"Sword," who was a very bad one whom we much
feared. He had been wounded in the groin by a white
man some years before, which made him hate the
white race, and knowing his hatred for the white man,
we always kept at a safe distance until we knew he
had left the Agency. He afterward died from the
wound. Another very prominent Indian, "American
Horse," and who was very friendly to the whites, had
a national reputation, having visited the Great Father
at Washington in company with other Sioux chiefs,
and where he had promised the Government that he
would use his great influence and his best endeavors
to keep the Indians from kiUing the whites, stealing
their horses, and committing other depredations,
which he did to the best of his ability. I wiU speak
of him later and show how he kept his word.
Another Indian character was "Chief Grass" of
whom I have spoken proviously. Grass could speak
EngUsh fairly well and he had a very comprehensive
brain. For instance, we built a sawmill nine miles
from the Agency with which we cut the lumber to
construct the buildings. Grass one day, with some
other Indians, wanted to see this miU in operation.
The boss sawyer of the mill was named Charley.
Charley was quite a loafer and did not keep the mill
in operation half of the time. I was delegated by the
agent to go out to this sawmiU with these Indians.
When we arrived there, the miU was not in operation.
Grass turned around to me and remarked :
"What's the matter? Mill no run."
I repUed, "Ask Charley ; he's boss man here."

HARD KNOCKS Page 116
Grass did so.
Charley replied, "I have to gum the saw."
Grass looked at him a while and said, "Me think
you no good. Too much loaf aU the time. Dam big
expense on us Indians."
Then turning to me, he said: "You good man.
You start mill up."
I had a hard time explaining to Grass that I knew
nothing about running a savraiiU. They then looked
the mill over and we returned to the Agency. Grass
called on the agent and entered a strong complaint
against Charley. After counselling some time, the
agent finally promised that he would see that the mill
was kept running in future, and this seemed to satisfy
old Grass.
Another prominent and very bad Indian was "Red
Dog." He always wore a hunting jacket made en
tirely of scalps that he himself had taken during his
lifetime. In the back of this jacket was a woman's
scalp. She in life was a white woman and a blonde.
I suppose he kiUed and scalped her in the Minnesota
massacre years prior to this time, as he took a very
active part in that affair. I could have purchased that
jacket at one time for about five dollars worth of
powder and lead, and wished in later days that I had
done so, as today it would be worth a large sum of
money.

Page 117 HARDKNOCKS

CHAPTER XIII.
MORE NOTED SIOUX CHARACTERS— SITTING BULL'S
RIGHT BOWER IN THE CUSTER MASSACRE— BEN
TIBBETT'S GOOD ADVICE— INDIANS AS BEGGARS
AND DRINKERS— RED CLOUD'S BOY— SAVED FROM
RED CLOUD'S "BAD HEART"— A HIGH-GRADE IN
DIAN FUNERAL— RED CLOUD AND HIS FINAL
HAND-WASHING.
IN the preceding chapter I mentioned a number of
prominent as weU as bad Sioux. I next recall Big
Foot, who took a big part in the Custer massacre.
He was Sitting BuU's right-hand bower in that
affair. There were also many lesser lights called
Indian soldiers.
The most popular white man on the Agency was
Ben Tibbetts. He was employed as agency butcher.
His duty was to take care of the old, discarded
squaws and men. He had lived among the Indians
for a great many years and knew a great many of
them ; spoke their language, knew their habits and had
an Indian squaw for a wife. This man took a great
interest in me and gave me some good advice regard
ing the Sioux, He told me never to give them any
thing, and that they were awful beggars. For in
stance, if one gave a Sioux fifty cents, the next day
he would want a dollar, and if refused, he became an
enemy, I took Ben's advice, only varying from it on
one occasion.
There was an old Indian named Gray Eyes, who
spoke EngUsh quite weU, and one day he told me his
papoose was awful sick and that if he could secure
some red apples he had seen at the trading store, he
knew that they would make him weU. These apples
would cost twenty-five cents. Instead of buying the

HARD KNOCKS Page 118
apples for him, as I should have done, I foolishly gave
him the money. This he proceeded to invest in a
bottle of Perry Davis' Painkiller. The next day his
squaw came and told the agent that one of the white
men had given her Indian some poison water that had
almost killed him. She was referring to the pain
killer, which he had drunk and which made him very
sick. The foUowing day Gray Eyes again appeared
and told me what an immense amount of good the red
apples had done his papoose. He wanted fifty cents
more, so that he could get a larger supply and com
pletely cure the little one. This I refused, and it re
sulted in my being called all manner of names and
losing the friendship of Gray Eyes, verifying what
Tibbetts had told me.
There were two trading stores on the Agency. One
was kept by Mr. Deere and the other by Yates &
Reshaw. Both stores carried a full supply of Jamaica
ginger, Perry Davis' Painkiller and cheap bay rum, and
the Indians bought large quantities of each. It was
their custom to adulterate this and drink it in place of
whiskey. They would take the bay rum, pour it into a
cup of water and, after skimming the oil for the sur
face, they would dring it. This often resulted in their
getting beastly drunk and finaUy the agent was forced
to prohibit the sale of the stuff at the stores. Bad
white men would bring whiskey, of the vilest kind, on
the Agency and trade it to the Indians for Buffalo
robes, blankets and horses. While under the influence
of this vile stuff, they became very quarrelsome and
dangerous to us white men employed there.
Chief Red Cloud had a favorite son about eighteen
years of age, whom he expected in time to succeed him.
Indians show a great affection for their sons, much
more so than for their daughters. No matter how bad
the boys became, they were never punished, but were
more appreciated. Red Cloud was completely wrapped

Page 119 HARDKNOCKS

up in his son and had predicted a great future for him.
The son became severely iU, which had a very depress
ing effect on Red Cloud. One day Tom Monahan and
I were at work on the stable roof, when suddenly we
heard a great deal of shooting. Looking down at Red
Cloud's camp, which was close by, we saw the Indians
in a state of great excitement, firing off their guns and
six-shooters. I remarked to Tom that Red Cloud's boy
must be dead or dying, and that we had better lose
no time in getting into safer quarters.
The shooting referred to was the last act of the
Indians before the death of one of their number, as it
was supposed to drive away the evil spirits. Quickly
sUding off the roof, Tom and I started through a hole
in the stockade fence to go across to our quarters. The
Agency quarters not being finished, we were compelled
to eat and sleep in two houses made of slabs about
fifty yards from the stockade. As we emerged we
suddenly met Red Cloud, who was naked, with the ex
ception of his breechclout and moccasins. With a knife
he had slashed his breast, arms and thighs, causing
blood to run freely down his body. He certainly pre
sented a ghastly appearance. This slashing was an in
dication of great grief and Red Cloud, with his head
bowed down, gun in hand and crying bitterly, was
indeed a pitiful object.
Indians hearts, as they termed them, became bad
through the losing of a very dear friend or relative.
When in that condition, they had the idea that they
must kill a white man to atone for their loss and make
their hearts "good again." Monahan and I lost no
time getting back through that opening and fortunately
were not seen by Red Cloud. He entered the gate of the
stockade and was met by Joe Bisnett, a half-breed, who
was the chief interpreter. Joe talked with him for
some time, telling him how sorry everyone was for
him, and added that as a great chief he should set a

HARD KNOCKS Page 120
good example for his tribe, and not attempt the injury
of a white man; that they were all his friends, sent
there by the great father at Washington for their good
and comfort. Joe finally brought his talk to a close by
suggesting to him that he accept a blanket as a peace
offering, but Red Cloud slowly shook his head and re
fused. As a last resort, Joe left him and, going to
the commissary, shortly returned with a bright red
blanket, urging Red Cloud to accept it. This had the
desired effect, and he finally nodded his head, indicating
that Joe had carried his point. Then the agent came
and sympathized with Red Cloud and told him what
good judgment he had used and how it would please
the great father at Washington. Red Cloud then re
turned to his lodge, where the body lay. Immediately,
the old squaws commenced their death cry, walking
around by the hundreds in a large circle, and giving
vent to their feelings. It was solemn and mournful in
the extreme, and no description could do it full justice.
The following day the agent sent word to Red Cloud
by Joe that he would like to talk with him at the office.
Red Cloud went and was requested to bury his son in
a box, something hitherto unknown among the Sioux.
It was urged that this new mode of burial would have
a very good effect on his tribe, and that it was in ac
cordance with the custom of the white man. At first
Red Cloud refused. It seemed hard for him to give
up the old custom of wrapping the dead in skins and
burying them by lashing them to poles, which were laid
across the high Umbs of trees. Finally, it being argued
that the new mode was another step of the Indians
toward civilization. Red Cloud consented. That night
the carpenter made the box and the scaffold, which we
hauled out the following morning to a high point about
a mile from the Agency. The agent then notified Red
Cloud aU was ready.
The funeral started, consisting of all the Indians,
male and female, children and dogs, and was a sight

L H*-^

The hanging of three desperate characters at Laramie City, Wyoming, Oct.
28. 1868. From left to right. Big Steve. Con Moyer. Ace Moyer.
(From an old Daguerrotype)

Page 121 HARDKNOCKS
never to be forgotten. The body was wrapped tightly
jin blankets and hauled on a litter to its last resting
place. Four other white men and myself put the body
in the box, the Indians placing therein a gun, a liberal
supply of ammunition, six pairs of moccasins, a spear,
bow and arrows andtwo extra breechclouts, some eagles
claws and beads. These, in the Sioux beUef , were for
his use in the happy hunting ground. Twenty head of
ponies were then driven up and the shooting of them
began. "These were also for the use of the departed.
The increased excitment caused by the shooting, buUets
and arrows flew in all directions, made us very uneasy.
Screwing the lid down tightly and raising the box on
the scaffold, Monahan remarked, "Drive for the Agency
as fast as you can." So I whipped up the mules and
made faster time than had ever been made before, the
occupants of the wagon, bouncing around like rubber
balls. Driving into the stockade, we closed the gates and
for two hours Ustened in terror to the Sioux shooting
and crying as though bedlam had let loose. The agent
was very much alarmed and we aU thought our last
day had come. GraduaUy the uproar subsided and
normal conditions prevailed once more. Some idea of
the size of the funeral procession may be formed from
the fact that there were fuUy five thousand in attend
ance. That evening about dark, we again heard the
mournful cry of the squaws. Looking out, we saw
large numbers of them walking in single file. They had
provisions with them, carried in large receptacles,
which they were taking to deposit at the foot of the
scaffold. This performance was kept up for ten days.
Each moming the provisions were gone, having been
eaten by wolves. These provisions were supposed to
last the dead 'tiU he should reach the rendezvous of the
buffalo, after which they would not be needed.
The morning after the funeral. Red Cloud began the
old Indian custom of distributing gifts among his tribe.

HARD KNOCKS Page 122
This was a strong trait of the Indian character. The
greater the man and the greater his grief, the more
was expected of him. These gifts consisted of horses,
blankets, lodges and articles of every conceivable
nature, owned by the chief; nothing being reserved.
The object of the crying squaws will now be readily
understood. They were to share with others the gen
erosity of their chief, and they considered their antics
necessary to that end. I am inclined to think that these
gifts were given only for effect and afterward returned,
for in two weeks Red Cloud seemed to own approxi
mately as much as he had owned before. This is
merely a supposition, but I think the facts will prove
that I am very nearly correct.
In due time Red Cloud's grief (as in the case of the
white man) gradually wore off and he again resumed
his usual activities. In a few months we began to give
dances at the commissary, Thursray evenings being set
apart for this purpose. In order to get the half-breed
girls to participate (the full blood girls refused to
attend), it was necessary to treat them to a dinner!
after the dance. The agent prevailed on Red Cloud to
attend these dances, which he did, and he took to them
as a duck does to water, and enjoyed himself im
mensely. Ben Tibbetts and I took it upon ourselves to
teach him square dances, and he proved a very apt
pupil. At first naturally awkward, but he gradually
threw off all restraint and entered into the sport heart-
whole and enjoyed it as much as the balance of us. The
keen enjoyment of those evenings is never to be for
gotten. Finally the half-breed boys began coming and
raised such havoc with the dinners, for they had ab
normal appetites, that we were forced to discontinue
by orders from the agent.
Back in the year 1866, Red Cloud had been a prom
inent leader in the Fort Phil Kearney massacre. Some
years after that occurence, he came into Fort Laramie,

Page 123 HARDKNOCKS
called on General Smith, who was in command there,
and asked him for a basin of water. Much surprised,
Smith asked him what he wanted it for. His reply was
"To wash the white man's blood from my hands, for I
have been up to my arm pits in it." He had reference
to the massacre. Smith granted his request, and after
washing his hands and arms. Red Cloud promised he
would never harm a white man. From that time until
his death, he always kept his word, but although he
instructed his tribe to do Ukewise, they were hard to
control and occasionally trouble resulted.
While visiting Laramie City, on the line of the
Union Pacific Railway, in 1912, I met there my old
friend, N. K. BosweU. He informed me that the town
of Laramie City was located in 1868, and was the
next terminus after Cheyenne. The founders of this
town were Ace and Con Moyer. They appointed them
selves to the foUowing offices: Ace, justice of the
peace, and Con, marshal. They then appointed a man
named Big Ned as assistant to Con. Ace then opened
a saloon with a large room in the rear which was used
as the justice office. A great many murders were
committed in this room. The saloon was the rendes-
vous for railroad laborers. When they were paid
their wages they would play against Ace's saloon.
If at night they had any money left, they were taken
into this room and knocked on the head with an iron
bar, and later put in a wagon by Big Steve, hauled
two miles from the town, and dumped in a deep, dry
gulch, where the wolves would devour them. So many
disappeared that the saloon was called the "Bucket of
Blood." FinaUy the citizens became aroused and under
the lead of N. K. Boswell, organized themselves into
a vigilance committee. One night Ace, Con and Big
Steven were rounded up and taken to a partly com
pleted log house, and hanged there by adjusting the
rope around their necks, standing them on boxes, and

HARD KNOCKS Page 124
pushing them of into eternity. Thus ended the ca
reers of three bad men. Big Steve requested that his
shoes be removed before hanging, as his mother had
always said he would die with his shoes on, and he
wanted to fool her. The request was granted. Note
in the illustration his shoes on the ground. This pic
ture is from an old daguerrotype loaned me by Mr.
Boswell, who is stiU living in Laramie, hale and hearty
at the age of 87.
To give the reader some idea of the duties and
determination of this man Boswell, as a deputy U. S.
marshal, I will relate one circumstance told me by an
old-time banker of Laramie City. A very bad char
acter in that country had committed an offense
against the U. S. government and the chief marshal,
Jeff Carr, sent for Boswell and instructed him to fol
low and arrest this man, if he had to kiU him. If
killed, to bring in some evidence of his death. Bos
weU took the fellow's trail, both being mounted and
armed. They were known to be two of the best rifle
shots in Wyoming. The criminal was heading for the
notorious Jackson Hole in northwestern Wyoming.
Boswell knew if he reached there that his chance for
capturing the criminal was lost, as no one was ever
arrested in that almost unknown, mountainous and
wild country. BosweU was well mounted and gained
on his quarry rapidly. On the fourth day he was six
hours behind him at a ranch kept by a Canadian
Frenchman, a friend of BosweU's. On questioning this
man, he told Boswell that his man slept in his ranch
that night, and had left two hours previous to Bos
weU's arrival. Boswell changed horses and proceeded
on his way. The Frenchman wanted to accompany
him. BosweU informed him that having his family
to care for, he had better remain at his ranch. After
Boswell left, "Frenchy," knowing how desperate the
criminal was, saddled his horse and cutting the corners

Page 125 HARDKNOCKS
across country, managed to get in advance of the
hunted. Finally Boswell discovered his man. The
man also saw Boswell. They both dismounted, getting
behind rocks for shelter. It was now a battle of wits.
Boswell resorted to the old trick of putting his hat
on a stick and putting it in sight in hopes of drawing
the other's fire. But the trick did not work. Pres
ently BosweU heard a gun shot, and was surprised
that it came from the north. He was amazed to see
a man in the distance, mounted, waving his hat to
him to come on. After some time, he reaUzed that it
was his friend "Frenchy." Cautiously going to him,
he was informed that he had shot the criminal through
the head. Both going over to the spot, found it to be a
fact. It being too far to take the body to Cheyenne,
Boswell decapitated it and took the head to Cheyenne
as evidence. Those were trying days in the West.,
and required men of nerve and steel. Boswell was of
that caliber.

HARD KNOCKS Page 126

CHAPTER XIV,
MORE BAD INDIANS— THE BAD INDIAN BOY— BEEF
CATTLE ISSUES— POWDER AND LEAD VERSUS GEW
GAWS — INDIAN COWARDICE — OLD THUNDER'S
TOSS-UP— SIOUX ENUMERATION— THE PUPPY DOG
FEAST AND WHAT IT ACCOMPLISHED.
IT would take a long time to enumerate aU of the
bad Indians and boys. An Indian named "Bad
Hand" — the name given on account of a defective
hand, had a son about ten years old. One day near
noon-time, as we were going to dinner in the slab-
house heretofore referred to, the stockade not yet
being finished, this boy slipped up behind an old man
named Evans, a carpenter, and with an arrow from a
small bow, shot him in the back, just below the
shoulder blade, the arrow penetrating his back about
six inches. I was a few steps behind the boy when he
shot. Evans feU, badly hurt. The arrow shaft stick
ing from his back about eight inches. After the
shooting this boy ran away laughing and the Indians,
young and old, made great fun of it. I want to
mentioned here that the Sioux Indians encourage their
boys in everything that was bad, and taught them
from infancy to hate the white man. I have seen
little children unable to walk grin at a white man in
a hideous way, showing their intense hatred while yet
unable to talk.
We carried Evans into the bunk house and in
trying to pull the arrow out, pulled the shaft out of
the point, which was made of hoop iron. We had no
doctor there at the time, and it was a question how to
extract this point. Monahan, using his knife, cut into
the flesh, then taking a pair of nippers, he extracted
the point, old Evans howling for mercy. The Indians
remarked that he was not brave. We fixed the old

Page 127 HARDKNOCKS
man up the best we could and shipped him down to
Fort Laramie, where he died from the wound. Bad
Hand praised his boy for the deed ahd called him a
great brave and thus the matter ended.
After being on the Agency for some time, I was
given charge of the cattle herd. At this particular
time we issued to the Sioux one thousand head of
cattle per month, five hundred on the first and five
hundred on the fifteenth. Leaving the agency on the
twenty-fifth, my duty was to ride forty-five miles to
the beef contractor's range. With me there was one
white man and twenty Indians. On arriving at the
range, I gave to Mr. Bozler, who had the cattle con
tract, an order issued by the agent for one thousand
head. On receiving the cattle, I receipted for them
and drove them toward the agency about twenty
miles. Early the following morning, we would com
plete the drive to the agency. The object of having
those Indians with me was to protect the cattle from
northern Indians who did not belong on the agency.
Without this protection they would rush into the
herd, selecting cows which were with calf, as an un
born calf, either cow or buffalo, was a great delicacy
with the Sioux.
On arriving at the agency, we would rest the cattle
up until the first and then make the issue. We drove
them into a large corral, two mounted men accompany
ing them. As an exit, we built a gate large enough
for a steer to go through. Over the top of this gate
was a wide plank on which I stood with a long pole
with a spike in the end of it. On the prairie outside
of this corral were approximately five thousand In
dians, squaws, children and dogs. Joe Bessnet, with
the commissary clerk and the principal Indians of the
various tribes, stood on a platform near the gate. The
interpreter would call out, "Young, let out twenty
head for Red Cloud's band." I would open the gate

HARD KNOCKS Page 128
and the mounted men would force the cattle out. I
would count them and when the required number was
out, would punch the others back j\nd close the gate.
Indians belonging to Red Cloud's band would then
attack the cattle, using guns, bow and arrows, and
also spears, until they killed them aU. This was
repeated until the issue was complete, and I assure
you that this was a gala sight and a great deal of fun
was witnessed. Many of the cattle were wounded, and
the Indians, children and squaws being dressed in
gaudy colors, the wounded steers would attack them.
Then there was a scampering to get under cover, some
crawling up on the corral, others running in all
directions, children crying and Indians laughing. Then
came the squaws part. As soon as the cattle were
pronounced dead, the squaws, children and dogs
gathered around the carcass, first skinning it, then
cutting out the tongue. The buck who had killed the
animal, sat there on horse back waiting for the tail
of the hide to he handed him, with which he started
on a dead run for the trading store. There he ex
changed it for powder and lead and a few beads for the
squaws. In the meantime, the squaws were removing the
entrails. The older ones putting one of the small'/
intestines in their mouths and chewing while the
process was going on, the dogs coming in for their
share as well. They would allow nothing to go to
waste; and even now I can picture them as they
appeared at that particular time. All were as busy
as bees, chewing away, the offal continuaUy running
from the corners of their mouths. It was sickening
sight. They then cut the flesh in long strips, loading
it crosswise on their pony's backs with all they could
carry. They would then start for their permanent
camps. On arrival there they would hang this flesh
on poles with crotch sticks for uprights. This was for

i ' -a

Page 129 HARDKNOCKS
the purpose of sun-drying it. A portion of this was
handled in the following manner for future use. They
took the flesh and with large knives chopped it up
very fine, mixing with it either plums, cherries
or berries, whichever was in season, using the entire
fruit, which they pounded together, giving it the
appearance of pulp. Then they took a green bladder
and filled it with this material, tying it tightly with
a thong. When an Indian had a long journey to make, he
took with him one or two of those bladders, and it
is wonderful how long they could subsist on this
material. Again referring to issue day, I wish to cite a com
ical occurrence. Before issuing the cattle early in
the morning, Ben Tibbetts would come down to the
corral with his Winchester gun, and aU the discarded
old bucks and squaws trailing behind him, as these
were the people he had to care for. Entering the
corral, Ben would shoot down twenty head of cattle
and with a mule would drag them out on the
prairie. The squaws and old men would skin them,
remove the entrails, which became their property. He
then would have the beef hauled to the Agency, part
of it being kept for the use of the white men and the
balance issued daily to the old men and squaws.
Among these old men was an Indian named Thunder,
b^nt over with age, until his hands were not over a
foot from the ground, and when he moved he looked
as though he might be walking on four legs. This
old fellow was a hideous sight.
It was a custom when Ben would shoot a steer that
the first old Indian or squaw to get to the animal,
was entitled to the tongue. They would watch Ben
closely and when he shot and the steer f eU, they would
aU rush and many, many fights they had among one
another making claim for this tongue. Ben, in his

HARDKNOCKS Page 130
commanding way, would decide who was entitled to
the tongue, and that settled it.
Ben in one instance shot a steer and the ball must
have hit him a glancing blow. He feU aU right, and
old Thunder being close by, got there first, and with
three others was about to turn the head over to
extract the tongue, when up jumped Mr, Steer.
Thunder, being less active than the others, started for
the side of the corral. The steer seeing him, rushed
at him, throwing him with his horns up against the
fence, knocking old Thunder out. After this occur
rence they were very careful to know that a steer was
truly dead before they went near him.
At these issues the very young children came in
for their fun ; while we were issuing the cattle, they
would shoot arrows from their small bows into them.
The steer hit, would, of course, bellow, which would
create a great deal of laughter. They would continue
to do this as we had no power to stop them, until
toward the end those having been hit would attack
the men and horses. Then, as it was impossible for
those men mounted to stay in there, the interpreter
would tell me to let them all go. He would then
harangue the Indians, telling them that we were going
to do so, and that they belonged to those who could
kill them. They would arrange themselves on the
outside of the gate and the moment I opened it, it
would seem as if Bedlam had turned loose. I would
not attempt to describe the excitement of this scene.
This ended issue day at Red Cloud Agency,
In addition to this cattle issue, we had a commis
sary issue once a month. On this day we issued flour,
bacon, beans, coffee, sugar, molasses and com. This
was another gala day, Indians coming from aU direc
tions to participate in it. At this particular time, the
Sioux would not eat bread, or rather, would not make
it. They did not seem to understand what flour was

Page 131 HARDKNOCKS

for. They would accept the flour, the old squaws
carrying it out on the prairie, dump it in a pile, shake
the sack weU and retain it. They were particularly
fond of flour sacks,
I wish to state here that the squaws did aU the
laborious work. The greatest disgrace that could
befall an Indian was to do any kind of manual labor.
The squaws did it all. Referring again to the bread
and seeing them continuaUy dumping this flour, I
remarked to Dr. Seville, the agent, that I thought I
could teach them to use this flour for making bread.
He repUed, "I wiU let you try it on next issue day."
I did so in the following manner : I had our cook bake
up in Dutch ovens in the presence of a great many
squaws, about six pones of bread. The squaws looked
on with a great deal of curiosity at this operation.
I then got a small keg of molasses, knocking the head
in, I then broke off a large piece of bread, and dipping
it down into the molasses, I ate it. A hideous looking
old squaw stepped from the crowd and very cautiously
approached me. I dipped another piece, offered it to
her. She refused. I then took another bite of it,
smacking my lips; then dipping it again, I offered it
to her, and to my surprise she snatched it from my
hands and ate it ravenously. They aU then rushed
for the bread and molasses, eating it all up, and from
that time on I never knew any flour to go to waste.
Dr. Seville received an order from the Interior
Department "to get in some manner or other a count
on the number of Indians on the agency. I v/ish the
reader to bear in mind that this agency was two
hundred miles from civiUzation and that there were
but twenty-one of us white men employed there, and
if a Sioux objected to anything, that ended it as far
as we were concerned.
The agent was in a great quandry how to approach
them to get this count, for at this particular time

HARD KNOCKS Page 132
he well knew that they were drawing more rations
than they were entitled to, and also knew that the
Interior Department wanted this count so as to ar
range for their future rations. The agent finally
concluded to give them a great feast to make "their
hearts good," or as we would express it, to put them in
good humor. He notified us boys to get evergreens
and decorate the immense commissary and not to tell
the Indians why we were doing so, as he wanted to
surprise them. After the decorations were complete,
he then notified the prominent chiefs that the great
father in Washington had ordered him to give them
a great feast.
One of the Indian delicacies was young pups. The
agent had the old squaws for about a week gathering
up all the pups they could, bringing them into the
agency. Ben Tibbetts took charge of the preparation
for this feast. On the day appointed he had the old
squaws build numerous fires, and using large camp
kettles, stew these pups, making many, many gallons
of it. When all was ready, the white men carried
it in tin receptacles holding about a quart, and we
acted as waiters, the old squaws dishing it out and we
white men serving it. I don't know any time that I
was as completely worn out as I was after that feast.
After they had eaten all they cared to, the agent,
through the chief interpreter, addressed them, in
forming them that the great father in Washington
wanted to know how many children he had to take
care of the next year, and asked them if they would
allow him to count them. To simplify the matter, he
figured on averaging them five to a lodge. This would
hasten the work as we would then only have to count
their lodges. When Bissnet interpreted this to them,
there was a great commotion. However, Red Cloud
and other powerful chiefs, who were seated on the
floor in front, quieted them.

Page 133 HARDKNOCKS
When order had been restored, Red Cloud rose
gradually from a sitting position and when erect he
put out his right hand with the palm toward the
North. I don't believe a finer physique than his ever
stood on two feet. He was over six feet tall, perfectly
built and was Nature's own child. He then replied
to the agent in a long speech, giving a history of the
Sioux from his childhood up to that time, stating how
they had fought their way from the far North; how
they came in to be civilized like the white man ; how
they had conquered and driven other tribes before
them; how bad white men enticed his people to buy
Uquor; how they debauched their children, stole their
lands and horses, and now cooped them up in a little
comer of their vast domain ; and now the great father
wanted to know how many there were of them left.
He then said, "Yes, we will let you count our lodges."
This pleased the agent so that he clapped his hands,
jumping around like a child with glee. Red Cloud
watched him, not saying a word until the agent
quieted down, then he continued, "but in return for
this, we want the great father to issue to each grown
Indian a Winchester gun and forty rounds of ammu
nition. The change on the agent's face was indescrib
able, for at that time the Government were thinking
seriously of disarming them, and they knew it. The
poor agent had nothing more to say. The Indians
arose, walking in single file out of the commissary,
and the agent with his interpreter retired to his
quarters. This was a case of love's labor lost, for
the lodges were never counted.

HARD KNOCKS Page 134

CHAPTER XV.
THE SIOUX LANGUAGE— RISE OF THE TOBACCO HABIT
—THE YOUNG SQUAW AND HER DOMESTIC HABITS
—COURTSHIP AND MARRIAGE— SIOUX THEORY OF
ORIGIN OF INDIANS— A SIOUX HALF-BREED'S ES
CAPE FROM CHEYENNE JAIL.
MUCH has been said and written about the
Sioux language. It is quite difficult for an
interpreter to translate English into Sioux
or Sioux into English, as the Sioux
language has few words compared with
English, and interpreting either one to the other is by
no means easy. In fact, the interpreter adds or re
tracts, to suit the occasion. For instance, if he does
not exactly understand just what the Sioux wishes
understood, he in his judgment tells what he thinks
would be satisfactory to both parties concerned, and
in doing this it creates many misunderstandings in
their future dealings. Another trait of the Sioux, if
he see anything new to him, by some action of this
object he gives it a Sioux name. As an illustration,
the first sawmill that they saw in operation they called
it a slush lush la tepee. The slush lush part of this
name was the noise made by the exhaust pipe where
the steam escaped, making the sound slush lush. Tepee
in Sioux means a house, tent or lodge, or anything one
might live in.
I have known commissioners being sent out to the
Agency by the Government to make new treaties with
the Sioux, and the interpretation through the interpre
ter was very misleading when they attempted to put
them into practical operation. This was caused as
stated above by the interpreter misquoting what the
Indian and commissioners intended, thus causing a
great deal of trouble.

Page 135 HARDKNOCKS
When I first went on the Agency, the Indian was
not a tobacco smoker. They smoked in their Indian
pipes what was called Kinna Kinick, This was made
from a red willow. With their knives they would
scrape off the red part very carefuUy, then scrape the
main part, which they dried in the sun. This caused it
to curl up similar to shavings. After it was thoroughly
dried, they chopped it up very fine and put it into a
Uttle beaded bag made of buckskin. Their pipes in
which they smoked this material were of a soft clay
that they dug from bluffs. It was of a red color. They
dried this, which made it very hard. They then, with
very crude tools, a knife being the principal one, shaped
into a pipe of various designs, and on the bowls of these
pipes they made figures, generally a deer or a bear.
They then inserted in the bowl a long stem. How they
bored the hole through this stem, I do not know. This
stem was also carved; some of them were flat and
others round. In smoking they would take two or
three draws and pass it to the Indian sitting to their
left, and keep doing so until the pipe was empty.
In due time they began the use of tobacco. They
first had the white man roU it in paper, making a cigar
ette, and they finally became very expert in making
them themselves. However, the older Indians stuck
to their pipes, but the younger ones became inveterate
cigarette smokers, and I never recoUect at any time
seeing them smoking a pipe containing tobacco.
Many of the young squaws before marriage were
very pretty and coquettish, painted and dressed up in
gaudy colors ; many of them wearing fine beaded work
and other ornaments too numerous to mention. Thus
attired they made it a practice to come around the
Agency in large numbers in the afternoons, meeting
the young bucks and exchanging signs of admiration.
They had a pecuUar mode of courtship. The young
buck who wished to marry had the courting done for
him in the foUowing manner:

HARD KNOCKS Page 136
His most intimate friend would run after and catch
a young squaw, throwing a blanket over her, which
covered them both. This was called blanketing. While
holding her in close embrace, he would tell her of all
the good traits of his friend; how rich he was in
horses, buffalo robes, etc.; how daring and brave he
was, and what a fine brave he would make for her.
During this blanketing act the prospective groom
would stand at a respective distance, arms folded,
silent and erect as a statute. (I wonder how many
white men would have cared to go through court
ship in this manner. I think they would have drawn
the line at the part the friend was to play). If she
consented to have his friend, he released her and she
ran like a deer to her lodge and father. The brave
then erected a lodge, fitting it out with the necessary
cooking utensils, and immediately began negotiations
with her father. He would lead a pony up to her
lodge and himself stand there for a Umited time. If
her father did not appear, he would bring another
pony and continue bringing ponies and robes until her
father appeared, leading her by the hand. This was a
sign that full value had been tendered for the girl.
This simple ceremony of marriage was all that was
required among the Indians. The groom and bride
would then start for his lodge in single file, the squaw
in front. She was now his beast of burden for life.
The Indians were polygamous, many of them having
as many as six wives. Oft times these wives were
jealous of each other, and it was not unusual for them
to settle their differences by engaging in desperate
fights, in which knives were freely used. On these
occasions the brave would take no part, simply looking
on with the greatest unconcern.
I have often wondered why scientists have never
investigated the origin of the Sioux. I have my own

Page 137 HARDKNOCKS
ideas, which have been growing stronger since I came
to the Pacific Coast, and am quite sure that the Sioux
originally came from the Orient, and were of Asiatic
origin. Their characteristics were very similar to
those of the Chinese in many respects. Indians, on
being questioned, have proved to have poor memories,
their childhood being the limit of their remembrance
The oldest of them have invariably conveyed the
meaning by signs that they came from the north, and
I shaU always think they originally came from China,
which might easily be conceded to, as the Behring Sea
of North America and Siberia joining China, they
could easily have landed in North America in canoes,
then becoming meat and fish eaters, they would
naturally grow more stalwart than the Chinaman.
Their features were much the same as also their
pigeon English. Their funeral ceremonies were ident
ical in form, food in large quantities being taken to
the graves for the dead and crying being one of their
common customs, the only exception being that the
Indian deposited his dead in trees.
In the spring of 1872, a young halfbreed Sioux,
named Tuscon Kessler, while under the influence of bad
whiskey, rode up to a cabin situated on the Laramie
River above Fort Laramie, and calling to the door an
old, harmless Mexican, who followed the occupation of
a wood chopper, shot and killed him. Later on he was
captured and taken to Cheyenne, where he was tried,
convicted and sentenced to be hung. About six
o'clock in the evening previous to the execution, he
made his escape. This was a very mysterious occur
rence, no one seeming to know how he escaped and it
is surmised that the death-watch, in connection with
some other official, had been paid a sum of money to
help this fellow escape.
When Kessler left the jail, he was shackled at the
feet, the chain being about six inches long. He was

HARD KNOCKS Page 138
also handcuffed. In the rear of this jail was a stable,
where the sheriff kept his coal black saddle horse,
considered the best in Wyoming. How he succeeded in
bridling this horse and getting on his bare back, no one
ever knew. If he did, he never told. Lying on his
stomach, his feet being over the loins of the horse, his
hands would naturally be over his weathers, and in this
way he could hold the bridle rein and guide the horse.
At about six thirty o'clock in the morning, he arrived
at the Platte River, which was ninety miles distant
from Cheyenne. Swimming the horse across the river,
he arrived at Nick Jennesse's ranch. Nick released his
feet and hands by breaking the shackles, and furnished
him a fresh horse on which he continued on north and
joined the Sioux Indians. This Jennessee was what
was termed a squaw man and was Uving there with a
Sioux squaw. As stated previously, any Sioux or Sioux
half-breed committing any depredation south of the
Platte River, was free if he could get to the north side
before being captured, as the sheriff or soldiers could
not follow him under existing conditions at that time.
In 1874, while I was employed on Red Cloud Agency,
I saw and talked with this feUow a great many times.
He was dressed in Indian attire completely; his face
painted in many colors, and was wearing the breech
clout, blanket and moccasins. The authorities offered
a standing reward of one thousand dollars for his
capture, dead or alive.
In 1878, a young lieutenant stationed at Camp
Robinson, came over to Red Cloud Agency in an am
bulance, accompanied by four soldiers. Kessler, with
some other Indians was sitting on the bank of the
White River, when the ambulance stopped, and an old
Indian stepped up to the officer and in his pigeon
English told him that one of the Indians was Kessler,
at the same time pointing a finger at the latter.
Kessler, always on the alert, witnessed the action and

Page 139 HARDKNOCKS
immediately started to run, the officer shot at him,
striking him in the left hip and disabling him. Before
the Indians standing around could regain their senses,
the officer caUed to the ambulance driver and throwing
Kessler in the wagon, took him to Camp Robinson,
and under a strong guard of soldiers that night,
started with him for Cheyenne, arriving there in
safety and turning him over to Jeff Carr, who was
sheriff at the time, and in a few days receiving the
reward, returned to Camp Robinson. This was a very
nervy act, and it is miraculous that he got away with
it. They then tried to get Kessler to confess as to
how he made his escape, but he was true blue and
would not do so.
In a short time Kessler was hanged and while
standing on the scaffold, the sheriff asked him if he
had any request to make. He replied,
"Yes. The white men in this country whom I
hate, yourself included, have gloated over the fact
that I would die with my boots on," and at the same
time asked the sheriff to remove them, which he did.
Kessler then said, "Let her go." They put on the
black cap, after adjusting the noose, sprung the trap
and thus ended the career of a very bad half-breed
Sioux, After the Sioux war of 1876, much was talked and
written about that famous scout, Frank Geruard,
whom I knew well. Many have the idea that he was a
Sioux Indian, This is a mistake, as I happen to know
his history, as told to me by himself.
In 1860, a lady named Mrs, Peal, the wife of an
army officer, was in Honolulu for her health. There
she made the acquaintance of the parents of this boy.
She became fascinated with the little feUow and
adopted him, bringing him with her to Fort Laramie.
Two months after her arrival the chUd was playing

HARD KNOCKS Page 140
in the rear of her quarters, when a Sioux chief named
Crazy Horse saw the child, and no one being in sight,
he threw a blanket over the youngster and rode off
with him to the north, to his camp.
This Indian was a powerful chief and becoraing
attached to the child, kept him prisoner there until
1876, when Geruard escaped and coming to Fort
Laramie, offered his services to General Crook. Crook
refused him, thinking him a Sioux Indian. Geruard
then went to General Smith, who was in command at
the post, and told him who he was. Smith immedi
ately called on General Crook, advising him to employ
Geruard, adding that he (Geruard) was very bitter
toward the Sioux, knew their habits and customs, and
also knew very much of their country. Crook ac
cepted him. Later on Miles succeeded Crook and
retained the services of Geruard and found him one of
the most valuable men in that capacity, and to this
man Geruard is due the credit of the final surrender
of the Sioux.
It is said that Geruard approached General MUes
one day, saying to him : "If you wiU follow a plan that
I give you, we can corral and kill, or force, these
fellows to surrender in thirty days. Miles asked him
how. Geruard replied, "Move your troops rapidly by
railroad" — the Northern Pacific being constructed
through Montana — "and then get Ught draft steamers
on the upper Missouri River and I wiU show you where
to station your troops." The Sioux were now re
treating north after the Custer massacre. He ex
plained to Miles that the Indians having their famiUes
with them would be compelled to travel through
certain passes in the mountains and cross rivers at
certain places, and that he knew them all. Miles
turning around, remarked, "Trash!" But in thirty
days he did just as Geruard had suggested; Miles

Page 141 HARDKNOCKS
taking the credit to himself, for what was accom
pUshed. When the advance Sioux arrived at these passes
and river fords, they found soldiers there and returned
to report the fact to their chiefs. The Indians then
reaUzed that they were corraled and the only thing
left them to do was to delegate three of their prom
inent chiefs, under a flag of truce, to make the best
terms possible with Miles. Thus terminated the
Sioux War of 1876.
The last I heard of Geruard, he was living in
obscurity on the Laramie River, some twenty miles
above Fort Laramie, old and penniless. And it is a
shame that this great government does not provide a
pension for such faithful servants.

HARD KNOCKS Page 142

CHAPTER XVI.
MORE ABOUT THE INDIANS— SIOUX WARFARE— DE
SCRIPTION OF A SIOUX WAR DANCE— THE KOO
STICK EXPLAINED— HOW SCALPING IS DONE— THE
SIOUX SUN DANCE DESCRIBED— SUN WORSHIPPERS
SELECTING THE VIRGINS— HORRIBLE TORTURE OF
YOUNG BRAVES.
I WILL describe one of the Sioux war dances,
which was held in the Agency stockade some
time after the murder of the old men and women
of the Pawnee tribe previously referred to:
The Sioux had many scalps and carried them
tied to the chin straps of their ponies' bridles or
arranged them on long spears. They were aU painted
in their war paint, all mounted, the most prominent
Indians sitting in a very large circle, and on the out
side of this circle were the squaws, children and old
men. One of these young bucks would ride his horse
into the circle, suddenly stopping. This horse had
many hand marks painted on his body, generally in
white. Many of these marks in close proximity to
the rider. This was to show what desperate en
counters he had had with the enemy; how close he
was to him. These marks meaning the enemy's hand
prints. He would then tell how he shot the enemy
and how he scalped him, at the same time pointing
to the scalp. The old Indians sitting in the circle
would applaud them ; the old and young squaws doing
likev/ise. After a number of these young bucks had gone
through this ceremony, the old squaws would start
their war cry. All the Indians present would rise to
their feet, forming a great circle. A young buck
would then place on end a spear with a scalp attached,
the old squaws • beating their tom toms, they would

Page 143 HARDKNOCKS
then begin their dance, going through all kinds of
antics, which at times were very comical. "They would
continue this for hours, until they became exhausted.
These fellows are great braggarts, for as a fact they
had no trouble in killing these poor old Pawnees.
For the benefit of the reader, I wiU explain one of
their characteristics. Every young Sioux warrior
when on murder bent, carries what is caUed a koo
stick. It is about twelve inches long. This is used for
the following purpose:
If two young Sioux would both shoot and kill an
enemy, the one getting to him first and touching him
with this koo stick gets the credit of killing him and
is entitled to his scalp. When telling of their ex
ploits, they term it counting their koos, meaning
by that the number they have killed.
All Indians wear what they term their scalp lock.
This is made at the top of the head of a space about
the size of a silver dollar. They gather the hair up
and plait it, its length being about six inches. To
this they usuaUy attach a colored feather. In scalping
the enemy, they seize the scalp lock and with the point
of their scalping knife, cut the scalp in this space
mentioned and with a sudden motion pull it from the
head. Were this victim a white man, they would
sometimes take his entire hair, then cutting it up
into three or four pieces, claim that they had killed
three or four white men, while as a fact they had
killed biit one. When they retumed to their camp,
the squaws dressed these scalps, using almost the
same process that they would in tanning a buffalo
hide. This preserves it. The young buck then attaches
it to his person and when they have their war dances,
exposes it as I have previously described.
In my time on the Agency, the Sioux were sun
worshippers and once a year, usually in the month

HARD KNOCKS Page 144
of May, they held their sun dance. The whole Sioux
nation attended this as it was a religious ceremony
with them. They were all decked out in their best bib
and tucker and were a wonderful sight to look upon.
Early in the moming before sunrise, they congre
gated on the west side of a long, high ridge, when
suddenly one of their chiefs would harangue them.
They would then lie down on their stomachs close to
the earth and as the sun appeared, they would gradu
ally rise with it, and when the sun had risen clear
of the ride, they were all standing erect. I never
could understand how they kept pace in rising with the
sun, but they did nevertheless. They would then bow
very low three times, holding their arms erect with
their palms toward the sun. Suddenly there was a
great commotion and a hideously dressed Indian,
mounted and making motions at the assembled In
dians, ten or fifteen of them would suddenly step out
in front and shoot with their guns at this fellow. He
was their great medicine man and was bullet proof.
Ben Tibbetts and I witnessed this act and after
they had quit shooting, none of the shots having
struck the object, Ben remarked, "I would Uke a
crack at that fellow with my Winchester," and I
assure you they would have to make a new medicine
man. It is a question whether they shot to kill or
not. However, the medicine man was unharmed. In
a few moments another one appeared. He passed
through the same ordeal without being injured. Then
four others appeared at intervals, all passing safely.
The next part of the ceremony was the virgin pole
scene. The Sioux kept a record each year of their
virgins. To do so the old squaws erected a large pole,
the young girls forming themselves in a line, each one
putting on an apron made of deer skin. An old squaw
then handed her a small hatchet. The young bucks
in the meantime had formed themselves in line, ex-

The death of Frank Appleton, acting agent Red Cloud Agency, 1875. The true cause of the Sioux War,
1876. (Sketch)

Page 145 HARDKNOCKS
tending, I should judge, a quarter mile, leaving a
space in the center large enough for the young girls
to pass through. One of the chiefs then gave the
order and the procession of young girls passed up the
Une to the virgin pole, each one taking her apron
with one hand by the comer, and if she was what she
represented herself to be, she cut a chip from the
virgin pole, which dropped into her apron. She then
took a position, waiting until the entire number
passed up the line.
Returning through the line to the starting point,
if the young squaw was not what she had repre
sented herself to be, a young buck, knowing so, would
expose her. She was then taken by the old squaws
and severely whipped. On the other hand, if she were
what she represented herself to be, the squaws made
a great ado over her, giving her many presents. Just
how they registered them, I do not know, but I do
know it to be a fact that they kept a complete record
of them. The next ceremony was the torture of young
bucks who wanted to become braves. The squaws
again erecting a pole, tying from it near the top long
thongs similar to our May pole. The young men then
walked out, each with a knife in his hand, some
cutting themselves on the breast just through the
skin and separating the skin from the flesh, then at
taching the thong. Others cut themselves in a like
manner in the back, inserting a thong and tying to
it a buffalo head or beef head. Then they began
dancing in a circle, puUing against the pole until they
tore the thong from the flesh. Others with the heads
attached, danced around until the thong was torn out.
The old men in the meantime both praised and crit
icised their bravery. They were then graded off as
full-fledged warriors. Those going through the great-

HARDKNOCKS Page 146
est amount of torture were pronounced great braves,
the others, merely braves.
The next ceremony was the piercing of their
children's ears. The squaws would sit down in large
circles with a piece of hide on their knee, and with
a sharp pointed knife in hand, would motion the
children to them and laying their ear on the piece of
hide, would pierce the child's ear at the top and
bottom. And it is wonderful to state that not one of
those children uttered so much as a whimper.
After going through these ceremonies, the as
sembly scattered in all directions, some runing pony
races, others gambling, others running foot races,
Indian against Indian, or an Indian against a horse.
The young bucks playing with the young squaws and
ending up with a great jollification and a feast.

Page 147 HARDKNOCKS

CHAPTER XVII.
MORE CHARACTERISTICS OF THE SIOUX— HOW THE IN
TERIOR DEPARTMENT LOST CONTROL OF THE
SIOUX— UNWRITTEN HISTORY— MURDER OF FRANK
APPLETON— ONE TEAR SHED BY RED CLOUD-
ORIGIN OF CAMP ROBINSON— THE JENNY EXPEDI
TION OR "GOLD IN THE BLACK HILLS."
IAM now drawing near the time when I left the
Agency, and wish to mention two characteristics
of the Sioux. Few readers of this book have any
idea of the origin of the heliograph. Before my
time among those people they carried on their
persons a round piece of polished silver, and when
they wanted to get into communication with others
of their kind, they would ascend a high hill and with
this piece of poUshed silver, would signal with dots
and dashes the same as used by our present tele
graphic code, this being accomplished by the reflection
of the sun. In time it would be answered by other
Indians a long distance away. Later on and during
my time among them, they substituted a piece of
looking glass and one could not find a grown Sioux
without this piece of glass on his person. In cloudy
weather they substituted for this, grass smoke. They
would build a fire on the hilltop, immediately smother
it with grass, then holding a blanket or buffalo robe
over it by the four corners until it was fiUed with
smoke. If they wished to signal a dot, they would let
out a smaU quantity of smoke. If a dash, they would
let out a larger quantity. If they wished to signal
by night, they would build a fire, covering it in the
same manner and for a dot, they would quickly expose
the fire and for a dash, a longer exposure. Their
telegraphic code may not have been so complete as
ours, but their system was certainly the same, I am

HARD KNOCKS Page 148
sure that the credit of the heliograph should be given
to General Custer, as he had a large experience with
the Indians and was conversant with their habits and
would be the most likely one to have reported this
signalling, when the War Department, by experiments,
invented the heliograph. This was used largely by our
signal corps on the plains and elsewhere prior to the
discovery of wireless telegraphy.
The Sioux, as previously mentioned, were great
braggarts and dreamers. I will cite you an instance
of this characteristic. In January, 1874, they had
very deep snows in Wyoming and Nebraska, This
made traffic difficult for freighting teams. At this
time a man named Charles Clay had the contract for
freighting the supplies to Red Cloud Agency from
Cheyenne, His transportation was by ox teams. For
about thirty days he was unabel to get through to the
Agency with these supplies. Consequently we were
completely out of everything. The Indians in the
morning would ride out on a high hiU, sitting there
until almost dark, looking to the south in hopes of
seeing these teams coming. They would come into the
Agency at night and report to the agent that they
saw heaps of teams coming. At first this was good
news to us, but in a couple of days no teams arrived.
They would then repeat the operation, bringing in the
same news. They would keep this up for several days,
and as a fact, the teams did not arrive for fifteen
days. What I wish to impress the reader with is,
that the Indian having this supply train in mind, and
not wanting to report anything but good news, really
imagined he saw the teams, and the oftener he went
on this hilltop, the more he believed he saw them.
Before they finally arrived, the Indians were com
pelled to kill their ponies and eat them.
The reader has probably read or heard of the Sioux
War of 1876. But few know the actual causes that

Page 149 HARDKNOCKS
led up to it. In the month of March, 1875, a young
man arrived on the Agency named Frank Appleton.
His father having preceded him to the Agency to
teach the Sioux how to farm and was termed "Boss
Farmer." Frank was the nephew of Dr. Seville. Upon
his arrival there he was appointed chief clerk to the
agent, Otis Johnson having retired. Before coming to
the Agency and while in Cheyenne, he broke his leg
and came to the Agency using crutches. We all liked
him very much and talked with him a great deal about
his eastern home. He was from Sioux City, Iowa.
He told us in conversation that he did not want to
come out there, but that his father and SeviUe in
sisted on his coming, and while in Cheyenne before
breaking his leg he had a dream that something
awful was going to happen, and while on the Agency
he begged his father and uncle to aUow him to return
to his home, also telling them of his dream, and they
laughed at him. Consequently, he remained.
On April 1st Dr, SeviUe went down to Spotted Tail
Agency, which was forty miles north of Red Cloud
Agency, His business there was to confer with their
agent in regard to an order from Washington to
formulate some plans to disarm the Sioux. About
three o'clock in the afternoon of this day an Indian
arrived on the Agency. He was not one of our regular
Indians, but belonged up north. He had just arrived
from the Platte River and stated that a white man
had killed his brother down there and that in re
taliation he was going to kiU one of us white men
before he went north. Joe Bessnet, the chief inter
preter, hearing this from the Indians, conversed with
the fellow. He then warned us white men not to go on
the outside of the stockade that evening for fear this
fellow might carry out his threat. This stockade
was built of lumber fourteen feet high, the lumber
being three inches thick. The entrance had two

HARDKNOCKS Page 150
large gates that swung against a center post and
when the gates were closed, they were hooked on the
inside with hooks and staples. When darkness came,
we closed the gates. During the day one of the
carpenters carelessly left a ladder on the outside. This
Indian, about two o'clock the following moming,
ascended this ladder and dropped inside the stockade,
and then unfastened the gates. Then going to Apple-
ton's sleeping quarters, which was the nearest build
ing to the gates, knocked on the door. Appleton got
up, putting on his slippers, cap and long ulster, stepped
outside and asked the Indian what he wanted. "The
Indian replied something in the Sioux language.
Appleton not understanding Sioux and knowing that
Billy Hunter, the assistant interpreter, was sleeping
in the quarters with myself, Mike Dunne and Paddy
Simmons, turned his back to the Indian and made but
a few steps toward these quarters when the Indian
shot him, using a Winchester rifle, hitting him just
under the left shoulder blade.
The report of the gun awoke us boys. We hurriedly
dressed and going out of the door, saw Appleton on
his hands and knees trying to get up. When he heard
us, he said, "Come quick, boys, I am shot." We
hurried to him and carrying him into his bedroom, he
told us that he knew he was going to die. A young
doctor had arrived on the Agency the day before, and
we woke him up, telUng him that Appleton was
severely wounded, but he was so frightened that we
could not get him out of his room. Billy Hunter then
ran down to Red Cloud's camp, which was but a short
distance away, telling him what had happened. Red
Cloud then set Indian runners to Man Afraid of His
Horses and Chief Little Wound's camp. They all three
came into the room where Frank lay, Red Cloud sitting
down on the side of the bed near Frank's head, took
him by the hand, patting it on the back, and with

Page 151 HARDKNOCKS
head bowed and with tears trickling down his cheeks,
said: "It is too bad. You are a good man. Bad In
dian Uve up north." A few minutes later Appleton
died. This was the first tear I ever knew an Indian to
shed. Red Cloud having lost his son previous to this,
the memory of which came back to him with great
force and melted his Indian heart to tears. Mike
Dunne immediately started on horseback for Spotted
Tail Agency to inform Seville. When dayUght came,
Indians, young and old, crowded into the stockade in
great numbers. Many of them were dressed in their
war paint and under great excitement. About two
o'clock in the afternoon Seville arrived from Spotted
Tail Agency. The leading Indians then held a great
council with him which ended by their telUng him
that they were afraid they could not control their
young men as they were very greatly excited.
I neglected to say that in the construction of this
stockade, they built in the southeast comer a high
cupola, where one could go and get an unobstructed
view for miles. The excitement became so great that
Joe Bassnet called Ben Tibbetts to one side, teUing
him in Sioux to take us men up in this cupola, and to
remain there until he told us that it was safe to
come out, Ben did so. We then took sacks of flour
and other food, including water, into the cupola, and
with the flour built a barricade. We had but one gun
up there, that being a Winchester (the one used by
Ben for shooting cattle) , There we remained for four
days and nights. I could not describe the great
excitement going on among the Indians. They came
from aU directions, the chiefs aU sitting in council,
trying to decide what was best to do. They held the
agent as a hostage until the decision was made. The
younger Indians wanted to bum the Agency, kiU us
white men, and go north.

HARD KNOCKS Page 152
American Horse, previously spoken of, made the
Indians a final talk, telling them if they were brave
and wanted to fight the white man that they could go
down to Fort Laramie on the Platte River and find
plenty of them, including the soldiers, but they must
not harm us white men on the Agency ; that some of
us were married to their people, and were building
them an Agency and treating them kindly. This
seemed to quiet them. A white man living outside
of the stockade with a squaw as a wife — a squaw
man, as we termed them — was very much excited
and mounting his horse, rode to Fort Laramie in
great haste. On arriving there, he told General Smith,
who was in command, that the Indians had killed all
us white men and had burned the Agency and had
gone north on the war path. General Smith im
mediately telegraphed General Crook, who was in
command of the Department of the Platte, with head
quarters at Omaha, Nebraska. General Crook in
formed the War Department at Washington of these
conditions. The War Department immediately trans
ferred the Sioux Indians from the Interior Department
to the War Department. Crook was then ordered to
Fort Laramie, where he organized what was termed
the Crook expedition. Three days after the death of
Appleton the Indians furnished an escort for the
body to Fort Laramie, the doctor accompanying the
remains. From there they shipped the body to his
home. This showing conclusively that his present
ment had come true. Without a question of doubt,
the kiUing of this young man was the true cause of
the Sioux War of 1876.
After four days in this cupola, Bessnet informed
us that we could go back to our work as all was
safe. We aU gave American Horse credit for saving
our lives. The following day, myself and two others
left the Agency for Fort Laramie. We knew that

Page 153 HARDKNOCKS
something was going to happen as Appleton, at the
time he was killed, was reaUy acting agent, and we
knew the government would not stand for this kill
ing. When we arrived at Fort Laramie, all was ex-
excitement there; soldiers being equipped, six-mule
teams being assembled for transportation purposes,
soldiers arriving from Fort D. A. Russell. We im
mediately made application for a teamster's job and
had no trouble in securing one.
To explain more fully regarding conditions existing
between the Interior Department and the MiUtary De
partment regarding the Sioux before the death of
Frank Appleton on Red Cloud Agency, I will cite one
instance. One bright day in 1873, the horses of K
Company, 2nd Cavalry, were out on herd near the Post
Fort Laramie, guarded by two cavalry soldiers, when
five Sioux Indians rushed in between the Post and the
horses and ran them off, taking the soldiers with the
horses, getting across the Platte River before they
could stop them. The soldiers they stripped of their
clothing and sent them back to the Post naked. These
horses the Government never did recover as they
could not cross the Platte River after them, by virtue
of the Sioux treaty. I saw many of these horses on
the Agency when I worked there. This expedition
verifies the fact that the kiUing of Appleton changed
all treaty relations with the Sioux, and proves that this
expedition was the first step in the Sioux war of 1876.
In three days, with ten companies of soldiers.
General Crook in command, part being cavalry, we
started for the Agency. There were one hundred
six-mule teams, and I assure you it was a beautiful
sight to look this assembly over. The six-mule teams
traveling four abreast across the prairie, cavalry as
the advance guard and cavalry as the rear guard. The
infantry marched in single file on the outside, also

HARD KNOCKS Page 154
riding in the wagons. In due time we arrived on the
Agency and found nothing there except some old
bucks and old squaws, the balance of the Indians
having gone north, knowing that this expedition was
coming to the Agency. The agent and the boys there,
were of course, delighted to see us. We camped there
for about ten days. Then they established, about
three miles from the Agency, Fort Robinson — at that
time called "Camp Robinson." This post derived its
name from the fact that Lieutenant Robinson had
been killed by the Indians near Fort Laramie three
years prior to this. (As a coincident, I myself while
a teamster at Fort Laramie, drove the ambulance
that hauled Lieutenant Robinson's body into Fort
Laramie, and I also drove the six-mule team that
hauled the first load of commissaries to Camp Robin
son). After establishing this camp, we retumed to
Fort Laramie, leaving about one-half of the command
at Camp Robinson. Upon our arrival there, orders
were awaiting Crook to select, from our six-mule
teams, mules suitable for packing purposes, and with
his command to report to Fort Fetterman. This was
the first move directly of the Sioux War of 1876.
There was also at Fort Laramie orders to organize
what was called the Black Hills or Jenny expedition.
Colonel Dodge was in charge of the military depart
ment and Professor Jenny was the scientist. The
latter had instructions under military escort to enter
the Black HiUs and have it prospected for gold, as
there had been rumors that miners from the north
had gotten in there and found gold plentiful. This
was then called the Popsy Paw country and was
owned by the Sioux under treaties with the govern
ment. If Professor Jenny could verify this fact, the
government's intention was to buy it from the Sioux.
This would allow white men to go in there undisturbed.

Page 155 HARDKNOCKS
I joined this expedition in the capacity of a team
ster. I drove what was termed "Headquarter Wagon."
This wagon contained the equipment belonging to
General Dodge, and was always in the lead and thus
termed the "Lead Wagon." Among teamsters, this
was quite an honor and also quite a convenience, as
one arrived in camp earlier than the many teams
strung out in the rear.
The government was short of transportation and
in addition to fifty government six-mule teams, they
were compelled to hire forty teams owned by citizens,
making in all ninety teams.
Before leaving Fort Laramie, I met up at the
Suttler store a man named Botsford. He was an old
government employe and when I first went to Chey
enne, he was superintendent of transportation for the
government at a station close by, named Camp Carlin.
AU supplies destined for northern posts passed
through his station, same having been brought there
by the Union Pacific railroad. The superintendent
was considered a very high official, having &, great
responsibility upon his hands. Botsford was a highly
educated man and when off duty hobnobbed a good
deal with the officers at Fort D. A. RusseU, a short
distance away. He was also very sporty and par
ticularly fond of horse racing. At a horse race one
day, he and Lieutenant Whiting had a serious mis
understand regarding some bet that was made. After
the race Botsford went to Camp CarUn and later
Lieutenant Whiting followed him there, when they
got into a quarrel. Lieutenant Whiting drawing a six-
shooter, shooting twice at Botsford, but missing him.
Botsford being unarmed, ran to his quarters, the
lieutenant foUowing him. On a table lay Botsford's
gun. He snatched it up, shooting the Lieutenant and
killing him. This, of course, was a very serious
matter— the kiUing of a United States officer.

HARD KNOCKS Page 158
About this time an ambulance drove up. Bots
ford jumped into it, ordering the driver to drive him
to Cheyenne. He there gave himself up to the sheriff.
Later, when the soldiers heard of the death of their
lieutenant, they armed themselves and a great num
ber of them started for Cheyenne to avenge the
lieutenant's death. The citizens of Cheyenne, knowing
that there would be serious trouble over the matter,
also armed themselves and barricaded the streets
leading up to the jail where Botsford was confined.
This stopped the advance of the soldiers. Finally,
officers from Fort D. A. RusseU rode into Cheyenne
and ordered the soldiers back to their quarters. Bots
ford later on was tried and acquitted, but naturally
was discharged from the government's employ. He
then began to carouse and drink heavily, and in six
months he was a perfect sot. In fact, so low that he
became a saloon bum.
In meeting at the sutler's store as previously
stated, I said to him, "Why don't you brace up and
come out with us on this expedition?"
He replied, "No ; I am too far gone, and if I got
away from whiskey for two days, I would die."
I then said to him, "Botsford, if you wiU agree to
come along, I'll see Jim Duncan, the wagonmaster,
and get you a position driving a six-mule team, and
furthermore, I'll take whiskey enough along to brace
you up. In doing this you can make a man of your
self again. You are too good a man to go on in the
manner you are and here is your last chance."
The poor fellow began to cry and between sobs
told me that those were the first encouraging words
he had had spoken to him in two years. I left him
and went down to the corral to see Duncan. I asked
Duncan to give Botsford a chance. He laughed at
me, saying that Botsford would not live three days.

Page 157 HARDKNOCKS
I then told him my plan to brace Botsford up and
also told him that three years prior to this, Botsford
had done him many favors and that now was the
time to reciprocate. However, Duncan replied, "Your
heart is much larger than your head, and if you will
attend to him, I'U give him a job." The next moming
I had Botsford astride of the wheeler in a six-mule
team. In a few days the expedition started, and about six
times a day I would go back to Botsford and give him
a good, stiff drink of whiskey. I did not let many days
go by before reducing both quantity and quality, and
in two weeks one would not have recognized the Bots
ford of former days. An army officer who chanced to
see Botsford driving his team, reported the fact to
Colonel Dodge, telUng him of Botsford's previous
trouble with Lieutenant Whiting. This, of course,
caused a great deal of talk among the officers and
soldiers. Professor Jenny finally hearing of it, came
over one night to Duncan's tent and asked him who
this Botsford was. I was standing close by and
Duncan called me, telUng Professor Jenny at the
same time that I could tell him aU about the Bots
ford affair. Jenny invited me over to his tent and
I gave him Botsford's past history. When I got
through, he said that he wanted a private secretary
and asked me if I thought Botsford would accept the
position. I replied, "Yes, I'U see that he does accept
it." I then hunted Botsford up and explained matters
to him. He threw up his hands and said "No, and
for God's sake let me alone where I am." Talking
with him further, I discovered his reason for not
wanting to accept the position. He explained that if
he accepted the position it would throw him into
the society of the officers which might lead to trouble
for him. I then took him over to Jenny, leaving him
there. In about two hours he came over to my tent

HARD KNOCKS Page 158
and told me he had accepted the position. Botsford
held this appointment for a long time and was very
satisfactory to Professor Jenny. I wiU write more
of this man later.
Another man of prominence who accompanied this
expedition was a Mr. McGillacuty. Mr. McGillacuty
had a national reputation and had surveyed the
boundary line between British Columbia and the
United States. His duties were to take the topog
raphy of the country.
Our guide on this expedition was California Joe,
a very noted man in the west. This man was one of
the greatest mountaineers the west ever produced,
not excepting Freemont. I wiU also speak more of
this great man later on.
In due time we arrived at the outskirts of the
Black Hills, and made our first permanent camp on
French Creek. The town of Custer City is now located
there, named in honor of General Custer.

Page 159 HARDKNOCKS

CHAPTER XVIII.
GOOD AND BAD ARMY OFFICIALS OF THIS EXPEDITION
— A TRIBUTE TO CAPTAIN BURKE — HOW HE
FOUGHT ONE OF HIS PRIVATES— FAIR AND SQUARE
—A TEAMSTER'S MANY TROUBLES— HOW A LIEU
TENANT GOT EVEN— CALAMITY JANE.
A FTER we had formed this permanent camp,
/% Jenny and his assistants, who were miners and
LJk citizens, he being allowed five of them, went
A \ prospecting. In two weeks they found gold
on this creek in paying quantities. They
then went over the divide to Spring Creek, which
was but a few miles from their camp. They also
found gold there. It then became necessary
to send twenty-five teams back to Fort Laramie for
supplies. I was detailed as one of the twenty-five.
This trip was under the command of Captain Burke.
He was stationed at Fort Laramie when I arrived
there and during my stay. Officers of these frontier
posts favored, if possible, the teams and teamsters
that were stationed in their posts. Captain Burke had
risen from the ranks and was universaUy liked by all
who knew him, especially the citizens. In the army
at this time officers graduating from West Point
usually looked down on officers who had risen from
the ranks, but not so in Captain Burke's case, as he
was a very square and just man. I wiU cite you one
instance of his character as a man.
Some two years prior to this time at Fort Laramie,
the first sergeant of Burke's company, I, of the 14th
infantry, reported to him that he had a very trouble
some, fighting soldier in the company, and who had
whipped in a fist fight two or three of his men and
who bragged that he could whip any man in Fort
Laramie in a rough and tumble fight. Burke told the

HARD KNOCKS Page 160
sergeant that at guard mount next day to march the
company down to the banks of the Platte Rver, about
a quarter of a mile east of the parade grounds. To
do this, they had to march by the teamsters' quarters
at the corral. The next day we teamsters, seeing the
company march by, wondered where they were going.
Suddenly they halted, and I and three others ran
down there to see what they were doing. Just as
we arrived, Burke had ordered this man, whose name
was Murphy, to advance five paces in front of the
company. The soldier did so. Burke then addressed
him as follows :
"My good man, my first sergeant informs me that
you have been making a great deal of trouble in the
company by fighting with and bullying your com
panions. He also states that you have made a boast
that you can whip, in a rough and tumble fight, any
man in Fort Laramie, and I am here to inform you
that there is one man in Fort Laramie who doubts
your ability to fulfill your boast, and that man is I."
The soldier replied: "You forget that you are a
captain and I a private, and that I dare not fight you."
Burke leisurely unbuttoned his coat, removing it,
and throwing it on the grass between himself and the
soldier, remarked: "There lies Captain Burke and
here stands plain, ordinary Dan Burke. Now prepare
yourself by removing your blouse and hat, for you are
going to have the time of your life." The soldier did
so, and at it they went ; first one having the best of it,
and then the other.
They fought over the grass, rolling over and over;
sometimes Burke on top, other times the soldier. Blood
flowed freely. FinaUy, Burke got him by the throat
with his left hand, he being on top, then pressing his
knee against his abdomen, in the meantime choking
and punching him in the face, until the soldier shouted,
"enough." Burke arose, walked over to where his coat

.-.^ ^

CALIFORNIA JOE
The great mountaineer and guide in the Black HiUs, S. D. (Sketch)

Page 161 HARDKNOCKS
and cap were; the soldier being unable to rise, two or
three men stepped forward and helped him to his
feet, and I assure you he was a sight. Burke was
also very much disfigured. Captain Burke facing the
soldier, then said: "Now go back to your quarters
and behave yourself and always remember that there
is one man at this post you cannot whip." He then
marched the company back to their quarters, and in
the future this soldier was a "good dog."
The news of this fight soon spread around the
country, and I assure you that Burke raised a great
many notches in the estimation of aU who knew him.
We arrived at Fort Laramie in due time, nothing
of particular interest occurring on the trip. We re
mained in Fort Laramie about a week, having our
harnesses repaired, mules shod and wagons loaded.
One beautiful morning orders were given for us to
return to Jenny's camp, Burke still being in command.
At this time a lieutenant arrived at Fort Laramie
from Arizona. His name was Ray. He had served
under General Crook in the Apache War. He was
a "West Pointer" — as we termed those who had grad
uated there — and had a very exalted opinion of him
self, and hated a citizen and especially a teamster.
He was appointed quartermaster on this return trip.
To have the reader understand the authority invested
in a quartermaster, I must explain that they have
entire charge of the transportation and are held re
sponsible to the commanding officer for anything
occurring. The first day out this quartermaster began
abusing the teamsters for any triffing thing they
might do, and was very profane in his remarks, often
calUng them very vile names. We teamsters knew we
had struck a tartar and tried our best to keep out
of trouble with him.
About the third day out this fellow issued an
order to the effect that all teamsters, after unhitching

HARD KNOCKS Page 162
their mules, after arrival in camp, should put their
halters on them and lead them fifty paces from the
camp. His reason for doing this was that the mules,
in being turned loose at the wagon, might stumble
against the guy ropes of the officers' tents and annoy
them. When unharnessing the mules, as soon as the
teamster has released the hames from the coUars,
unbuckled the belly bands and unbuckled the collar,
the mules are gone with half the harness, if the
teamster is not very quick. The mules to some extent
are trained this way and to break them in to waiting
until they were completely unharnessed would be a
difficult job, as they were always very anxious to get
out to feed, since we did not carry feed for them on
these expeditions, not having room; the mules Uving
entirely on grass. As soon as they were released,
two or three teamsters were detailed each day to
herd them. Consequently, we paid no attention to the
order. The quartermaster did not notice this for a
couple of days.
We had a teamster in the outfit named PhilUps.
He was a Missourian ; very long and gangUng, and the
butt of all our jokes. The quartermaster happened to
come along when PhiUips was unhitching. He drove
four mules attached to an ambulance. He had just
turned two of his mules loose, when Ray caUed him
a vile name, saying, "Don't you know that I issued
an order that you d  teamsters were to halter and
lead your mules fifty paces out of camp ?"
Phillips did not answer him but proceeded to
unharness another mule. The quartermaster rushed
up to him and kicked him. Quicker than lightning,
Phillips shot out that great, large fist of his, hitting
the quartermaster between the eyes, knocking him
down. Ray had a six-shooter in a scabbard, which was
covered by a flap and buttoned, the same being at
tached to his belt. Reaching around he attempted to

Page 163 HARDKNOCKS
unbutton this flap to draw his six-shooter. PhilUps
rushed to the front box of the ambulance where he
carried his gun, getting it and throwing it down on
Ray, telling him not to draw that six-shooter or he
would kill him.
Ray exclaimed, "Don't shoot, teamster, don't
shoot," Then, getting up, walked away, PhiUips re
suming the unhitching.
In about thirty minutes a corporal and three men
put PhiUips under arrest, and escorted him up to
Captain Burke's tent, where Ray had already gone.
The first question Burke asked the teamster was, "In
what post are you employed?"
He replied, "Fort Laramie."
Burke then said, "The quartermaster informs me
that you disobeyed his orders and also struck him.
Is this a fact?"
PhilUps repUed, "Yes, sir."
"Why did you do so?"
Phillips then explained to Captain Burke the whole
circumstances, also teUing him that it would be almost
impossible for a teamster to obey this order, and that
he was very sorry it led up to any trouble. Burke
then turned to the quartermaster, saying, "Lieutenant,
I think you are too severe on our teamsters. This
mode of treatment of them might do in Arizona but
not in this country, and unless you change your ways,
some of these Fort Laramie teamsters wiU severely
injure you, for I know many of them and they are a
hard set."
This was a good lesson to Ray and before the
expedition was over we had very little trouble getting
along with him.
With this same expedition was another young
Ueutenant; I can't remember his name, but he had
recently arrived from West Point, One day, my team

HARD KNOCKS Page 164
being in the lead, I saw sitting on the prairie by the
side of a river, Captain Burke and three officers. Burke
motioned me to drive in toward them. Then I knew
we were going to camp there for the night. When I
got up to where they were, I said, "Captain, where do
you want this wagon to stand?"
He replied, "Unhitch where you are, teamster."
I had unhitched four of the mules, when this
blustering, little lieutenant came along, and in a loud
voice asked me why I was unhitching there. I told
him, by orders of Captain Burke. He fumed around,
finally ordering me to pull the wagon up ten paces
further. I paid no attention to him and kept on un
hitching the other team of mules. I thought the
fellow would go crazy. Finally a mild voice said,
"Lieutenant, what seems to be the trouble with you
and that gentleman?" with emphasis on the gentle
man, for it was very, very seldom a teamster was
called a gentleman by an army officer.
However, the lieutenant saluted and repUed, "1
wish this wagon moved ten paces."
Burke then said : "No, no, lieutenant, I ordered the
gentleman to unhitch there." I will ask the reader
how could any teamster disUke this Captain Burke.
I had been around government long enough to
know that this lieutenant, if he stayed with the ex
pedition long enough, and having it in for me, would
make it unpleasant for me if the opportunity pre
sented itself, and sure enough it was but a few days
before he supposedly got his revenge.
The quartermaster had issued an order that aU
teamsters should continuously ride their near saddle
mule while in motion. On all government wagons
teamsters would construct what we called a lazy
board. This was pushed under the wagon-bed between

Page 165 HARDKNOCKS
the fore and hind wheels on the near or left-hand side
of the wagon, and when we got tired riding the saddle
mule, we would puU out this lazy board and sit on it.
This order was just, as a teamster sitting on the lazy
board could not see all of his team. However, I was
sitting on this lazy board when along came my friend,
the lieutenant, and said, "Get up on that saddle mule."
I did so. He rode by my side, he being mounted, for
a half hour in hopes that I might say something to
him, but not one word from me. When we arrived in
camp and unhitched, a corporal walked down to our
mess and informed me that the commanding officer
wanted to see me. I went up there, and found,
standing in the tent, the lieutenant. Captain Burke
informed me that the lieutenant had reported me for
disobeying orders by riding on my lazy board. I
admitted the fact. Burke then tumed to the lieuten
ant and said : "I am going to give this teamster a very
severe sentence." This rather startled me. However,
turning to me. Captain Burke said: "Teamster, go
down to your mess, get an axe and immediately
destroy that lazy board. After you have done so,
bring the pieces and lay them at the door of this
Ueutenant's tent." I thanked him and backed out of
the tent. I have no recollection of that lazy board
being destroyed by me.
In due time we arrived at Jenny Camp and found
that Professor Jenny had satisfied himself that gold
was in paying quantities in that portion of the Black
Hills. I wiU here mention why this portion of the
country was called the Black Hills. On the outskirts
of these hills and visible from the plains were a great
many pine trees, very black, but upon getting close to
them, they were a pronounced dark green. Thus the
name "Black Hills."
It was from here that Professor Jenny and Pro
fessor McGiUacuty sent their first report to the

i/'

HARD KNOCKS Page 166
authorities in Washington. This report was trans
ported by carrier to Fort Laramie and from there
mailed to Washington. We remained in camp there
awaiting orders, which came after the authorities
had received this report. They ordered Jenny to
further explore these hills. This order was imparted
to Colonel Dodge and in three days we were again
on the move.
As mentioned previously, I stated that CaUfornia
Joe was our guide. To give the reader some idea of
the task that this man was attempting in an unknown
country, I will explain that there were one hundred
six-mule teams and ten companies of soldiers, part
of which were cavalry. The mules and cavalry horses
had to have grass and water to subsist on. The men
also had to have water, and the commissaries that
sustained these men, had to be transported with them.
Bear in mind that there were no roads in this
country and suitable ground had to be selected by
the guide in order that the teams and soldiers could
get through. Not once on the whole trip did this man
make a mistake, and never one dry camp did we have
to make. After entering the hills, California Joe traveled
entirely on foot, accompanied by a large black hound.
Wearing an old cavalry overcoat, cavalry pants tucked
in his boot tops, his gun in hand, and on his head an
old black, broad-brimmed slouch hat, he would start
out about the break of day, and before the command
was ready to move, Joe would ascend to a hilltop and
with his hands shading his eyes, would scsfti the
country in all directions. He would then return to
camp and report to Colonel Dodge, telling him the
direction he wanted the teams to travel that day and
that at times he would intercept us, if he wanted the
route changed. This much accomplished, California
Joe would then fill a buckskin sack with food enough

Page 167 HARDKNOCKS ,/
to last twenty-four hours for bptfi himself and the
^g, carrying the sack himself^
^We usuaUy followed the ridges, sometimes descend
ing to the river bed, and a few times it would be
necessary to rough-lock with chains, the wagon wheels,
and with a rope attached to the hind axle, then taking
a turn with the rope around a tree; in this way se
curing the wagon, as otherwise it would have been
impossible to have gotten down to the river bed. We
never, at any time, turned back. Joe would appear
on an average of twice a day to see how we were
getting along.
I remember one afternoon, after having had a
pretty hard time of it all the morning. Colonel Dodge
stopped the command to rest, when Joe happened to
come along. Being driver of the headquarter wagon,
I was always close to Colonel Dodge and his officers,
and overheard Dodge ask Joe where we were going
to camp that night.
Joe replied, "Colonel, do you see those two
mountains off to the west? There we wiU find the
headwaters of some river."
"How do you know this, Joe? You say you have
never been in here before."
All the reply Joe would make was: "I can tell by
the lay of the country."
Dodge smiled and said: "Joe, where is due north
and south?"
Immediately Joe broke off a piece of dry grass
and holding it between his thumb and. finger, said :
"Colonel, take out your store compass and if this
piece is not pointing due north, I will eat my old hat."
Sure enough it was. The colonel looked at Joe a
moment, and then said: "Joe, I would foUow you
through the wilds of Africa."

HARD KNOCKS Page 168
"Well," said Joe, shrugging his shoulders, "I could
take you and the outfit through there."
To which Dodge replied: "I beUeve you." Then
turning to the bugler, he ordered him to blow the
march. We then moved on and in three hours we
found the headwaters of Red River, and a beautiful
spot it was. Surrounding it was a small, open valley,
with plenty of grass, and to the astonishment of
Professor Jenny, he found timothy hay growing there
three feet high. How the seed ever got there was
always a mystery.
Poor Joe was killed in 1878 by a teamster named
Graham. They had been imbibing pretty freely at
Cuney & Coffee's ranch, six miles above Fort Laramie
on the Laramie River, and got into a dispute regard
ing our trip through the Black Hills, Graham having
been a teamster at the time. They finally agreed to go
out back of this ranch, put their backs together and
walk fifteen steps in opposite directions, then turn
and fire. Graham's nerve deserting him, friends
interfered and stopped the quarrel. About two months
later some teams were camped near Red Cloud Agency,
Graham being one of the teamsters. Joe, who was
living in that section of the country and seeing the
teams camped, walked toward them; Graham seeing
him, seized his gun and resting it on the wagon wheel,
shot poor old Joe, kiUing him instantly. Grahara
immediately took to the hiUs, but was foUowed by a
posse and captured three days later and was hanged
to a tree. Thus ended one of the greatest mountain
eers the west ever produced, and also ended the
career of a black-hearted murderer.
Professor Jenny prospected these hills thoroughly.
We often made camp and remained there for ten or
fifteen days while he was doing so. Finally we got
through the hills, coming out on the northwest side

Page 169 HARDKNOCKS
to the plains. We then skirted the hills on the north
and east side on our way back to Fort Laramie, from
where we had been gone five months.
The day before we arrived at Fort Laramie, my
friend Botsford rode up to me and said, "Young, I
don't know how to thank you for all you have done
for me. This has been a glorious trip through a
wonderful country and never in my life have I felt
better and never in my life have I thought more of
myself. With your assistance I have fought the fight
of my Ufe, and some day in the near future I wiU
repay you ten-fold for what you have done for me."
Taking me by the hand, he bowed his head and cried
like a child.
I said to him, "Botsford, when we arrive at the
post, don't forget that there is a sutler store there
and in that sutler store they seU vile whiskey."
He repUed, "Don't fear! never again! California
Joe and I, when we receive our pay, are going to fit
ourselves out and go back into the hills. I have
selected a place there, and if it comes up to my ex
pectation, you, Joe and myself, will have aU the money
we want for the balance of our Uves. You need not
come back with us, but if successful, I wiU find you
if you are on earth." They remained at Laramie for
only five days, then retuming to the hills. I will ex
plain to the readers later on how this man kept his
/ word. At this time, the true story of Calamity Jane's
history wiU not be amiss. She was bom at Fort
Laramie in 1860. She was the daughter of a soldier
named Dalton. Dalton was discharged from the army
in 1861, and with his wife and daughter settled on a
hay ranch on a stream caUed the La Bontie, 120 miles
from Fort Laramie. In the early faU of that year a
large body of Sioux Indians raided that country, kill-

HARD KNOCKS Page 170
ing all white persons that happened in their path.
Among those killed was Dalton, Mrs. Dalton was shot
in the eye with an arrow, destroying the sight, and
with her own hand extracted the arrow and quickly
bandaging the eye, placed her one-year old daughter
on her back and managed to escape. Traveling nights
and hiding by day, subsisting on weeds and roots, she
finally managed to reach Fort Laramie in eight days,
a mere skeleton of her former self, her clothing torn
to shreds. Before medical aid could be procured, she
expired. Sergeant Bassett, of company I, 14th in
fantry, and his wife adopted the child and prefixed to
her name, Jane Dalton, the word "Calamity," so hence
forth she was known as Calamity Jane. She was the
pet of the fort and lived there until the spring of
1875. Jane was then about fifteen years of age, quite
good looking, dark complexioned, black eyes and black
hair, which she wore short. She had no particular use
for a citizen, but anybody with a blue coat and brass
buttons, could catch Calamity.
At this time Calamity Jane was enamored with
Sergeant Shaw, of company E, 3rd cavalry. His com
pany having been detailed on the Jennie expedition,
and she wanting to accompany him, he suggested that
she wear cavalry clothes. He then secretly took her
to the company's tailor and fitted her out with a com
plete uniform. One not knowing her would never have
taken her for a female. She spent her time entirely
with this company and up to the time that we reached
our first permanent camp, none but Shaw, and pos
sibly a few other soldiers, knew that she was with the
expedition. In constructing this first permanent camp, they
arranged the officers' tents in a square, covering them
with bows cut from trees. This left a large space
which was termed the parade ground. One of the
tents was used as a sutler store, where was sold

Page 171 HARDKNOCKS
whiskey, tobacco, etc. One morning Calamity had
occasion to cross this square. Unfortunately, she met
an officer, who was a German and a great disciplin
arian, and having no chance to get by him, saluted him
in true soldierly style. He saluted in return. Quite
a number of officers were standing in front of the
sutler tent, one of them knowing Calamity and seeing
an opportunity for a joke on this officer, when the
latter approached them he laughed at him. He asked
him what he was laughing at. He made no reply, but
laughed louder. The officer then demanded to know
why they were laughing at him. They finaUy told
him that the soldier he had just saluted was Calamity
Jane. His dignity was hurt and he immediately made
an investigation and found that it was true, and also
found that Calamity was consorting with Ist-officer
Shaw, which caused Shaw to be severely reprimanded,
and also had an order issued expelUng Calamity from
the camp. Poor Calamity was in a quandary what to
do. She could not go back to Fort Laramie alone, as
the Indians were bad, etc.
As a final resort. Calamity Jane came up on the
hiU to where we teamsters were camped, and knowing
me weU, asked if she could go along with us. If so,
she would do the cooking for our mess. I finally got
permission from the wagonmaster to allow her to
travel and camp with us. This compeUed her to change
her soldiers' clothes for citizen clothes, which we fur
nished her. She remained with us the balance of the
way and naturaUy I saw much of her. When we
moved camp. Calamity rode in my wagon whenever she
got tired of walking.
One day when crossing Spring Creek, my wagon
turned over as I was making a turn, which threw the
rear end of the wagon into quite deep water. Calamity
being under the wagon sheet, was compelled to crawl
out of the hind end, and in doing so, fell into the

HARD KNOCKS Page 172
water up to her neck. My! how she did swear at me;
and she always seemed to have the idea that I did it
purposely, but such was not the case, as it was con
sidered a disgrace for a teamster to capsize his wagon
and was also a great trouble to him. This girl be
came a very notorious character and I will later on
speak of her further.
Before arriving at the Platte River, where Fort
Laramie was situated, there was a high divide and
when my team reached the pinacle of this divide,
which gave them a view of the post and three very
large hay stacks, they were about half starved and
very, very thin and were also very much skinned up
by the friction of the harness which they wore. Con
sequently, when my lead team saw this post, they
began to bray, the balance of the hundred teams
taking it up, making a horrible noise which was
deafening. We had made this trip by long, severe
drives and had not given the mules much chance to
graze. However, the poor animals were now in sight
of something good to eat, which accounted for the
deafening noise they made.
On arriving at the river, we found a rudely con
structed ferry boat or raft. This would only carry one
team at a time. It being now about four o'clock in
the afternoon, and by using this ferry, it would have
taken all night to have ferried us across. The river
in the channel for about fifty feet was deep enough
to compel a team to swim. The wagons were about
empty, as all the commissaries were about used up.
I suggested to the wagonmaster, Jim Duncan, that we
swim the outfit over. After some talk he consented
to do so, Being mounted on a sorrel mule, he waded
out in the river to the edge of the channel, with a
whip in his hand, and, as we drove out to where he
stood, he headed the teams upstream. This was a
wonderful and exciting experience, as some mules were

Page 173 HARDKNOCKS
good swimmers; others would not swim, but as the
channel was not wide, by the time the wheelers were
compelled to swim, the leaders were far enough across
to touch the bottom.
We succeeded in crossing the outfit in about two
hours without losing a mule or having any serious
accident. Jim then corraled the outfit, the mules
braying aU the time, when suddenly there loomed up,
coming from the post, two large loads of hay. At the
sight of this hay, the starved mules became almost
unmanageable, jumping over the wagon tongue to
which they were tied three on a side, getting tangled
up in their halter shanks; some breaking away from
the tongue and running toward the loads of hay, tear
ing into it, grasping great mouthfuls and devouring
it. After feeding the teams, giving them aU they
could eat, two more wagons arrived loaded with sacks
of oats. We then attached our feed box to the wagon
tongue and fed them all they could eat. We remained
in this camp for five days, and it is wonderful how
these mules picked up flesh and, mule-like, they would
kick one's head off if he were not very careful while
wandering among them. Such is mule gratitude.
I have mentioned a great deal the expression "six-
mule team" and for the benefit of the readers, I will
describe a six-mule team, then in use by the gov
ernment. Starting in at the wagon, the two mules hitched,
one on each side of the tongue, were termed wheelers
or wheel-mules. Attached to the end of this tongue
was what was termed a gooseneck, and attached to
this gooseneck was what were called spreaders, which
consisted of a straight bar, and on each end of this
bar were single-trees, and to these were attached
what was called the swing team. Also from the end
of this tongue was attached a chain about twelve

HARD KNOCKS Page 174
feet long, called a fifth chain, running between the
swing mules. Suspended from the inside hame of each
swing-mule was a small chain with a ring in the
center, through which the fifth chain ran. This ap
pliance was to keep the chain from sagging on the
ground. To the end of this chain was another pair
of spreaders, lighter in construction than the one at
the end of the tongue, and to this was attached the
lead mules. To the near lead mule or left-hand mule,
from a small chain suspended from the lower part of
the bit of the bridle was attached a strap made of
leather about an inch and a half wide on that end, in
creasing in width and reaching back to the wheel-
mule. This was called a lead line. The driver of the
team sat in a saddle on the near wheel-mule, holding
this strap in his hand when guiding the team. To the
outer hame of the outside lead-mule was attached
what was known as a jockey stick, which was about
the size of a broom-stick. The opposite end of this
stick was attached to the bit of the off-lead mule or
the right-hand one. If one wanted the team to go
to the right or gee, as it was caUed, the teamster
jerked his lead line, and the near lead-mule, having
been previously broken, would immediately turn to the
right, forcing its mate to go likewise. If the team
ster wanted to turn haw or to the left, he puUed on
the lead Une and they immediately tumed. The traces
used in those days were made of chain, covered with
leather, which was called piping. This piping would
become worn and the consequences would be that the
bare chain would skin the mule up awfuUy, and I be
lieve that this is why they termed teamsters "mule-
skinners." In those days there were no brakes on a gov
ernment wagon, and if we wanted to stop our team,
we had to depend entirely upon the wheelers to do so.
They were also broken mules and at the word "whoa,"

Page 175 HARDKNOCKS
they would sit back in their breeching, spreading out
from the tongue and with a chain, which was attached
from the end of the tongue to their hames, they would
hold back for dear life, and it is astonishing to me
now how they ever did it. In going down very steep
hiUs, we used a lock chain, which was attached to
each side of the wagon near the hind wheels, and loop
ing this to the rim of the wheel behind a spoke, we
would attach it with a hook and a smaU ring fitting
over the end of the hook. This made the wheels
stationary. Again, in going down very steep Mils, we
used a larger chain, which was caUed rought-locking.
With the free end of this, we took two or three turns
around the rim of the wheel, then making it fast,
allowed it to drag on the ground under the wheels;
thus the term "rough-locking."

HARD KNOCKS Page 176

CHAPTER XIX.
JIM DUNCAN, THE GREAT WAGONMASTER — CAMP
STAMBO IN THE SHOSHONE INDIAN COUNTRY-
TRANSFERRING CAVALRY COMPANIES— BACK TO
FORT STEELE AND FORT SAUNDERS— MY ONLY
EXPERIENCE AS A WAGONMASTER — PARKING
WOOD IN THE MOUNTAINS NEAR FORT FETTER
MAN— ATTACKED BY THE INDIANS, WHO KILLED
MY PARTNER, MACK, THE WOOD-CHOPPER.
JIM DUNCAN was one of the oldest of old-time
wagonmasters in the west in those days. He
had driven a spike team in the Mexican War.
He had also acted as wagonmaster during our
rebeUion and after that unpleasant affair he,
Uke hundreds of others, drifted to the far west. Jim
stood almost seven feet; very raw boned in physique,
long arms and legs, with very large hands and feet,
a steel gray eye, which was very piercing when he
looked at one, and a man absolutely fearless. His face
was considerably scarred up, for in his young days
he had participated in many broils, though not of his
own seeking. He dressed entirely in soldiers clothes,
wearing high topped boots, pants tucked in at the
top. In cold weather he wore a cavalry coat and
a black slouched hat, and I assure you he was the
picture of manhood and one of the most kind-hearted
men I ever had the pleasure of meeting. He admitted
to me one day that he was eighty-five years of age.
Jim Duncan was a great smoker and one scarcely
ever saw him without his little briarwood pipe in his
mouth. This pipe he would light, draw on it two or
three times, then forget to draw and let it go out.
He carried with him a pocketful of matches and was
continually relighting his pipe. This amused us
teamsters very much and I kept tab on him one day

^.2

Ol

Page 177 HARDKNOCKS
and in one-half hour he had lighted his pipe twenty
times, each time saying, "D  this pipe ; I can't seem
to keep it lighted, and when I get time, I'm going to
clean the d  thing from mouth-piece to bowl," but
I am quite sure that pipe was never cleaned.
It was said of Jim that he had worked so long
for the government that he could not sleep unless
the odor of a mule permeated the air. His feet being
so large, compelled him to have his boots made to
order, and on going to bed at night, myself and two
others occupying the same tent with him and sleeping
side by side in our blankets, we noticed that he always
put his boots under his head, same acting as a pillow.
In getting up in the moming very early, the tent being
dark, he would fumble around, extracting his right
boot first. In puUing it on, he would use a great deal
of profanity, damning his big feet and after a great
deal of stamping around, would finally get his boots on.
The left boot he had no trouble with. One night I
suggested to one of the teamsters that we steal his
right boot, which we did, secreting it under the
blankets at the lower end of our bed. Jim got up in
the moming as usual and taking the left boot, tried
to put it on the right foot, and I assure you the air
was blue in that tent. Finally he Ut a candle, then
discovering "that he had the left boot, he woke us up,
or thought he did, and demanded his other boot. We
all helped him hunt for it, finaUy finding it. He took
it in his hand and looking at it a moment, said:
"Either that d  boot or I am crazy, and I believe
I am the crazy one." This caused a great deal of
laughter. I remember another time when many of us team
sters were in a variety show in Cheyenne, kept by a
man named McDaniels, and on this occasion the
audience (which was large) ran this show to suit
themselves — taking possession of the stage, etc., and

HARD KNOCKS Page 178
if an actor or actress, or both, did not do their turn
to suit, the audience would not allow the curtain to be
lowered and made them do it over again. Jim this
night was behind the scenes, the curtain dropped and
he started to cross the stage, when someone suddenly
raised the curtain. This exposed him about the
center of the stage. The audience yelled with delight,
many of them rushing on the stage, catching Jim,
compelled him to do a turn before they would release
him. This he did, singing in a cracked voice, with
out an accompaniment, that old-time song, "Betsy
from Pike." At the end of this song, he danced an
old-time jig. We compelled him to do this act three
times, when the old fellow was exhausted. This
made the greatest hit that ever appeared in McDaniels'
Theatre. The Jenny expedition disbanded at Fort Laramie;
soldiers and citizens being paid five months' wages.
An order then came from the War Department to
transfer Company M of the 2nd Cavalry to Camp
Stambo, which was situated in the Wind River Valley
in the Shoshone Indian country. From there we
moved E of the 2nd Cavalry to Fort Saunders. With
this transfer went twenty-five six-mule teams, I being
one of the drivers and Duncan as wagonmaster. We
started on the SOth of September and had a beautiful
trip, arriving there in the early part of October,
In that country was a very large hot springs and
old Duncan having rheumatism very badly, we pre
vailed upon him to remain there for a month in hopes
it would cure him. After a great deal of persuasion
he finally did so. Each teamster donated a share of
their provisions, or rations, and gave to him. This
left a vacancy for a wagonmaster. Personally, I did
not want the position, as I was rather quick tempered
in those days and could not get along with army
officers. However, Duncan insisted on my taking the

Page 179 HARDKNOCKS
job, to which I finaUy consented. Then the old fellow
began to warn me not to have any trouble with the
officers and to take good care of the mules, for if
anything happened it would reflect upon him, as he
had recommended me. I promised him that I would
do the best I could. We finally started for Fort
Steele on the line of the Union Pacific railroad.
We had not left the post to exceed four hours when
I had a misunderstanding with the first sergeant
of the cavalry company. He was continuaUy annoying
the teamsters and finally turned on me. We were both
mounted, I riding Duncan's saddle mule and he a
cavalry horse. After a while I lost my temper, rushed
at him; when he attempted to draw his six-shooter,
I being quicker than he, struck him over the head
vrith my gun, knocking him from the horse. The
largest part of the company were away in advance of
the teams. The soldiers ran to him, picking him up
and dressing his wounds, tying a bandage around
his head. The sergeant then mounted his horse and
riding off, reported me to Captain Peal, teUing him
a lot of things that were not true.
When we made camp that evening, the Ueutenant,
who was acting as quartermaster, detailed a corporal
and three men, instructing them to bring me to his
tent. They found me up in the mess wagon and
ordered me to come with them, which I refused to do.
The corporal attempted to get up in the hind end of
the wagon, when I told him that if he came any
farther, I would kiU him. By this time the teamsters
had gathered around the wagon, teUing me that they
would stand by me. Hearing the commotion, the
Ueutenant came up, telling the corporal to get up in
the wagon and take me out. I told the lieutenant that
I knew soldiers had to obey orders and instead of
getting this man injured, for him to come up and take
me out. He immediately took me at my word, and as

HARD KNOCKS Page 180
he arose to a standing position in the wagon, I tackled
him, the teamsters holding the soldiers back so they
could not injure me or assist the Ueutenant. Presently
I heard the words, "What is all this trouble about?"
Looking up, I saw Captain Peal. He knew me, having
been stationed at Fort Laramie previous to this. They
separated us and, taking me by the arm, the Captain
walked me down to his tent and the first thing he did
was to give me a good, stiff drink of brandy; then
saying, "Wagonmaster, I want you to teU me your
side of the trouble with my 1st Sergeant." I did so,
teUing him the truth. He then said, " I am surprised
at you, knowing that we must have discipline, and I
fear that you have gotten into serious difficulties."
He then gave me another drink, which was very ac
ceptable under the circumstances; he, of course, each
time joining me in the drink.
The captain then said, "I do not want to punish
you severely, but I should order you in irons until we
arrive at Fort Steele."
I replied, "Captain, I am a citizen, not a soldier, and
am wilUng to quit my position and walk back to Camp
Stambo, but I will not go in irons alive."
"Then the only way out of this trouble that I can
see is to form the company in line and have you make
a public apology to the lieutenant, as the sergeant
seems to be satisfied in his part of the affair and
has not made any charge against you." I told him
no; that I could not even do that. Presently, in came
the lieutenant. The captain again passed the Uquor
around. The lieutenant looking at both of us said,
"Captain, this is a pretty husky wagonmaster we
have." He replied, "Yes, he is an old acquaintance of mine
from Fort Laramie, and lieutenant, if this man apol-

Page 181 HARDKNOCKS

ogizes to you here, are you wiUing to let the matter
drop?" The Ueutenant repUed, "Yes, sir. I will do better
than that. After his apology, I will shake him by the
hand, for it takes a pretty good man to handle me
the way he did, and I was very glad that you appeared
on the scene when you did, for I fear I would not
have been able to have continued on the trip."
I made the apology and told him that I believed he
was a good fellow after all. We then took another
drink, and the matter ended there. The balance of
the trip was very pleasant to all concerned. We
finally arrived at Fort Steele, remained there a few
days, then going down to Fort Saunders, situated '
near Laramie City, but now abandoned. There they
turned the outfit over to me and I proceeded on to
Camp Carlin, where I turned the teams over to the
superintendent and was there paid my wages. The
superintendent. Perry Organ, asked me to stay
around there a few days and he would send me out as
a wagonmaster with some teams going north. I
thanked him, telling him that I had no more desire
to be a wagonmaster. I remained there a few days
until I got rid of my money in Cheyenne, from there
going to Fort Fetterman.
Upon arriving at Fort Fetterman, I met my old
friend, Jack Hunton. Jack informed me that I was the
very man he was looking for. He had the wood con
tract for that year for the post and was short about
fifty cords to complete the contract. The Indians were
quite bad around there at that time and it was diffi
cult to get a white man to go out in the mountains.
He informed me that this wood was cut and piled on
very steep side hiUs in the mountains twenty miles
from there, and that he had arranged with one man
named "Old Mack," the wood-chopper, but required

HARD KNOCKS Page 182
another to go with him. He offered me ten dollars per
day, furnishing a mule-team, wagon, guns, blankets
and provisions, if I would go, and help park this wood
— meaning by that, to haul it from side hills to where
they could get at it with ox teams to transport it to
the post. I told him it depended on the other man,
I not knowing him and wanting to know what kind of
a man he was. I was introduced to the other man,
and after talking with him for a time, found he was
all right. I then accepted the position. We started
out next morning, arriving at the spot about, dark
and there we found an old log cabin, it having been
used by the wood choppers and there we made camp.
That night I talked the matter over thoroughly
with Mack, and we agreed to stay together, knowing
the Indians were bad, and, if separated at any time,
we were not under any circumstances to shoot a gun
off unless it were at an Indian. We took this pre
caution as game was very plentiful in these mountains.
We worked there for five days, I driving the team
and after the wagon was loaded, we rough-locked it
before starting down the steep hiUside. Mack, walk
ing on the offside of the wagon, carrying both of the
guns, I on the near side, driving the team, walking on
the ground, as it would be dangerous to ride on the
load in case anything should break.
On the sixth day. Mack conceived the idea of burn
ing a charcoal pit, he having foUowed that occupation
and understood it, explaining to me that in this way
we could make some side money. I objected to this,
reminding him of our agreement and also telling hira
that it was not treating Hunton right; that he had
employed us to park wood, not to burn charcoal pits.
However, he finally talked me into it and selected a
place inclosed by three rocky ridges, on the edge of
a deep, rough canyon through which flowed a stream,
named Box Elder. This stream emptied into the

Page 183 HARDKNOCKS
Platte River, ten miles below there. The following
moming he started out with his axe in one hand and
gun in the other. We each carried forty-one roimds
of ammunition, forty of which were in a belt around
our bodies, the other in the gun. I put on a load of
wood, now being alone and started down the hillside.
On the opposite side of the wagon was a small
stump which I could not see. I ran against this with
the off forewheel. There was no way to get clear of
it except to unload the wagon. This, of course, made
me very angry at Mack. However, setting my gun
against the rear wagon wheel, I started to throw off
the wood and had thrown but a few sticks to the
ground, when I heard a gun shot coming from the
direction where Mack was. I quickly jumped to the
ground when I heard the second shot. Grasping my
gun, I ran up the hillside as fast as I could and when
within a few feet of the top, I saw two Indians dis
appear over the ridge to the north. I knew then that
Mack was killed. In a few moments a shot was fired
from the opposite direction to where I saw the two
Indians. Having my right hand around the breech of
the gun near the trigger, the shot struck my finger,
breaking the gun at the breech. Looking over my
shoulder I saw three young bucks running toward
me, occasionally dodging behind a rock. I could not
shoot at them for my gun was out of commission and
I dare not let them know by any action of mine, that
such was the case. I knew my only chance was to
get down into Box Elder Canyon, where it was very,
very rough. OccasionaUy these feUows would take a
shot at me, but fortunately not hitting me, and when
they exposed themselves, I would point my gun at
them, when they immediately would dodge to cover.
I would then run farther down into the canyon,
finaUy getting to the bottom and not seeing any more
of my pursuers, I headed for the Platte River, crawl-

HARD KNOCKS Page 184
ing over and around great rocks and fallen trees.
Darkness came on, but I still kept on going and tired
and worn out I eventually reached the Platte River
about dayUght next morning. I then had open country
to travel in and reached the post about one o'clock
in the afternoon a sorrowful looking sight, my finger
giving me a great deal of pain and all the time bleed
ing profusely. I had my finger attended to by the
Post surgeon, to whom I reported the affair, then
going to the commanding officer, reported it again to
him. He looked at me a few moments, saying, "It
serves you right. Why did you go out into the hiUs
when you knew the Indians were bad around there?"
I then asked him if he would give me an ambulance
and a small escort of soldiers to go out and bring in
the body. He then sent his orderly for some other
officers and after some conversation, he furnished the
escort, I going with them and riding in the ambulance.
We got started about four in the afternoon and
traveling rapidly we arrived at a spring about two
miles from where the body lay. The officers ordered
a halt; I supposed for the purpose of watering the
horses, but to my astonishment, they began un
saddling them. I asked the Ueutenant in charge if he
were going to camp. He repUed, "Yes, as it would
be dangerous to go into the hiUs at that hour of the
night." I then told him that I was afraid the wolves
would eat the body and asked him to detail two
soldiers to accompany me and I would take care of
the body until they arrived in the morning. He finaUy
did so. One of the men detailed was a very excitable
fellow. When we arrived in the hills, I had no trouble
finding Mack's body. . He was lying on his face with
his left hand under his breast, his right hand ex
tended, with two gun shots in his back, also an arrow
which protruded about four inches. He was scalped

Page 185 HARDKNOCKS
completely, except for a little hair on the lower part
of the head.
We built a fire close by the body, and lay down
quite a distance from the fire. The exciteable man
would imagine every few moments that he saw an
Indian crawling up on us and wanted to shoot at him.
We had great trouble in convincing him that there
was no danger from Indians at that time. Daylight
finally came, the ambulance and escort arriving, when
we loaded poor old Mack's body in the ambulance and
started back to Fort Fetterman, arriving there about
eleven o'clock in the morning. We immediately buried
Mack as the stench from the body was then very bad.
This ended my wood parking business and I never
learned whether the job was completed or not.
After the death of my partner, old Mac, I resumed
my occupation of teamster at Fetterman, but only
lasted one week. There were two cliques of officers
at that post, and when they wanted to have a good
time they would select Sunday. Ordering one six-
mule team hitched up, and putting Uquid refreshments
in the wagon, they proceeded up the Platte River
about five miles, and there had their time. It was an
unwritten law in all posts that teamsters did not
hitch up Sundays unless it was an absolute necessity.
This day was set apart for teamsters to wash and
mend their clothes, etc. I refused to hitch up when
ordered by the wagonmaster. He reported me to the
quartermaster. I was then put under arrest, and
finaUy was escorted by a sergeant and four men to the
edge of the post, tied face up on a brass cannon that
was used to fire at sunset each night. There I re
mained for twenty minutes. The flies were very plen
tiful, and they swarmed on my face and hands, get
ting up my nostrels and into my eyes. After releas
ing me, I StiU stood pat and would not hitch up the
team. I was then put in the guard house until mid-

HARDKNOCKS Page 186
night and in the morning discharged and escorted off
the reservation. I walked to Fort Laramie, a black-
baUed teamster. The reader would naturally ask, why
did you stand for this treatment ? Simply because you
could not help yourself, as government posts were
far from towns, and if you wished to remain in the
post and follow the business of teamster you had to
stand for many things. The officers were supreme.

Page 187 HARDKNOCKS

CHAPTER XX.
CUSTER CITY, THE FIRST TOWN ESTABLISHED IN THE
BLACK HILLS— HEYDAY TIMES IN THE HILLS-
PROVINCIAL GOVERNMENT.
ON the first day of November, 1875, there
came into Fort Laramie a Mr. Jones, Mart
Gibbons, Charley Smith, and another old
gentleman, whose name I can't recall. The
first two mentioned I knew on Red Cloud
Agency when I worked there. They had a four-
horse team loaded with supplies and in the load was
a barrel of high-proof whiskey. Jones was originaUy
from California, having kept merchandising stores at
various mining camps in that country. They were all
well armed and were going into the Black Hills. Jones
and Gibbons invited me to go with them. We started
and in due time arrived at Jenny's old camp on French
Creek. There we found quite a number of houses of
various size constructed of logs, some of which were
hevra, and living there were about a hundred men,
mostly miners. They were getting good pay from the
creek and as this looked good to us, we remained there.
Others came. The town grew rapidly and I finally
concluded to go into the saloon business in a small
way. Jones having this barrel of whiskey, I knew
I could get a starter there, but where to get the
glasses and other paraphernalia that would be neces
sary for a saloon, I did not know.
However, I rented one of the vacant buildings,
intending to start up with the whiskey alone. In a
few days a large outfit arrived there and among them
was an old friend of mine named Sam Gaylord, whom
I used to know in Dodge City, Kansas. He had a bar
outfit, intending to go into the saloon business. Gay
lord having brought plenty of Uquor with him of

HARD KNOCKS Page 188
various kinds and I having the location, we entered
into a partnership and opened up the best equipped
saloon that was ever conducted in Custer City.
After the town began to get established, the
leading citizens called a meeting for the purpose of
forming some kind of local government there and
finally decided to have a provincial government. The
next night they met again. These meetings were held
in our saloon, which of course brought business to
our bar. They then appointed a man named Farnum
for Mayor; another by the name of Keiffer, was ap
pointed Justice of the Peace; appointed another man
as prosecuting attorney, whose name I forgot; John
Burrows was made marshal. Burrows was from
Denver, Colorado, and had been marshal there. He
was quite large in stature and always wore two large
six-shooters stuck in his belt. The appointment of
marshal had been first offered to me, but I refused.
Four days later the Mayor and Prosecuting Attorney
concluded that Burrows should have a deputy, as the
hours were too long for one man. They advised me to
take this position and as it would make me more
popular and would bring business to the saloon, I
accepted, taking the watch from twelve noon until
twelve midnight ; Burrows taking the other shift.
In the meantime people were arriving in large
numbers and it kept both Burrows and myself quite
busy keeping order. The principle of this provincial
government was, that if the law was broken in any
way, we tried the offender in day Ught, subpoening a
jury of twelve men and, if he had means, he had the
privilege of employing an attorney or some one to
defend him. If found guilty of a serious offense, we
would send him to Cheyenne, where he could be tried
in a recognized court of justice. If not serious, we
always fined him in dollars and cents, this money being
used to defray expenses of our government.

Page 189 HARDKNOCKS
One afternoon while I was on duty, I was sitting
in a barber's chair getting shaved. The barber had
just lathered my face, when I heard a gun shot and in
a few moments another shot. I snatched the towel
from my neck and wiping off the lather, rushed out
of the door, and saw a man lying on the ground and
another man standing over him with a six-shooter in
his hand. They were in front of a saloon about fifty
yards away from where I stood; the saloon being
situated on the bank of the creek. With others I ran
down there and sneaking up behind the man who was
standing, caught him around the arms pinning them
to his side, and asked some one in the crowd to
disarm him, which they did. I then hurried him into
a vacant log cabin close by, closing the door and
barring it and admitting only two others with me.
We then found that the man who did the shooting was
intoxicated and was very much excited. I told him
to compose himself as I wanted to ask him some
questions. He sat down on the floor and cried Uke
a child, but finaUy controlUng himself, when I asked
him why he had kiUed the other man. He replied,
"My God, is he dead? He is my partner and the
best friend I ever had in the world." Further question
ing him for his name and where he was from, he told
me he was Tom MilUgan and that he was from Eureka,
Nevada. I then left him in charge of the other two
men and, going out of doors, inquired of two or three
persons who saw the shooting, how it occurred.
I leamed from these men that MilUgan and his
partner staggered out of the saloon door, his partner
telUng MilUgan to take a shot at an oaken bucket
that we used in drawing water from a well, situated in
the center of the town. MilUgan did so. He then
said, "Shoot again, Tom." As Tom did so, his partner
staggered in front of him and the baU penetrated his
head above the right eye, killing him instantly.

HARD KNOCKS Page 190
A very large crowd in the meantime had gathered
around the cabin where I had him confined, and not
knowing the particulars of the shooting, made threats
that they wanted to hang him. I talked to them, tell
ing them about our form of government there and
that we would give him a trial the following day, and
that they must not harm him. Some agreed to this,
while others threatened what they would do. By this
time it was getting dark and I entered the cabin and
talked with MilUgan. He told me he knew that he
would be hanged that night. I replied, "If they hang
you tonight, they will have to kill me first; and to
show you I mean what I say, I wiU send one of these
men up to my saloon and have him bring down here
two guns, one a shotgun loaded with buckshot and the
other a Winchester. You can take one and I the other
and when it gets a little darker, I am going to take
you down the creek to where I have a long cabin, and
there you will be safer than you are here."
This surprised him very much and gave him great
confidence in me. I then sent one of the men to my
place. He procured the guns and brought them to me.
I offered MilUgan his choice and he took the Win
chester. Four or five of my friends wanted to assist me in
protecting the prisoner, but I told them no, and that
they could better protect him by mingling among the
crowd, advising the crowd to wait until the morrow
before they attempted any violence, and that I would
assure them that they would change their minds when
they heard the evidence. This they did. I then took
MilUgan down to the cabin mentioned, remaining there
until nine o'clock the next moming.
When I brought the prisoner up to the building
used for the courtroom, it was crowded. And there
I discovered MilUgan was a prominent Mason in good

Page 191 HARDKNOCKS
standing. Personally, I am not a Mason, but I could
readily see in the actions of men whom I knew were,
that MiUigan would get a fair and square trial. About
this time Burrows appeared on the scene and strutted
around like a peacock, being very officious. I had
sent the two men the night previous to find Burrows,
but he could not be found. This convinced me that he
was a coward, and I paid no attention to him. We
gave MilUgan his trial and the jury acquitted him,
except that they fined him twenty-five dollars for
sWoting his gun off within the city Umits.
y The trial over, we buried MiUigan's partner that
aftemoon. MilUgan attended the funeral, I walking
by his side, and never in my life have I seen a man
so deeply affected. There were many in the town who
stiU wished to hang him, and thinking they might in
jure him, I advised him to leave Custer that night. He
told me he had no horse. I loaned him mine and he
left about ten o'clock. I told him if he arrived at
Fort Laramie safely to send the horse back to me by
someone he could trust. Fortunately, when he ar
rived at Laramie, he met his brother Ed, who was
also from Eureka, and of course told him about the
manner in which I had treated him and about his
trouble, turning the horse over to Ed, who arrived in
Custer in due time, and we naturaUy became great
friends. I never knew what became of Tom after he
reached Laramie, but poor Ed two years later, I heard,
shot himself accidentally and died from the wounds
in Sidney, Nebraska.
After this experience, I concluded I did not want
any more of the "marshal business," and resigned the
following day. This kiUing was the first white man
kiUed by one of his own race in the Black Hills.

HARD KNOCKS Page 192

CHAPTER XXL
ORGANIZING THE CUSTER CITY SCOUTS — CAPTAIN
JACK CRAWFORD, THE POST SCOUT— THE DEAD-
WOOD STAMPEDE— JIM WALL— A DYING CONFES-
FESSION FROM A MAN WHO DID NOT DIE.
REQUIRING more buildings in the town, quite
a number of men engaged in the occupation
of cutting and hauling logs suitable for that
purpose, the trees growing on a ridge about
two miles distant. While engaged in this
business the Sioux Indians killed two of the party,
and the men refused to continue work until the citi
zens called a meeting to discuss some means of protec
tion for them. This ¦ the citizens did, the meeting
taking place in my saloon.
The evening of the meeting there arrived in the
town a man with long hair, broad-brimmed hat and
wearing a buckskin jacket. Hearing of the meeting,
he came down into the saloon and introduced himself
to me as Jack Crawford and said he was a corres
pondent for the Omaha Bee, and would Uke to report
this meeting. I introduced him to the mayor and two
others, who granted him the privilege sought. At
the meeting we concluded to appoint five men to act
as guards for the log cutters, and named them the
Custer City Scouts. Later in the evening Crawford
took me aside, saying, "Young, the principal part of
my business out here is to make a reputation, study
the habits of the country, and, if possible, to learn
something of the Sioux Indians." He also told me
that he was a poet, and in an off-hand way, quoted
some poetry of the Bret Harte style, which I consid
ered very good. He then asked me if I could have
him appointed chief of our scouts. Having made a
good impression upon me, I told him I would talk with

Page 193 HARDKNOCKS
the mayor, and I asked him to call on me next morn
ing. 'The mayor and others took kindly to the propo
sition and the foUowing day we appointed him the
chief. We then notified the log cutters of what had
taken place and they immediately resumed work under
the guard appointed.
This was the means of bringing Crawford his first
notoriety as a scout. He was a temperate man, neither
drinking nor using tobacco; something very unusual
in those days. He became very popular there and
entertained us very often with his poems.
Crawford being out one day on a scouting trip alone,
found lying in the grass, very sick, what he supposed
to be a full-blooded Sioux Indian. Jack gave him some
water, and seeing his chance to learn something of the
Indian characteristics, secretly brought this sick man
to his cabin after dark, and took care of him, not
letting any of the citizens know, as he feared they
might kiU him. The Indian finaUy became so sick
that he concluded he was going to die, and turning
to Jack said in good English, "Go down and bring
Young up here. I knew him at Fort Fetterman and
know that he would like to talk with me."
I went to his cabin and was much surprised to find
that the supposed Indian was Jules Seminole, a half
breed Sioux, but a renegade, and I knew that he was
worse than any full-blood. He asked Crawford to
step out of the room, as he wished to tell me some
thing. The reader wiU recaU the shooting of my partner,
old Mack, the wood-chopper, near Fetterman. Sem
inole told me that he was a brother-in-law of a man
named Sneed Stagner, who was a squaw-man and
took sub-contracts for cordwood for Fort Fetterman.
Stagner owed old Mack three hundred dollars for
chopping wood, and to cancel his debt, he gave Sem
inole one hundred dollars to kill old Mack. He also

HARD KNOCKS Page 194
said it was he and another Indian I saw running over
the point of the ridge and that I was lucky the other
three Indians who were with him did not get my
scalp. I was dumbfounded with his story. I thought
the matter over and decided to wait and see if Sem
inole recovered. If so, I would then place him under
arrest and take him to Cheyenne, where he would re
ceive proper punishment.
My decision showed poor judgment, however, for
two weeks later Seminole suddenly disappeared, tak
ing with him Crawford's horse. I regretted then that
I had not given him his just deserts. I leamed later
that he was hanged in South Dakota for murdering
a sheep herder, and I hope the report is true. Years
after this Crawford had shows out on the road, hira
self being leading man. Of course, his plays were of
the Indian character, and I understand that he has
made a great deal of money.
One day there arrived in Custer three four-horse
teams, the wagons containing a large saloon outfit
and fourteen dance-haU girls. They had come from
Cheyenne and were brought in there by a man named
Al Swarringer. Accompanying them were eight men
who were gamblers. Their arrival created quite a
commotion as we now knew we were going to have
some amusement. Swarringer immediately con
structed a large log building, flooring it, and in the
rear erected fourteen stalls, or rooms, where the girls
slept. At the back of the building was a shed in
which they cooked and ate. This new enterprise took
the town by storm and Swarringer made a great deal
of money there. Among these girls was one named
Georgia Dow, whom I had known in Hayes City, Kan
sas. Georgia was the queen of the dance-hall girls
in Custer, she having been a long time in the busi
ness. She remained in that country until the faU of
1876, following her occupation, when she went to

Page 195 HARDKNOCKS
Sydney, Nebraska, partially reforming, and I have
been told she died at the age of 60. This is very re
markable, as that class of girls dissipated awfully and
were frightfully abused by their lovers, who took
from them all they could eam and frequently pun
ished them severely when they did not earn enough.
Georgia was a very kind-hearted girl and when any
one was sick or injured, she was the first to offer her
assistance. One aftemoon there walked into my saloon my
friend Botsford, of whom I have previously spoken.
He quietly informed me that he had discovered rich
diggings on a stream he had named Deadwood, which
was seventy-five miles northwest from Custer. The
name Deadwood was derived from the large amount
of dead timber found along the stream. He exhibited
two well-filled pokes or sacks of gold, and remarked
that he had staked out a claim for me and that he had
come in for supplies, intending to return in a few days.
Botsford asked me not to mention this fact until he
had gone, as it would cause a stampede, but to go
there as soon as I could settle my affairs in Custer;
adding, that if a stampede occurred, he would be un
able to hold the claim for me unless I were present.
In three days he left. On the fifth day the news in
some way had leaked out about the discovery, but
through what source I am unable to say. I do know,
however, that I had not mentioned it to anyone — and
such a stampede was never witnessed again in that
country. The town was practically deserted in twenty-
four hours.
My partner also got the fever, and without telUng
me, went to the corral and borrowed my horse, saddle
and bridle. This left me a building and saloon fix
tures on hand, but no customers. In about ten days
I concluded to migrate to the new diggings, and, nail
ing up the doors and windows of the saloon, departed.

HARD KNOCKS Page 193
Arriving at Deadwood in due time, I found my claim
was jumped. On going to Botsford and telUng him
of the fact, he said, "Don't worry. I have another
one staked out for you on Whitewood." Whitewood
was a branch of Deadwood. I worked this claim with
four other men, but could not find the pay streak, and
when my ready cash was gone, I abandoned it. Others
took possession of it, but never found anything of
value and it was known as a blank.
It being very difficult and expensive to get a loca
tion in the town of Deadwood, which was building up
very rapidly, no one paid much attention to the loca
tion of his house. The gulch was very deep and nar
row, and on the north side was a very high ridge con
sisting of great rocks, which made it impossible to
build against the side hill. I finally concluded I would
go to work. A man named Bill Nuttle had partly
completed a large, hewed log building, and having ex
pended all his money in doing so, was compelled to dis
pose of the building as it stood. Carl Mann and Jerry
Lewis purchased it and completed it. Mann was a
saloon man and Lewis a gambler, — one from Montana
and the other from Nebraska.
These men named this saloon "Sixty-six." They
employed me to attend to the bar. After opening
they sent a wagon, drawn by a four-horse team, to
Custer City to bring in my Uquors that I had left
there, intending to pay me for them. On arriving
there they found the saloon broken open and every
thing of value gone. The "Sixty-six" saloon was one
of the largest in that country at this time. We had
in operation two faro games, a chuckaluck game and
a twenty-one game. Poker and other short card
games were also played. The town was booming,
great numbers of people coming in each day from the
north and the south. The diggings were shallow and
rich, and a great deal of gold dust was taken out in a

Page 197 HARDKNOCKS
short time. One of the most successful miners was
a man named Jack McAUer, commonly called Black
Jack on account of his dark complexion and hair. This
fellow was looked upon as king of the town, but of
course, there were many lesser lights who were all
great money spenders, as pioneers of this sort usually
are. Swarringer had moved his dance-haU girls from
Custer, using a building opposite the saloon as a dance
haU. The circulating medium of the town was gold dust.
If a greenback showed up, it was immediately put out
of circulation, as it was much easier to remit for sup
pUes than gold dust. Every saloon and business house
had gold scales for weighing the dust, and I became
very expert at this business and had the reputation
at that time of being the quickest gold dust weigher
in Deadwood, In handling gold dust, and before
weighing it, we emptied it from the poke or sack into
a tin receptacle, the shape of a fire shovel minus the
handle, caUed a blower. We then ran through it a
steel magnet to learn if it were pure, as clean gold
was worth more per ounce than gold carrying iron or
other substances. If one wanted to take from it, say
fifty cents' worth, he pinched it between his thumb
and index finger, and with practice it was astonishing
how close to the amount desired could be pinched.
This was why I was called a fast weigher. It seemed
to come naturaUy to me and often miners would wager
money on my ability to pinch the amount designated.
Later on I purchased a square piece of Brussels car
pet upon which I set the gold scales. This carpet
extended out from the scales about six inches on each
side, and in going from the receptacle to the scales,
by moving one's finger and thumb a little, one would
drop into this carpet quite a few particles of gold dust,
and it was very common to me, when going off watch,
to shake out eight or ten dollars' worth. This was

HARD KNOCKS Page 198
termed "side money," and was universally practiced in
that town.
Our strongest competitors there were John Mann
and John Manning. They owned the "Montana Sa
loon," same deriving its name from their native state.
Another strong competitor was Jim Pencil, who was
also from Montana. There were a few other smaUer
competitors. There were also some great characters
in this town, who mostly had nicknames. First,
"Johnny the Oyster," "Club Foot Frank," "Cheating
Sheely," "Laughing Sam," "Pink Bedford," "CUff
Sane," "Frank ConneUy," "Bloody Dick," and many
others too numerous to mention.
In the late spring of 1876, I had occasion to make
a trip by stage from Deadwood to Custer City. My
companions consisted of a dance-haU girl, a Jew and
four other men, one of whom everybody called "Te
legraphy," he having constructed the telegraph line
from Fort Laramie to Deadwood. The stage left
Deadwood at ten o'clock P. M. About midnight we
were dozing while the stage was slowly ascending a
hill, the night not being very dark.
Presently the stage came to a sudden stop, awaken
ing the occupants, when a loud voice commanded:
"Hands up!" a shotgun pointing in one door and two
six-shooters in the other. This same voice, accom
panied by a great deal of profanity, ordered us to get
out with our hands up and stand in Une. This we
did in a remarkably short space of time. It is sur
prising how quickly one can move and how long one
can keep his hands up. The dance-hall girl became
hysterical and screeched. They paid no attention to
her. My position was in the middle of the line with
a road agent standing at each end and one standing
at the horses' heads, with his gun pointed at the
driver. The fourth one, with his six-shooter in his
left hand, performed the gentlemanly act of collecting

Page 199 HARDKNOCKS
our toU. This man, having no disguise, I readily rec
ognized him as an old teamster friend. We had driven
a team together for about two years. His name was
Jim Wall. My first thought was, "will he rob me?"
I had on my person five hundred dollars in greenbacks,
and at that particular time the loss of it would have
caused me considerable embarrassment. The Jew
begged piteously, asserting that he was dead broke,
and if they would not kill him, when he arrived in
Cheyenne he would send them five hundred dollars to
any place they might designate.
Wall laughed at the Jew and leisurely started feel
ing around his waist, and found a money belt (which
the Jew afterward claimed contained fifteen hundred
doUars). The Jew then collapsed, falUng on the
ground as dead. Wall then went through his pockets,
reUeving them of what small change they contained.
The next in line was Telegraphy. Wall, knowing him
and also knowing that Telegraphy was a hard whisky
drinker, remarked: "Telegraphy, you are not making
this trip without a bottle of whisky."
Telegraphy, in a clear voice, replied: "There is a
bottle under the cushion of the rear seat."
Wall ordered one of his men to get it, while he
himself went through Telegraphy's clothes as he had
done with the Jew's. WaU's confederate, handing him
the bottle, the former placed it at Telegraph's mouth
and said : "Sample it, I fear it may be doped."
Telegraphy, realizing that it would be his last
drink for some hours, grabbed the bottle with the in
tention of taking a large drink. Snatching the bottle
from his hand, WaU said: "Hands up, we wiU take
a chance at this." I assure the reader by this time it
was becoming very amusing to me, but still I could
not forget the thought — was I to lose my money!
WaU looked at me for a moment and playfully tapping

HARD KNOCKS Page 200
me under the chin with his six-shooter, remarked in
a low tone, "I see, old pal, you are also caught in the
net!" But he did not molest me. Passing on to the
last two men, he quickly relieved them of their cash
and valuables. He did not rob the girl. They then
took the Wells-Fargo strong box, which seemed to be
very heavy, and ordered us back into the stage, tell
ing the driver to drive on and not look back for thirty
minutes, bidding us "good night."
We then started. It was some time before the Jew
could talk and the first thing he did was to feel in his
boot legs, where was concealed five hundred dollars,
which Wall had overlooked.
In a short time my troubles began. The four men
openly charged me with standing in with the road
agents, which was a natural supposition, as Wall had
not robbed me. The Jew was the most pronounced in
his remarks and I was forced to stop his talk. I then
explained to the other men my previous acquaintance
with Wall. Telegraphy believed me, and soon con
vinced the others. My destination being only to Cus
ter City, on my getting out of the stage the Jew again
became furious, saying that I was going back to meet
the road agents and get my share of the spoils. I
believe today, if he is alive, he is still of the same
opinion. Many times I have heard men discussing what they
would do in case of being held up, but I can assure
you, dear reader, that they would do exactly as we
did by obeying the commands of the road agents.
Jim Wall was capured by the Pinkertons' agents
two years after I left that country and was sentenced
to Leavenworth Military Prison, having been tried on
the charge of robbing the United States mail. His
sentence was twenty-two years, and I understand he
died three years after his incarceration.

Monument of the Rev. Smith, the pioneer minister of Deadwood, S. D.,
erected by the citizens

Page 201 HARDKNOCKS

CHAPTER XXII.
SIOUX INDIANS STEALING THE MONTANA HERD-
SCALPING AN INDIAN— CALAMITY JANE— A ROAD
AGENT— THE CUSTER MASSACRE.
THERE were a great many saddle horses in
that country and feed being very high, it
made it very expensive to keep them in town.
Four young men conceived the idea of so-
Uciting the owners of these saddle horses and
agreeing for a certain sum of money per month, to
herd them on the open plains near Crook City. They
secured about two hundred of them and formed what
was called the Montana herd. One Sunday a man
came into Deadwood and in a very excited state told
us that a large band of Sioux had run off the Mon
tana herd, killing the four herders, the Indians having
sUpped up on them at daybreak.
This occurrence left very few horses in Deadwood.
Those there were used principsCUy for teaming pur
poses. However, we hurriedly formed a party, con
sisting of Carl Mann, Tom Dozier, Seith Bullock, Ed
MilUgan, Pat Kelly, John Varnes, Charley Storms, and
a man named Brown, who had high aspirations to be
appointed our first sheriff. These men, together with
about twenty others, including myself, started on the
Indian chase, who had gone to the north. Our horses
were not very good saddle horses, as we had taken
them out of the teams and livery stable. This placed
us at a disadvantage. We followed the Indians for
two days, not catching up with them. Our horses
became jaded and we decided to return. Tom Dozier
and I were riding side by side, considerably ahead ot
the balance, when I saw what appeared to be a large
wolf, in the bottom of a dry creek. I caUed ioms

HARD KNOCKS Page 202
attention to it, remarking that if it were not for the
noise made by our guns, it would be a fine shot. The
words were hardly out of my mouth when the sup
posed wolf (but in reality an Indian, who had been on
all fours digging with his hands in the creek bottom
for water) rose up and started for some taU, dense
plum bushes bordering the creek. We instantly gave
chase and surrounded the spot where we knew he was
concealed under a tree, the roots of which projected
over the bank. We fired a great many shots but it
was impossible to tell with what effect, as it was nec
essary to crawl through the plum bushes to get a view
of our quarry.
After some consultation, ambitious Brown sug
gested that three of us go in, he taking the lead,
Dozier and I foUowing in single file. We had not pro
ceeded far when the Indian shot, killing Brown. Dozier
and I retumed the fire, retreating at the same time to
the clear. All was quiet then and we could not tell
whether or not our shots had taken effect. One of
our party then volunteered to make a circuit, and
come around the back of the tree by crawUng on his
hands and knees. He had not been gone long when
we heard another shot, and on looking over, found
that he had been killed too. Some suggested that we
simultaneously rush the Indian's hiding place, while
others objected; and, as it was now getting dark, we
decided to surround the spot, wait for morning and
then fire the plum bushes and tall prairie grass, and
burn him out. Morning came. One of the party
crawling on his hands and knees to where Brown's
body lay, found that he had been scalped. Then go
ing to the other body, found that he, too, had been
scalped and that the Indian had made his escape dur
ing the night. How that wily Indian could have so
easily outwitted us, was a mystery to all. We secured

Page 203 HARDKNOCKS
the two bodies and returned to Deadwood, a tired and
disgusted lot.
In the latter part of August a report was circu
lated that a great strike had been made at the base of
what was called Sun Dance Mountain, situated about a
hundred miles northwest of Deadwood. Myself and
four others taking our saddle horses and a pack mule,
started on the stampede. Those with me were Pat
Kelly, Ed MilUgan, 'Tom Dozier and Johnnie Varnes.
We made KeUy captain. When going on dangerous
trips we always selected some one of the party to act
as captain, whose orders were obeyed to the letter.
KeUy was a fighting Irishman and was not afraid of
God, man or devU. The first night out an Indian
could have kiUed us aU with a butcher knife, as, having
imbibed pretty freely during the day, we were in
such condition that we slept like logs aU night.
Three days after we left Deadwood, MiUigan a,nd
myself were riding in advance about one-half mile.
In looking down on the ground, I saw fresh pony
tracks. We were about to ascend a hill at the time.
I said, "Ed, those ponies have not passed here an
hour. I can teU by the tracks, and if you will hold
my horse, I will crawl up to the top of this ridge or
hiU and see what I can discover."
He did so. I looked over and there were about
twenty-five Indians in the act of dismounting. They
had with them some fifty head of good looking horses.
I presumed they had stolen them. We started back
and met the balance of the boys and reported to them
what I had seen. Kelly, selecting a spot not far dis
tant, where we went into camp; unpacked our mule,
which had been packed with the outfit, and with our
shovels dug a hole large enough to hold four of us,
and a smaUer one big enough for one man, he to hold
the horses by their lariats, for we knew that we were
to have a fight on our hands.

HARD KNOCKS Page 204
We did not get ready any too soon, for they came
on the run, yelling as only Indians can yell. "Now,"
said Kelly, "don't fire a shot until I tell you."
We lay in our little fort with dirt thrown up as
breastworks. The Indians rode to within a hundred
or a hundred and fifty yards of us, then whirled and
fired; Kelly still warning us not to shoot until or
dered. A great trick of the Sioux is to get the whites
to shoot their ammunition away and then he has them
at his mercy. We had each forty rounds of ammuni
tion and the only thing about our position was that
we had no water. Otherwise, we had no fear of
standing them off. After shooting at us they would
again go back some distance and come again as be
fore. They made a good many such charges. Fin
ally two of their party, one a young fellow not more
than twelve years old, I should judge, began to come
a little nearer, shooting pretty close to us. The little
fellow did not have a gun, but was using his bow and
arrows. I said: "Kelly, I have always wanted to kiU
an Indian, and I wish you would let me have a shot
at one of those fellows."
KeUy replied: "You take the big fellow and I
wiU take the little one, if they come again."
I was delighted. They came again still closer than
before. Kelly gave the word and we both fired, I
hitting my man just under the ear and Kelly hitting
his in the body. My man fell to the ground as dead
as an oyster. Kelly's boy toppled over, but caught
his pony's mane, holding himself on and disappeared
behind a small hill, the others following. They seemed
to have had enough of it.
We waited fully two hours and did not see any
more of them. I then said to KeUy: "KeUy, I ran
away from home when I was fourteen years of age
with the intention of being a great Indian killer, and

Page 205 HARD KNOCKS
in all these years this is my first Indian, and I would
like very much to take his scalp. KeUy agreed to my
doing so.
We then aU saddled up, riding up to the dead In
dian, Kelly and I dismounting; I holding the scalp
lock while Kelly cut it off. We did not make as fine
a job of it as an Indian would have done, but I was
satisfied. I had a scalp. Kelly took his war bonnet,
MilUgan his breech-clout, Varnes his moccasins and
Dozier his gun. We then started for Deadwood. We
had had enough of the stampeding business to last a
while. We shared in the venture and trophies of war,
but arrived in Deadwood with no gold.
I will now give you the balance of the history of
that great female character. Calamity Jane.
Jane and I had not met since the return of the
Jenny expedition to Fort Laramie, until one night
when I was sitting in Jim Pencil's saloon playing faro
bank someone tapped me on the shoulder. Looking
around, I saw whom I supposed to be a young man
dressed in buckskin, with a broad brimmed hat and
two six-shooters. Turning again to the table I re
sumed my playing, when I was touched on the shoul
der again. I then tumed again and asked, "What do
you want?"
The reply was, "HeUo, Young, you know d— well
you tried to drown me in Spring Creek."
It was Calamity Jane. She was alluding to the
Jenny expedition episode, when I had upset the wagon
with her in it. Her language was very profane and
her love for whisky equalled that of any hard drinker.
I asked her how she was fixed financiaUy. She an
swered, "Dead broke." I gave her a five-doUar green
back, when she immediately proceeded to celebrate,
and in a short time she was in a wild state of intoxica
tion. She was then dubbed a good fellow and admitted
as a member of the pioneer characters of Deadwood.

HARD KNOCKS Page 206
Her habits were thoroughly masculine. She danced with
the dance-halls girls, as the balance of us did, asso
ciated with the men and showed no female traits
whatever. ^,
Swarringer, who kept the dance hall, was sorely
in need of some new girls and employed Calamity to
white slave for him. Fitting her out with a team,
wagon and cooking utensils, he sent her to Nebraska
to get a new supply of girls. At this business she was
a huge success, the result of her first trip being ten
girls. She had captivated them with exaggerated
stories of the immense wealth in the Black Hills and
the large amount of money to be made. She tumed
them over to Swarringer, retaining charge of them
herself, educating and instructing them, and was in
reality their friend as far as imposition was concerned.
On one of her white slave trips she was stopped by
the noted road agent, Jim Wall, and his confederates.
She became enamored with one of the gang named
Blackburn, who prevailed upon her to go with them.
On her return to Deadwood she turned the team over
to Swarringer and disappeared. A year later three of
the gang were captured, and with them Calamity Jane.
They were taken to Laramie City for trial, in the
meantime being confined in a log jail, from which they
made an attempt to escape by digging their way out
under the jail, but were quickly recaptured while yet
in the town. Her companions received long sentences,
but for some unexplained reason. Calamity was not
prosecuted. She lived for many years in various towns
and mining camps in that country, following various
occupations. She finally drifted back to Deadwood,
entirely broken in body and spirits, and after a linger
ing illness of two years, during which all of her ex
penses were defrayed by the big-hearted town people,
she passed away on August 2, 1906. On the same
day and month, and the same hour. Wild Bill was

Page 207 HARDKNOCKS
assassinated thirty years before. Her dying request
was that she be buried by the side of Wild Bill, which
was granted. And she now reposes by the side of him
whom she had for years greatly admired. May the
Supreme Ruler of the Universe forgive their faults,
for they had many virtues.
I wiU now give the reader a little inside history of
the massacre of that great man. General Custer, and
his regiment.
The news of this massacre was brought into Dead-
wood by courier, where I happened to be at the time.
From there it was telegraphed aU over the world.
Much has been written regarding this massacre, but
it is all surmise, as no one escaped except one Crow
Indian scout, and his account of the massacre was so
muddled as to prove of no importance whatever; ad
mitting himself that he was in the rocks \vhen the
massacre occurred and that he did not see it at aU.
The Sioux who did take part in it, on being ques
tioned, gave very conflicting accounts of it, and be
ing such infemal Uars, drew on their imagination to
a large extent, so that no satisfaction was to be had
from them.
Personally, I was very sorry to Ieam of the trouble
between General Custer and the powers at Washing
ton, for the General was a very fine soldier, both dur
ing the Civil and Indian wars, and I felt that in recog
nition of his past services, his faults should have been
overlooked to a large extent; but such appears not
to have been the case.
In the late sixties there was a scandal in the fron
tier post known as the Belknap whisky case. Custer
was among the officers summoned to Washington to
give testimony regarding the scandal, and in a tranK,
straightforward manner, told the truth. This met
with disfavor among certain high officials. Later on
Fred Grant graduated from West Point, and, owing

HARD KNOCKS Page 208
to the prominence of his father, was promoted from
a second lieutenant to a lieutenant-colonel, being ap
pointed on General Sheridan's staff, Custer expressed
himself very freely on this rapid promotion, which
placed him doubly wrong in the minds of the powers
at Washington. Then it was decided that Custer must
be humiliated. The opportunity presented itself to carry out Gen
eral Custer's humiUation during the Sioux war in
1876. General Miles was in command, and on two
different occasions, Custer disobeyed orders. For
these offenses he was to be court-martialed, and none
knew this better than Custer himself; but he, being
far in advance of the main command, it was difficult
to get word to him to report at headquarters. Before
he could be reached, his Crow Indian scouts reported
a large band of Sioux on the Little Rose Bud River.
Here Custer thought he saw his opportunity to win a
big battle, one that would make him so popular and
his standing such, as to recall the court martiaUing.
He hurriedly consulted General Reno and formed a
plan of attack. Reno with his command was to at
tack from the south, and Custer from the north, sim
ultaneously. Shortly after separating, a large body
of Sioux intercepted Reno, who, instead of showing
fight, went into camp; but Custer, hearing the shoot
ing, hurried on to fulfiU his part, not knowing that
Reno had gone into camp. After the Indians had
stopped Reno, they immediately joined the main band.
Custer made the charge, and not getting the assis
tance he expected from Reno, was annihilated with his
brave followers, the seventh cavalry. Had Reno not
shown the white feather but fought his way through,
Custer and many of his command might have been
alive today. Reno, having great influence at Wash
ington, was not court-martiaUed for his cowardice, but
was requested to resign, which he did.

-jK

" '

The death ot Wild Bill, Aug. 2. 1876, at Deadwood, S. D. (Sketch)

Page 209 HARDKNOCKS

CHAPTER XXIII.
THE FIRST SERMON IN DEADWOOD— FATE OF THE
PREACHER— HE LOST BOTH HAIR AND GOLD DUST
—WILD AND WOOLLY TIMES— THE INDIAN'S HEAD
ON THE TOWN FLAGSTAFF— THE STORMS-VARNES
DUEL— DEATH OF WILD BILL.
ONE Sunday there came walking into Dead-
wood an old man wearing a black slouched
hat, a long, black coat, and holding in one
hand a Bible. The old fellow was a preacher,
of what denomination, I cannot state. No
one there seemed to know where he came from. It
being the Lord's Day, many miners had come into
town to spend their gold dust. The preacher, think
ing he might save a few souls, stopped in front of
Jim Pencil's saloon, and standing on an empty box,
began to preaeh. A large crowd gathered around the
old fellow, listening to him very reverently. In the
crowd were four or five dance-haU girls. This being
the first preaching we had heard, it interested us very
much. 'The old feUow held his hat in his left hand
and his Bible in his right. He had not been preaching
very long, when Calamity Jane, dressed in her buck-
akin attire and in an intoxicated condition, snatched
his old hat from his hand, and turning to the crowd,
addressed them thus:
"You sinners, dig down in your pokes, now; this
old fellow looks as though he were broke and I want
to collect about two hundred dollars for him. So lim
ber up, boys."
She then started through the crowd and collected
two hundred and thirty-five doUars in gold dust..
While collecting, the old man was stiU preaching.
Calamity attempted to interrupt him by presenting

HARD KNOCKS Page 210
him with his hat and gold dust. He motioned her
aside. This offended her, and looking at him for a
moment, she said:
"You d — old fool, take the money first and then
proceed with your preaching."
I beUeve this shortened his sermon some, for he
soon announced that he was going down to Crook City
at the foothills, ten miles below Deadwood. Jack
McAUer, or Black Jack, told him that there were two
routes to get there, one down the canyon and one by
ascending the hill, then down the open plain; also
told him that the Indians were bad and advised him
to take the canyon route. The old man thanked him;
and looking heavenward, said: "I trust in God, I
know He will protect me."
Black Jack replied, "God is all right, but take my
advice, parson," and offered a six-shooter to the old
fellow, which the latter refused to touch. The parson
then informed us he was going the hill route. Tying
the gold dust in an old bandana handkerchief, he
started up the hillside. When near the top, we saw
him stop, and turning around facing us, he extended
both hands in the air as though he were blessing us,
then disappeared over, the hill.
In about three hours two men arrived in town
very much excited, stating that they had found the
body of an old man killed and scalped, with a gun shot
in his back and an arrow piercing his neck. We knew
at once it was the parson. Going out there, we found
the body minus the gold dust. We brought him in, and
buried him on a flat in the rear of the Montana sa
loon. Later we learned that he was the Revemed
Hiram Weston Smith. He was the first man to plant
the seed of Christianity in the Black Hills. I under
stand that there are now five churches in Deadwood.
The citizens of Deadwood eight years later moved the

Page 211 HARDKNOCKS
body to a new cemetery and erected a. monument to
his memory, with the inscription: "Here Unes the
Reverend Hiram Weston Smith, killed by Indians,
August 22, 1876, — the Pioneer Preacher of the Black
HiUs." The Sioux Indians were very troublesome to the
residents of Deadwood. Coming from the plains, they
would secret themselves behind rocks on the ridge top
and shoot into town. The citizens finally offered a
reward of five hundred doUars for the first Indian
scalp brought into Deadwood. Two Mexicans, wend
ing their way by the hill route to Deadwood, having
started from Crook City, killed an Indian, who was
about twenty-five years, of age, I should judge. In
stead of scalping him, they cut his head off, carrying
it by the scalp lock and walked into town. A great
crowd followed them into the saloon where I worked.
I had my back to the entrance of the saloon, and
upon hearing the commotion I suddenly tumed around,
and on the bar sat the Indian head, the Mexican hold
ing it there with his hands. The face was painted,
the upper side with little black dots, and the
lower portion red. In his ears he wore ear rings, and
he had been quite hansome for an Indian. The Mexi
can asked me where he was to receive the reward.
Just then Black Jack stepped up, teUing him that he
would pay the money, which he did, suggesting that
we have a celebration, and to which the crowd agreed.
We then started on a visit to aU the saloons. Jack
and Calamity Jane led the way. Jack carrying the
head and Calamity doing the yelling, haranguing the
crowd. Our tour included aU the dance halls and
business houses, and we kept this performance up all
night. AU having imbibed freely, when morning came
Calamity suggested that we hoist the head up on the
flagstaff, which had previously been erected. We

HARD KNOCKS Page 212
started our procession to the upper end of town, and
there never had been and never will be such a scene
enacted on earth again. When we arrived at the des
ignated spot, they attached the flag halyard to the
scalp lock and with a whoop. Calamity and Jack
hoisted it up. We then formed a great circle around
the flagstaff and no body of Sioux Indians ever equaled
that war dance. This lasted for a solid hour, when
they lowered it down and buried it. This ended the
grand celebration of the Indian's head.
The following morning a man notified us that he
had found the bodies of the two Mexicans who had
killed and brought this Indian head into town. They
were lying close together, each with a six-shooter in
his right hand, with an empty chamber in each gun.
We concluded that they had quarreled over the distri
bution of the five hundred doUars and had shot at
one another about the same time, killing each other.
We buried them alongside the Indian head. This was
a remarkable coincident.
Two gamblers named Charley Storms and Johnnie
Varnes, while playing cards, had a misunderstanding.
Both being brave men, they agreed to go out on the
street and fight a duel with six-shooters. Varnes car
ried the first double-acting gun I ever saw, called a
Whistler. It was of English make. It was quite short
and shot a very large calibre ball. Storms carried a
Colts forty-five.
Standing in Une, Varnes' position being near the
running gear of a wagon, rested this gun on the top
of the wagon wheel, shooting at Storms very rapidly.
Storms shooting but two shots at Varnes, both strik
ing the wagon tire below Varnes' head, bounding over
it. This saved Varnes. One of Varnes' shots struck
a German in the hip. The German was standing about
twenty steps out of line, but Varnes' gun being so

Page 213 HARDKNOCKS
short and of such heavy calibre, shot anywhere rather
than where he pointed it. When Varnes' gun was
emptied he threw up his hands, telling Storms so.
The latter replied, "Go get a better gun. You can
not hit a barn door with that one."
In the meantime friends interferred, stopping the
duel, and they afterward became great friends. Poor
Storms was killed years later in Tombstone, Arizona,
by Luke Short, a faro dealer. Varnes died in Den
ver, Colorado, an opium fiend, and thus ended two
brave men.
About the middle of June there arrived in Dead-
wood my old frend, "Wild Bill." Accompanying him
was Charley Utter, commonly known as Colorado
Charley, They were mounted and a more picturesque
sight could not be imagined than Wild BiU on horse
back. This character had never been north of Chey
enne before this, for he originated in the south, as
previously stated. Many in Deadwood knew him, hav
ing met him before ; others knew him only by reputa-
tionfi particularly those who came from Montana.
Among these Montana people were a good many
men of note. I mean by that, gun men, and the ar
rival of this character in town caused quite a com
motion. They rode up to the saloon where I was
working, both of them having known Carl Mann be
fore; he being a great friend of BiUs', they naturally
called on him first. They dismounted and walked into
the saloon, great crowds following them until the
room was packed. Mann cordiaUy received them, ask
ing them to make this saloon their headquarters,
which they agreed to do. This meant money to Mann,
as BiU would be a great drawing card.
After the excitement of Bill's arrival had sub
sided a little, BiU looked at me a few moments, then

HARD KNOCKS Page 214
said: "Kid, here you are again, Uke the bad penny,
but I am awfully glad to see you." And turning to
Carl Mann, remarked: "I first met this kid in Hayes
City, Kansas, and wherever I go, he seems to precede
me or to follow me, for I have met him in AbeUne, Ells
worth, Cheyenne, and now again here; but he is a
good boy and you can trust him. Take my word for
that." Bill's occupation at this time was that of a gam
bler. Since I had last seen him, he seemed to have
changed greatly and tried very hard to avoid notori
ety, conducting himself in a very gentlemanly man
ner, but unfortunately his past reputation was stiU a
matter of public comment. Consequently, he was sub-
ected to a great deal of criticism, pro and con. At
this time there were many gun fighters in Deadwood,
the majority of which hailed from Montana. Knowing
Bill only by reputation, they misjudged him to a
marked degree. To have the reader more clearly un
derstand their relative positions to each other, I will
say that BiU had attained much the same reputation
as a prize fighter who had successfully sent all of his
opponents down to defeat and become the acknowl
edged champion. Professional gun fighters in those
days aspired to kiU any one of their number who had
the record of being their superior, and by thus doing,
claimed the so-called championship.
One night in June a party of six Montana men
congregated in the Montana saloon and engaged in a
general spirited talk of criticism, the target of their
remarks being BiU. A friend of his happened to be
in the saloon and lost no time in going to the Sixty-
six saloon where he found BiU, and told him what he
had heard. In supreme disgust, Bill went immediately
to the Montana saloon and walking up to the crowd,
remarked :

Page 215 HARDKNOCKS
"I understand that you cheap, would-be gun fight
ers from Montana have been making remarks about
me, and I want you all to understand that unless they
are stopped there will shortly be a number of cheap
funerals in Deadwood. I have come to this town not
to court notoriety or vilUanous talk, but to Uve in
peace, and no not propose to stand for your insults."
Having thus declared himself, BiU ordered the en
tire six to Une up against the wall and deliver up their
guns, which they quickly did in a very sheepish man
ner. BiU had accompUshed his purpose without the
flash of a gun on his part. Backing out of the saloon,
he leisurely walked down the street to the Sixty-six
saloon and resumed his seat at the card table. This
act, of course, became the talk of the town.
Seeing much of BiU every d^ and being a very
close observer, I became familiar with many of his
characteristics, some of which are worthy of special
mention. In drinking at a bar, BiU invariably poured out
the whisky with his left hand, his right being free
for possible emergency. He was careful to face all
with whom he was drinking, and under no circum
stances would he chance any one being behind him.
In a card game he always sat with his back to the
waU. I have often thought of the constant uneasiness
that he must have felt at all times.
There was also the comic side to Bill's nature,
which asserted itself in his jovial moods, and his
stories at such times made up by himself, for he was
a great story teUer, were highly entertaining. I will
narrate two of them as related to us. On this oc
casion BiU had been asked for a story by a crowd who
knew him by reputation only and appreciated the
fact that his stories would be a rare treat. BiU re
sponded as foUows:

HARD KNOCKS Page 216
"Some years ago in the Indian territory I was
scouting for General Custer, and getting up into south
western Kansas, which was a new country to me at
that time, I was riding quite a distance ahead of the
command, when I saw an opening about two feet wide
which seemed to run into a bluff. I thought I would
explore this. On closer examination I found this pas
sageway about ten feet long. Passing through it I
discovered that it led to a large, open space of con
siderable area and was surrounded on all sides by a
wall. I remarked to myself, what a great protection
from Indians this would be if one were hard pressed, —
the entrance being so narrow, one could secrete hira
self on the inside and kill any number of them, as
they could only enter one at a time. I was armed with
a six-shooter and also a large knife. The thought had
hardly passed through my brain, when in looking at
the entrance I saw an Indian approaching. Knowing
he was hostile, I shot him. Another came; I also
shot him. They kept coming one by one until I had
discharged the six shots that my gun contained. In
those days we used the powder and baU six-shooters,
with caps on the nipples. Not having any extra am
munition with me, I was unable to reload. More In
dians kept coming. I then drew my knife from my
belt and backed up against the wall at the farther
end, while in the meantime the open space became
crowded with Indians."
Here, BiU stopped telling the story. One of the
many listeners, however, asked him what he did then,
BiU hesitated a moment, then replied:
"What could I do? There were many of them,
weU armed, and I had only my knife,"
"WeU, then," questioned his interrogator, "what
did they do?"
Bill gave a long sigh, saying: "By God, they
kiUed me, boys!"

m4| q

Page 217 HARDKNOCKS

For a few moments they did not seem to see the
joke, but soon began laughing. One of them asked
the crowd up to the bar to drink. Bill whispering to
me: "Kid, that's one time I had to die."
I repUed, "Why didn't you unfold your wings and
fly?" He said the next time he told that story he would
escape in that manner.
At another time Bill told the foUowing story: He
was riding along one day in the mountains in Colorado
and was about to cross an open space, when he heard
a loud noise behind him. Looking back, he saw a
great snake about fifty feet long, with a head re
sembling a man's — having the nose, mouth and chin
of a man, also a pair of legs, which looked very much
like a man's arms; its breast and stomach both re
sembled those of a man also. It was a vicious looking
reptile. His horse scenting it, became frightened and
ran away with him. The faster the horse ran, the
closer this reptile approached, convincing Bill that it
would soon catch up with him. Turning in his saddle,
he shot the reptile dead. Quieting his horse, he dis
mounted and with his gun in hand ready for immediate
use, he walked back to examine the reptile, and found
that it reaUy had a stomach Uke a human being. He
could not carry it with him to camp, so cut the head
off; then opening the stomach, found in there eight
hundred and seventy-five dollars worth of gold dust.
This was a gold eating snake. Now he was in a
quandry, not daring to take the head back with him
as he might be compelled to give up the gold, so he
decided to cover it up with earth at a nearby bluff.
Going to the nearest town, he displayed this gold dust,
not teUing where he had procured it, but the people
then began prospecting for gold in Colorado and dis-

HARD KNOCKS Page 218
covered it in paying quantities. And this gold eating
snake should have the credit for the discovery. "This
is the first time I have ever told the secret," added Bill.
I thought the listeners would explode with
laughter, which pleased Bill very much.
Early one morning two days before Bill's assass
ination, he walked into the Sixty-six saloon. We were
alone at the time and I noticed he looked very dejected.
I remarked, "Bill, you are not looking very weU this
moming." "No," he replied. "I have a feeling that something
is going to happen to me."
I remarked, "Bill, you are drinking too much."
"No," he answered, "that has nothing to do with
it. I have had this feeling for two weeks, but know
I will never be killed by any one in front of me and if it
does come, it will be from the back. Now, I want you
to do something for me. Step out here and walk
backward until I teU you to stop." I did so until he
told me to halt. This being a very peculiar request on
his part, I asked him the reason for it. He told me
that his eye sight was failing him, and he wanted to
satisfy himself as to the distance that he could dis
tinguish a man. He then said: "Two steps before you
stopped, I could plainly recognize you, after which I
could see nothing but a blur. Don't mention this
circumstance to any one as I do not care to have it
known." To give the reader some idea of the rapidity and
accuracy with which Bill could shoot— first bear in
mind that six shooters in his time were not cartridge
guns nor were they double action. One had to load them
with powder and ball and place caps on the nipples
attached to the cylinders, and had to cock the hammer
each time he shot.

Page 219 HARDKNOCKS
In 1868 he was riding from Hays City to Fort
Hays, in company with General Custer. In passing a
telegraph pole BiU remarked to Custer, "General, would
you beUeve that I could ride past one of these poles
on the run and shoot six shots into it with my six
shooter and that you could cover the space where I
hit it with the palm of your hand?"
"No," Custer replied, "no man could accomplish
such a feat." BiU put spurs to his horse, and when
opposite a pole, shot six shots into it, and sure enough
on examination, Custer found he had hit it six times,
and that he could cover the spot with his hand. When
they arrived at the Fort, Custer had a tin sign made,
verifying the fact, and had the sign nailed to the pole.
If the reader should at any time visit Hays, Kansas,
he wiU find the pole stiU there, the citizens of Hays
having had it cemented in the ground. They keep it
in preservation as an old time relic of this wonderful
character. On the night of August 1st, 1867, he was playing
cards with a miner named Jack McCaU, who was a
worthless character and decidedly repulsive, being
cross-eyed to such an extent that it was hard to tell
which way he was looking. On the morning of the
2nd, I came on watch, reUeving the night man, and
found them stiU playing cards. The night man told
me they had been playing since midnight and that Mc
CaU was about broke, at the same time showing me
McCaU's sack of gold dust that lay behind the bar.
Presently BiU asked me how much dust was in the
sack. I weighed it and told him one hundred and
seven doUars worth,
BiU then remarked to McCaU: "You have over
played yourself by ten doUars."
McCaU repUed, "All right, I wiU make it good next
Saturday night."

HARD KNOCKS Page 220
This ended the game, McCall saying "I have not
got money enough to buy my breakfast." BiU handed
him seventy-five cents in shinplasters, teUing him to
go and eat; also telling him that if he got hungry
again later in the day, he would help him out. They
then had a parting drink together, and McCaU left the
saloon. About one-thirty in the aftemoon, Carl Mann,
Charley Rich and Captain Massey engaged in a poker
game. Bill, in company with Charley Utter sauntered
in and was invited by Mann to make the game four-
handed. Bill joined them, but before doing so re
quested Rich, who was sitting with his back to the
wall, to give him his seat. Knowing BiU's habits.
Rich rose to comply, when Captain Massey, from
whom Bill had won some money a few nights before,
spoke up and said that he preferred to have Bill sit
opposite him, remarking: "No one is going to shoot
you in the back."
BiU repUed, "All right, you old grouch, I wiU sit
here," at the same time pulUng out the stool with
his foot, from under the table, sitting down on it.
Mann sat on BiU's left. Rich on his right and Massey
opposite. Bill facing the front entrance to the saloon,
with his back exposed to the rear entrance. They had
been playing not to exceed twenty minutes, when
Massey beat a king fuU for Bill with four sevens,
breaking BiU on the hand. They were playing table
stakes. Bill then asked me to bring him fifty doUars
worth of checks, which I did. Charley Utter, who
had been sitting by Bill's side a little back of him,
remarked: "BiU, I will go and get something to eat."
I placed the checks on the table in front of Bill, stand
ing as I did so between him and Carl Mann. BiU
looked up at me and remarked : "The old duffer (mean
ing Massey) broke me on the hand." These were the
last words he ever uttered.

Page 221 HARDKNOCKS
There was a loud report, foUowed by the words,
"Take that." McCaU had shot him in the back of the
head with a forty-five Colts six-shooter, the ball
coming out under the right cheek bone, and piercing
the wrist of Captain Massey, who had his hand around
his checks that he had just won from BiU.
Massey was the first to run out to the street,
shouting that Wild Bill had shot him. He did not
know differently until some time afterward. No one
being armed at the time, we all rushed out to the
street, McCall following. The latter tried to make his
escape on a horse, which was tied to a hitching rack
in front of the door. The cinch of the saddle having
been loosened, when he attempted to mount the horse,
the saddle turned with him. He then ran out into the
middle of the street. By this time a large crowd had
gathered, which surrounded him. With six-shooter
in his hand, McCall pointed first at one and then
another, but not shooting. Those in the crowd who
were armed were afraid to shoot at him for fear of
shooting each other, A man named Tom Mulquinn
grasped him from behind, pinned his arms while the
others disarmed him. They then took him back into
the saloon where the body lay and asked him a few
questions, which he refused to answer. They finaUy
took him to a log cabin in the rear of the saloon. All
was excitement. Some wanted to hang him, others
to shoot him, but wiser heads prevailed and an in
vestigation was agreed upon. He was kept under
guard for three days and then given a miner's trial
in the opera house. Selecting twelve men as a jury,
a man to prosecute and another to defend him, for
by this time, on account of BiU's past reputation, the
citizens split into two factions, one of which sympa
thized with McCaU and the other faction with Bill.
After the witnesses had been examined, McCall
took the stand in his own defense and told in a

HARD KNOCKS Page 222
straightforward manner that BiU had killed his
brother, Sam Strawhan, in Riley's saloon at Hayes
City, Kansas, in 1868, while he was a soldier at Fort
Hayes; that he had promised his widowed mother on
her death bed he would follow Bill as long as he lived
till he got a chance to kill him, and knowing Bill's
reputation for quickness with a gun, knew that his
only chance was to slip up behind him. He admitted
that he had kiUed Bill, was glad of it, and would do
the same thing over again if he had to. The jury
beUeved the statement and acquitted him.
McCall left Deadwood that same night, going to
Laramie City on the Union Pacific railroad, and there
boasted of the killing of Wild Bill. A friend of Bill's
telegraphed to Jeff Carr at Cheyenne, then United
States Marshal of Wyoming, who arrested McCall. He
was taken to Yankton, South Dakota, tried before
the United States Court, convicted and hanged.
On the scaffold McCall denied the previous state
ment that Strawhan was his brother and admitted
that he had told the story to fool the Deadwood
miners. He said that he was a deserter from the 7th
cavalry, but that he was in Hayes City at the time Bill
kiUed Strawhan, and that he did not know why he
killed Bill, as he had never done him any harm. His
hanging was spectacular. A scaffold was erected on
the open prairie and thousands of people from miles
around witnessed the execution.
Wild Bill's body was buried with his head resting
near a large pine stump, on which was blazed the
foUowing inscription: "Here Ues the body of Wild
Bill, murdered by Jack McCaU, August the 2nd, 1876."
Underneath this the words: "Custer was lonesome
without you."
The funeral was a very large one, and very im
pressive; all the stores, saloons and dance-halls being

Page 223 HARDKNOCKS
closed out of respect to the greatest character of his
day. Eight years later the citizens of Deadwood moved
aU the bodies of the dead to a new cemetery. On
exhuming BiU's body, his entire left side was found to
be petrified. BiU's body and that of Parson Smith
were buried side by side, and monuments erected over
them as a mark of honor and respect. And to this
day, I am told, on the second day of August, the beUs
are tolled in Deadwood. Two monuments were made
for BiU. The first one was completely destroyed by
being chipped by tourists and curio hunters. The
present monument is protected by a steel wire en
closure. Wild BiU didn't in his career as a marshal impose
on men because he was such. I wiU sight an instance.
While at Hayes City, one Hughie Teets kept a butcher
shop in that town, and had some hot words with BiU,
finally saying, "BiU, if you wiU put your guns away I
wiU fight you a fist fight."
"AU right," repUed BiU, handing his guns to a
friend. They went at it hammer and tongs. First Bill
would have the best of it, and again Hughie. FinaUy
Hughie backed BiU up against the sidewalk, which was
about four feet higher than the street. Bending Bill
back against the walk, he was pounding him unmerci
fully, when outsiders interfered. Hughie would not
quit unless Bill would cry enough. This BiU refused
to do. FinaUy the crowd, fearing that Hughie would
break BiU's back, puUed him off BiU, who arose quietly
putting his hands against his back, saying, "Hughie,
you came d  near breaking my back, but I still
think I am the better man, and when I fuUy recover
from this scrap, I will fight you again, but it will be on
the prairie where there are no sidewalks."

HARD KNOCKS Page 224
Hughie replied, "All right. Bill, I will be ready any
time you feel like it." Some weeks after Bill called
on Hughie, and said, "I have thought this matter over
and have concluded to call it off, as I believe you are as
good a man as I." This ended the matter. Hughie
now resides in Portland, Oregon, hale and hearty at
76 years of age.

Page 225 HARDKNOCKS

CHAPTER XXIV.
PERILS OF THE TRAIL— A RIDE WITH DISPATCHES—
THE HORSE A FAITHFUL SENTINEL— COMIC HAP
PENINGS IN DEADWOOD.
A BOUT the middle of August there arrived in
/% Deadwood a courier with dispatches from
Z— « General Miles' command. This fellow had
A ,^ ridden some four hundred miles and was very
sick with mountain fever. Being unable to
continue his joumey to Fort Laramie, and it
being necessary to get those dispatches to their des
tination, he tried to secure someone to carry them
through. Hearing of this, I received permission from
Mr. Mann to make the trip to Fort Laramie, where I
had some business I wanted to attend to.
The courier gave me the dispatches and an order
on the commanding officer for one hundred dollars;
this amount was to be deducted from the money he
was to receive. In making these rides one is com
peUed to ride nights, laying up in the day time,
owing to the Indians being bad. I left Deadwood at
nine o'clock P. M., and rode until just before day
break. After watering my horse, I staked him out
by driving a large picket pin in the ground, attaching
to it a forty foot lariat tied to the horse's neck. This
gave him space enough tq graze. I then took my
saddle, bridle and saddle blanket, going off some five
hundred yards from the horse, where I lay down to
sleep — or, to try to sleep. With the thought of
danger in mind, I did not expect to sleep soundly.
The reason for my getting some distance away from
the horse I will explain:
If an Indian or Indians discovered a horse, they
would straightway look for the owner and by being
hidden in this manner, one would be less Uable to dis-

HARD KNOCKS Page 226
covery and had a better chance of defending himself,
as a Sioux Indian did not care to take an even chance,
and would be more likely to take the horse than to
hunt for its rider. Before approaching the horse in
the evening about dusk, the rider arose carefully,
looking at the horse and if he were lying down or
grazing, the rider could be pretty certain that there
were no Indians in very close proximity to him. On
the other hand, if he were looking in any particular
direction, and scented danger, he would throw his
ears forward and if convinced that the object he was
looking at was an Indian, he would run at top speed
around the picket pin, trying to escape. It would be
then that the rider must look out for himself. If
any of these things did not happen, he would walk
over to the horse, saddle him, water him, and resume
his journey.
It is wonderful when one is out with these animals,
how attached they become. There were times when I
would walk up to my horse, that he would nicker in a
low tone and rub his nose against me in a very know
ing manner. Meaning, I presume, "I am glad to see
you." The third night out on this trip, the night being
very dark, I was riding through Red Canyon at a rapid
pace. This was a very dangerous part of the road, as
the canyon was deep and one each side very rocky
hills; along the water's edge large wiUows grew, the
road crossing a stream at four different points.
Suddenly my horse shied, snorted and stopped, and
came very near unseating me. I tried to urge him
on but he would not move. Dismounting, and holding
him by the bridle rein, I walked a step or two and
found lying in their blankets, on the ground, a man
and woman, kiUed and scalped. The Indians must
have crawled upon them while they were asleep,
as I saw no signs of a struggle. Hurriedly mounting
my horse, I went on untU I reached the end of the

Page 227 HARDKNOCKS

canyon, where there was a company of soldiers sta
tioned to escort teams through this canyon and pro
tect them, I told them of what I had seen and
remained there during the day. About ten o'clock in
the morning they brought the bodies there and found
in addition to what I saw, another body — that of a
negro woman. She too had been killed and scalped.
I arrived in Fort Laramie in due time, delivering my
dispatches and coUecting my money. I remained there
three days, returning to Deadwood with some
freighters who were hauling freight. We had a very
pleasant trip.
Combined with a rough occurrences in Deadwood,
we also had many innocent amusements, some of
which were very comical. I have spoken of a char
acter named Cheating Sheely, so named on account
of his being a great cheat at cards. It was utterly
impossible for him to play cards for money or fun
without cheating. He was our porter in the saloon,
and received his pay every night — ^five dollars. He
would then leave the saloon looking for some easy
victim with whom to play cards. Cheeting Sheely
invariably lost, as he was so busy cheating that he
neglected to watch the actions of his opponents, who
could also cheat, in many cases. However, one night
he found an easy game in which he won three hundred
doUars in gold dust. He now thought he had all the
money in Deadwood. In order to win this he was
compelled to play aU night. When showing up at the
saloon in the morning, he was so sleepy that he could
scarcely keep his eyes open. The news of his winning
was weU known around the saloon. About three
o'clock in the afternoon, he lay down on a bench at
the rear of the room, taking off his coat and vest,
which contained his money, and folding them up,
placed them under his head for a piUow. Carl Mann,
who was a great practical joker, seeing him sleeping

HARD KNOCKS Page 228
there, concluded to give him a scare, and if possible
get possession of his gold. Gathering aU the stools
that we had in the house (we did not have chairs in
those days), he piled them up over Sheely in such
a manner that if he moved they would faU. Mann
then took his six-shooter and fired it through the open
back door. ^
Sheely being an awful coward and having a great
fear of a six-shooter, when the report aroused him,
suddenly jumped up, knocking over the stools, rushing
out of the back door, calUng out that he had been shot.
Carl Mann then hurriedly took his poke of dust from
his coat, substituting one of the same size, containing
brass filings and other material. In a short time
Sheely retumed and picking up his coat, extracted the
poke, saying it was a wonder some one had not stolen
it. He then went off to bed without examining the
contents. He returned in about an hour, his face as
white as marble, exhibited the poke, and showed us its
contents. We all laughed. Carl Mann told him to go
after the fellow he had played cards with, as he was
sure it was he who had buncoed him. For two days
he hunted for this man. Carl Mann, being afraid
Sheely would go crazy, returned his money.
Another character. Pink Bedford, was a very fine
poker player, and if sober, was capable of winning
large sums of money. But poor Pink would go on
periodical sprees, lasting until he would finaUy become
sick. Carl Mann was much interested in this man and
tried in many ways to keep him straight, but always
failing. Finally he concluded that he would have a
joke on him.
Procuring a ladder about twenty-five feet long,
Carl Mann and two others lashed Pink on it, with his
feet resting on a round of the ladder, his arms being
lashed to the side, allowing him space enough to bend
his head over. They then took the ladder out in the

Page 229  HARD KNOCKS
street, setting it up against the building. When Pink
sobered up a Uttle, he could not understand where he
was and began to yell. Mann ran out and threw a
bucket of water in his face. This revived him very
much, Mann then addressed him thus: "You must
promise me that you will not drink whiskey again for
six months and you must swear that you will not,"
Pink took some horrible oaths, one of them being that
he hoped God would paralyze him if he took another
drink of whiskey for six months.
They then carried him to the rear of the dance-
haU, standing the ladder against the door which
opened in. The dance-haU girls lived in this end of
the building. The manager, or bouncer as he was
termed, stepping outside, hollered to the girls to come
out there quick. When they opened the door, the
ladder and Pink, naturaUy feU in on them. This
frightened them very much. Pink begged for dear
Ufe to be released, but before doing so, they carried
him through the dance-haU, finaUy bringing him over
to the saloon and releasing him.
Pink then behaved himself for about two weeks.
One day, however, on going into the Montana saloon,
one of his friends saw him setting a glass down on
the bar, having just taken a drink. This friend then
said to him : "Take a drink with me."
Looking at his friend a moment, he said: "Do not
tempt me. Don't you know I have sworn off drinking
whiskey." His friend then said: "Take a cigar or something
soft?" Pink, tuming to the barkeeper, asked him to give
him a drink of gin. Carl Mann, hearing of this,
immediately went after him, reminding him of the
oaths he had taken. After looking at Mann a few

HARD KNOCKS Page 230
moments, he said: "It was gin I drank, and I have no
recollection of taking an oath only that I would not
take a drink of whiskey for six months, which I
intend to keep." This amused Mann very much. Poor
Pink could not keep away from the booze, which was
his undoing.
In front of the window, outside of the Sixty-six
saloon, Mann had a bench erected, which would accom
modate two people only. In one end of this he bored
a smaU hole through it, placing therein a needle point
ing up, attaching to the head of the needle a small
weight, and then running the string through the
window to the inside of the building. Then he would
get someone in conversation, sitting him down on the
end where the needle was. Mann would have some
confederate pull the string, which would pierce the
one sitting there, the weight pulling the needle down.
The hole in the bench was so small that it was not
perceptible, the victim getting pierced, would jump up
and with his hand feel on the bench and then to the
part of his anatomy pierced, and many times would
finally conclude that it was a sliver or something else,
and would again sit down, when he would be pierced
a second time. This caused a great deal of laughter,
forcing the victim to buy the drinks for those present.
The boys around the saloon worked this very strong,
particularly one named Johnie the Oyster, so Carl
Mann one day reversed the needle in the bench. Oyster
coming along with a victim and not knowing that the
needle had been changed, set his man down and began
talking to him, when Carl puUed the string, piercing
Oyster very hard. Oyster jumped in the air about
three feet, yelling with pain. The fellow with him
thought that he had gone crazy, and I don't wonder,
for Oyster was tearing around there, threatening to
kill everybody in the saloon. However, in time he

Page 231  HARD KNOCKS
quieted down, treated everybody, and the bench was
removed. I left Deadwood October 1st, 1876, in company with
twenty others. We were employed by my friend
Botsford and the Wheeler Bros, to guard two thous
and pounds of gold dust they were taking from Dead-
wood to Cheyenne, as rumors had been circulated that
road agents planned to hold up the same. The gold
dust was transported in a four-horse wagon. We
guards were mounted and heavily armed; five others
and myself riding a quarter of a mile ahead as ad
vance guards and five others acting as rear guards,
the balance riding each side of the wagon.
We made this trip in very fast time, arriving in
Cheyenne without any incident out of the ordinary.
The owners of the gold dust paid us each two hundred
doUars and a railroad ticket to any point desired. The
owners went to the Centennial at Philadelphia, trans
porting their gold dust with them. I took my ticket
to Eureka, Nevada, arriving there in due course of time
with over five thousand doUars in my possession. There
I met an old miner, who had partially developed a silver
mine at a place called Tybo, two hundred miles south
of Eureka. He gave me a half interest and together
we went to develop it, I furnishing the capital. In
three months I was broke, the mine proving a failure.
I worked my way back to Eureka and from there to
Winnemucca, Nevada, where I found a stock man who
was transporting ten carloads of cattle to Oakland,
California. He employed me to help care for them en
route, giving me my passage and board. He kept
telling me how valuable I was to him and that when
he unloaded at Oakland, he would not forget me
financiaUy, as he knew I was broke.
After unloading the cattle, he gave me his res
idence address in Oakland, teUing me to be there at

HARD KNOCKS Page 232
five o'clock and if he was not there, that he would
leave the money for me with his wife. I was at his
house at the appointed time and was met at the door
by his wife, who said: "Oh, you are the man who
came with my husband on the cattle train. He is not
in, but has left something for you." Whereupon she
generously handed me the munificent sum of thirty-
five cents.
I took the money, looked at the woman in astonish
ment and said: "Is this aU he left?"
"Why, yes," she repUed. "What did you expect;
a milUon dollars ?"
"No, no," I answered, "this will last me the balance
of my Ufe." I shall always believe that she held out
a portion of the money, or else her husband had
peddled me a large amount of hot air during the trip.
I crossed the ferry to San Francisco at a cost
of fifteen cents, and was at last in a city of the
Golden West, with a handbag and a capital of twenty
cents with which to start life anew. This was in
1877. Passing through the ferry station, it being
about nine o'clock in the evening, I was accosted by
one of the night-hawk hackmen, so numerous in those
days. He snatched my bag from my hand, opened the
hack door and insisted on my getting in. I immedi
ately recognized him as a man called Slippery Smith,
who the year before had been run out of Deadwood for
horse steaUng and who was an all-round tough char
acter. He had not recognized me.
ChuckUng to myself, I got into his hack. He did
not ask me where I wanted to go, but drove me
around for half an hour, finally stopping in front of
the Grand Hotel. Before opening the hack door, he
demanded my fare, which he said was five doUars. I
then asked him to drive me to the city jail.

Page 233 HARDKNOCKS
This was a puzzler to Slippery Smith, and he asked
me why I wanted to go there.
I replied : "To have you arrested for steaUng horses
in Deadwood." He then opened the hack door and under the street
Ught looked me carefully over, and finally recog
nized me. Grasping me by the hand, shaking it 'till
it was nearly torn from the sockets, he remarked:
"Young, I am glad to see you. What in the world
are you doing here?" I then told him my late ex
periences, also that my finances were reduced to
twenty cents. He insisted upon my getting back into
the hack, and drove to a restaurant where we partook
of a fine meal. We then went to his room; Smith
telUng me to go to bed and that he would see me in
the moming. This I did, and got a good night's rest.
The reader must bear in mind that this was my
first appearance in a large, civilized city for a num
ber of years. My friend arrived at the room about
nine o'clock in the moming and took me to breakfast,
where we talked over old times in Deadwood. Handing
me a five dollar gold piece and giving me the address
of the house, he told me to take in the sights and
enjoy myself, and meet him at the room at six o'clock.
I wandered around aU day like a stray goose and
wondering why in the vast crowd of people I met and
passed there was not a single familiar face.
Completely tired out, six o'clock finally came. I
found the room and my friend Smith waiting for me.
On the way to supper he informed me that he would
take care of me untU I was accustomed to city ways,
and that the better way for me to do would be to ac
company him on his hack. I accepted his suggestion,
and became what he termed the "hack dog." I did
not ask him at the time the meaning of the term, but
very soon found out by a Uttle experience on the third

HARD KNOCKS Page 234
night. Our hack stand was at the corner of Bush and
Kearney Streets and the business usually commenced
at about two o'clock in the moming, after the horse-
cars had stopped running. We were then on the alert
for unfortunates, who, having imbibed too freely, had
missed the last car.
This particular moming we grabbed an athletic
appearing young man, whom we put in the hack, and
after considerable questioning got from him his ad
dress. After driving him around for about an hour,
we eventually took him to his destination. The long
ride had partially sobered him. On getting out of the
hack. Smith demanded seven dollars, at the same tirae
trying to impress upon the young man the fact that
he had been driven to various places and that the
charge was reasonable. I was sitting on the hack seat
at the time and saw him knock Smith under the hack.
This was where the part of the "hack dog" came in,
as I was supposed to go to the assistance of the driver.
This I quickly did, and had no sooner landed on the
sidewalk, when the athlete landed on me, with a
knockout blow between the eyes, putting me to sleep.
When I came to, I found Smith still much dazed
and our passenger gone. Both of my eyes were badly
swollen and for the next few days very black. The
next day in the room. Smith remarked: "That feUow
was a corker." And I heartily agreed with him.
I followed the hack-dog business for about a month,
and I assure you had many funny experiences. At
times when the passengers would not settle the ex-
horbitant fares. Smith would drive them to the near
est poUceman and if they had money on them, he
would force them to settle; the poUceman receiving
a portion of the fare collected. If they did not have
the money, we would take their watch, ring or any
article of value, teUing them that they could redeem

Page 235 HARDKNOCKS

such article at the hack stand at the comer of Bush
and Kearney Streets. This they invariably did. While
I appreciated Smith's kindness, the business was not
to my Uking, and I could not get used to city life.
Consequently when harvest time came, I severed my
connections with him and left the busy city for life
T was more adapted to.
While out in the harvest field, I became acquainted
with a man from Portland, Oregon, who told me of
the many chances for a young man in that city. After
harvest, I retumed to San Francisco and from there
took the steamer to Portland. In 1879, one year after
my arrival in Portland, I was fortunate enough to
get a position which in many respects was similar to
my past experience and much like the work I had been
accustomed to.
The construction of the Northern Pacific railroad
was in progress, through the sparcely settled country
of Eastern Oregon, Idaho and Montana. My position
was that of riding steward for the firm of Du Boise
& King, who had the contract for the boarding of
the white men on the construction. Having had ex
perience on the construction of the Atchison, Topeka
& Santa Fe railroad, I thoroughly understood the
type of men I would have to deal with. They were
principaUy Irish and I found among them many of
whom had worked on the Santa Fe in the same line
of work. To the Irish we must give the credit of
building the first transcontinental railroad. I often
wonder what has become of this vast army of men,
for they seem to have entirely disappeared, as far as
construction work is concerned. It must be that they
have been supplanted by the ItaUans and Japs.
We boarded these men in large tents. At times
there were as many as two hundred in one camp and
about thirty camps strung along the construction work

HARD KNOCKS Page 236
for a distance of twenty-five miles or more. It was my
duty to keep these camps supplied with food, cooks and
waiters. We used tin dishes. As the construction
work advanced, tents had to be moved. Our suppUes
were shipped from Portland to the end of the track
and from there transported by four-horse teams.
These men were a hard set of people to handle and
made more so as whiskey was aUowed to be sold in
each camp.
The reader can imagine approximately six thou
sand of these men being paid off on the first of each
month, less four dollars and fifty cents per week each
reserved for board. After being paid, the majority
of them would go to the saloon, get beastly intoxi
cated and then settle any previous differences which
might have arisen, by fighting like bulldogs. This
was the particular time when they were looking for
the riding stewart, blaming him for the poor quality
of food and numerous other things, and winding up
with threats of dire vengeance. There was no tuming
back on the part of the steward, for he had to meet
them every day whether they were drunk or sober.
And I assure you it required a good deal of tact and
nerve for him to do so. I was mounted but not armed
and had to be guided entirely by diplomacy. I wiU
cite one of many instances during the year I fiUed
this position.
One moming at about four o'clock — five days after
payday — I was within about a mile of Camp No. 25
(each camp being numbered), when I heard a man
groaning in the brush by the roadside. Dismounting,
I found an old man named Pat Malloy, who ran one
of the saloons at this camp. He had been badly beaten
up by these feUows, and informed me that they had
raided his saloon, demolishing everything and confis
cated his whiskey. He begged of me not to go into
this camp, as they were planning on hanging the

Page 237 HARDKNOCKS

riding steward when he came along, I thanked the
old fellow for the warning, but told him that I must
visit the camp, which I did, I found a great crowd
congregated there, formed in a circle, and in the
center two men stripped to the waist were engaged in
the so-caUed manly art of prize fighting. They had
whiskey in tin buckets from which they were drinking
freely. I rode up to the rear of the tent (they being out
in front) and after tying my horse to a post, I entered.
And such a sight I beheld ! Tables tumed over, dishes
and cooking utensils scattered about, and the cooks
and waiters gone. Not having had breakfast, I found
a couple of biscuits and began to eat. Up to this time
I had not been noticed. Presently someone called out,
"Boys, here is the riding steward's horse. Let's find
the steward and hang him," Then led by a big,
strapping Irishman, they rushed into the tent, I
stood my ground and putting up my hand and in a
loud voice commaned them to stop, as I had some
thing to say. Their leader checked them, saying,
"Let him talk. For it is the last talk he wiU make on
earth," I began, "Boys, I am just the same as one of you,
and working for wages the same as you are," (What
foUowed verifies the biblical quotation, "Cast your
bread upon the waters and it shaU retum tenfold,")
Before I ceased talking, the leader suddenly raised
his hand, saying: "Boys, yez shaU not touch that boy,
for, in the old Nicolai House in Portland, he
gave me a bed and twenty-five cents to get my break
fast in the morning. If yez touch him, yez will
have to fight me," This stopped them. They took me
by the arm, in a friendly spirit, rushed me to the
Uquor refreshments, insisting that I have a drink,
then another, which I accepted. They then appointed

HARD KNOCKS Page 238
me referee of two fights that followed. After imbib
ing this bad, fighting whiskey, I was sorely tempted
to go a round myself, but instead I hunted up the
camp crew, finding them a mile down the road, hiding
in the brush and badly frightened. After a good deal
of persuasion on my part, I succeeded in getting them
back to the camp. Straightening up the wreckage and
getting the fire started, I waited for them to cook a
meal and then joined the boys in eating it. The next
day, upon visiting this camp, I found everything
perfectly quiet and most of the men who were able had
gone to their work. Carousals of this kind were a
monthly occurrence.
At the end of the year, my contract having ex
pired, I returned to Portland, none the worse for my
experience. I then engaged in the baggage and trans
fer business, which I followed for six years. Tiring
of that I became a traveling passenger agent for the
Oregon Railroad & Navigation Company, A. L. Max
weU, at the time, being General Passenger Agent.
This position I held for five years, and when the great
Klondike gold excitement broke out in 1898, I could
not resist the temptation of joining the rush, leaving
Portland on the first trip of steamer "George W.
Elder," which was one of the first to arrive at Skag-
way, Alaska. At that place I remained for a year,
equipping and operating the first bathhouse in Alaska.
In this business, I made a large amount of money and
sold out for a good figure. I then went to Seattle,
Washington. In the year 1900 the Nome, Alaska, excitement
started. Twenty-nine others and myself took passage
on a one hundred and fifty ton sailing schooner owned
by D. H. Smith and D. Bogan.
On our way to Dutch Harbor, Alaska, my partner,
named Jim Harrison, had some misunderstanding with

Page 239  HARD KNOCKS
the captain. On our arrival at Dutch Harbor we found
quite a number of steamships waiting until the ice went
out of the Behring Sea. Wyat Earp had opened a
gambling resort there. Temporarily whiskey was
plentiful. We all enjoyed ourselves, Harrison, meeting
the captain of the schooner, renewed his quarrel and
knocked the captain down. Later I found that the
captains of all the ships in the harbor decided at a
meeting held by them, that none of them would aUow
Harrison and myself to travel on any of their ships to
Nome. In other words, they intended to maroon us at
Dutch Harbor. This was not very pleasant news. I,
knowing Captain Tuttle of the Steamer "Bear," ap
pealed to him. He informed me he could fix it for me
to go on any steamer, but I must not associate with
Harrison. "This offer I refused and stayed by Har
rison. We then received notice from the captain of
the schooner, General McPherson, to come out in a
small boat and remove our effects. This we proceeded
to do. On our arrival at the schooner's side, we found
the captain and first officer standing aft, each with
a six shooter in his hand. I remarked to Harrison,
"Don't say one word to them until I can get into my
room and get my shot gun and put in two cartridges."
We boarded the schooner, the captain and mate looking
daggers at us. I secured the shot gun. Jim began
folding up our blankets. When the captain and mate
came down into the cabin, I stood guard with the shot
gun while Jim packed our belongings. Then I ordered
the captain and mate to step aside and allow us to de
part in peace, or I would blow their heads off. They
let us depart in peace. I boarded the small boat,
guarding Jim whUe he did Ukewise, and reached the
shore without further trouble. This news was much
exaggerated by the captain and mate. Now came the
trial of getting passage to Nome. I finally found a
steward I had known in Portland, who was employed

HARD KNOCKS Page 240
on the steam schooner "Nelson." He smuggled both
of us on the ship, bringing our belongings by piece
meal until all was aboard. We arrived in Nome in
good shape, after bucking ice for six days.
In a few days six of us with packs on our backs,
started for the interior. On the third day out I con
cluded that the undertaking was too much for me,
and realized that I was too old to stand the "Hard
Knocks" I had withstood in the past, and tuming over
my pack to my comrades, after I had retained suffici
ent goods to last me, I retumed to Nome. From Nome I
took a steamer to Seattle, Washington, concluding I
would pass the remainder of my Ufe where there were
paved streets, porcelain bathtubs and beds to sleep in.
I did not stay in Seattle, however. After a while I
moved to Portland, Oregon,

Page 241 HARDKNOCKS
CHAPTER XXV.
MY BUFFALO VENTURE IN PORTLAND.
JACK RUGG and myself purchased from Howard
Eaton two buffalo, one male and one female,
for one thousand dollars, delivered at Port
land. Eaton at this time owned a large herd
of buffalo in Montana. Our contract with him
was that the cow should be with calf, as we wished
it to be bom in Portland. Our intention was to ex
hibit them. At CaUspel, the nearest point, the cow
in ti:ying to jump out of the corral, injured herself,
causing a premature birth. Eaton wired me what had
happened and I instructed him to save the dead calf.
Upon the car's arrival here, I gave the dead calf
to L. L. Hawkins, who at that time was gathering
reUcs for the City Museum. The buffalo I transported
in a covered dray to a large tent, which enclosed a
steel cage sixteen feet square and eight feet high,
and in a short time I had tamed the male buffalo by
feeding him myself three times a day. He was very
fond of wild pea vines. I named him "Joe" and every
time I fed him I called him by his name. Learning
his name and knowing he was to be fed, Joe became
quite gentle, so much so, that I could put my hand
on his head. The cow I could not tame. She was
frightfully mean and wild, and I could do nothing
with her.
Our venture tumed out a failure and left us with
two buffalo on our hands. After consulting with Mr.
Rugg, we concluded to seU them to the city for their
narks, which I succeeded in doing, receiving for them
seven hundred and fifty doHars. From those two
buffalo the city now have a herd of five fine specimens
of these noble animals. Old Joe was killed two years

HARD KNOCKS Page 242
ago by his son — they having fought a great battle to
the death for the supremacy of the herd. Joe being the
older and less able to defend himself, had to succumb
to youth and was horribly gored to death. The cow
died previously.
I am still residing in Portland, Oregon, and am
in fairly good health, and where I hope to remain until
I cross the Great Divide.
Should any of my old-time companions visit Port
land, I shall be pleased to see them and they will
always find the latch string on the outside of my door.
THE END.

Errata
On page 13 the distance to Fort Gibson, in the Cherokee
Territory is stated as 25 miles. It should have been 125
miles.

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