A YEAR OF ADVENTURES.
Receiving an invitation from an old friend named Dave Harrington to
accompany him on a trapping expedition up the Republican River, Buffalo
Bill gladly accepted it, and prepared for the perilous trip.
The two started out from Salt Creek Valley with an outfit consisting of
a wagon filled with traps and provisions, drawn by a yoke of oxen.
It was near the middle of November when the two started on the
expedition, Mrs. Cody standing in the door when the team moved off,
wiping the tears from her eyes and giving bounteous blessings to her
beloved boy, watching with painful emotions until the white cover of
the wagon which sheltered her dearest treasure became hidden by the
prairie undulations in the distance.
The two made excellent progress, and met with no detention, arriving at
the mouth of Prairie Dog Creek early in December. Here they found an
abundance of beaver, and trapped with such success that they secured
300 beaver and 100 otter skins before the severe weather interfered
with their occupation.
Having obtained a full load of pelts it was decided to remain in the
dug-out which they had constructed until the beginning of spring, when
the return trip could be made without dangerous exposure.
During the period of waiting the two occupied much of their time
shooting elk, large numbers of which were roaming constantly within
convenient proximity. On one occasion while out hunting and in pursuit
of a large herd of elk, while passing around a large rock projecting
over a small ravine, Billy made a false step and was precipitated onto
the rocks below, the fall breaking his leg between the knee and ankle.
This accident, always serious, was doubly so under the circumstances,
when no surgical aid could be had, nor any but a miserably insufficient
attention could be given to mitigate the injury. To add still further
to the misfortunes of the suffering boy, only a few days before this
accident one of the oxen had broken a leg and Harrington had been
compelled to shoot the animal. Here the two trappers were, in the midst
of winter storms, without a team, and Billy rolling in an agony which
his partner was unable to relieve.
After discussing the situation for some time, Harrington said:
“Well, Billy, this is a bad box, and the only way to get out is for me
to reach the nearest settlement and get a team to haul you home.”
The poor boy, though he well knew that the nearest place from which
succor could be obtained was fully 125 miles distant, and appreciated
all the terrors of a long and painful waiting alone among the hungry
wolves and bands of equally ferocious Indians, told Harrington to do as
he thought best about making the trip.
It is no less pathetic than astonishing the devotion which is so often
found among the Western pioneers, whose uncouth language and grizzly
garb, if taken as an index to their true character, would lead to the
inference that they are destitute of that human kindness which redeems
mankind and compensates our vices.
Brave Dave Harrington, just like Cody himself, big-hearted, noble,
generous, self-sacrificing, immediately prepared for the tedious winter
journey. Collecting about and within convenient reach of Billy plenty
of dried beef, water, and other provisions needful for the sufferer’s
subsistence, Dave set out on the long trip, bidding his companion to be
cheerful and expect his return in twenty-one days.
[Illustration]
Finding himself utterly alone, poor Billy--I say “poor” because the
facts can not fail to arouse the deepest pity and make us sympathize
with him even now in remembrance, because sensibly affected by the
realization of his terrible situation, Billy lay on his rude bed,
nursing the inflamed and painful fracture, nothing to relieve his
lonesomeness save the howl of prowling wolves peering through the mud
and sticks and under the door. Ten days passed, when one evening Billy
was aroused by a singular noise outside the door. He heard voices,
and his experienced ear told him they were Indians. Suddenly a dozen
Sioux, led by Chief Rain-In-The-Face, broke into the dug-out. Billy
rose up from his pallet and faced them as well as he could, expecting
instant death; but fortune favored him, as the chief recognized Billy,
having met him often at Laramie. The chief at once told Billy that his
life was safe; but the Indians remained all night, feasting on the
provisions found there, and when they left in the morning carried away
his weapons.
To add to his suffering a terrible snow-storm began, and Billy
knew that it would retard the coming of Harrington. Starvation now
threatened, and his leg became more painful each day. At last the
twenty-first day dawned; the fuel had burned out; the suffering boy was
forced to gnaw chunks of frozen venison.
On the twenty-ninth day Dave Harrington arrived at the hut with two
oxen which he had driven through the snow. The meeting between the two
can not be described, and Billy heard how Harrington had braved every
danger and hardship to come back to his rescue. A bed was made of furs
and blankets in the wagon and making Billy as comfortable as possible
Harrington set out for Junction City. The sun now came out and melted
the snow and they experienced no further difficulty.
Arriving at Junction City they sold their furs at a good price, and
also the team, and went to Leavenworth with a government mule train.
Harrington would not desert Billy, and accompanied him home, where
every kindness was shown to the brave man who had saved Billy’s life.
Soon after their arrival at the Cody home Harrington was taken ill,
and after an illness of one week died. Even to this day to speak of
Dave Harrington to Buffalo Bill, he will have something kind to say in
memory of his dearest friend.
It was months before Buffalo Bill recovered the use of his leg so
that he could go again to work; then he applied for work on the Pony
Express, and was engaged on a long and dangerous run.
The condition of the country along the North Platte had become so
dangerous that it was almost impossible for the Overland Stage Company
to find drivers, although the highest wages were offered. Billy at once
decided to turn stage-driver, and his services were gladly accepted.
While driving a stage between Split Rock and Three Crossings he was set
upon by a band of several hundred Sioux. Lieutenant Flowers, assistant
division agent, sat on the box beside Billy, and there were half a
dozen well-armed passengers inside. Billy gave the horses the reins,
Lieutenant Flowers applied the whip, and the passengers defended the
stage in a running fight. Arrows fell around and struck the stage like
hail, wounding the horses and dealing destruction generally, for two of
the passengers were killed and Lieutenant Flowers badly wounded. Billy
seized the whip from the wounded officer, applied it savagely, shouted
defiance, and drove on to Three Crossings, thus saving the stage.
[Illustration: THE ATTACK ON THE OVERLAND COACH.]
This last trip proved so disastrous that it was decided to use a band
of mounted men to patrol the trail. This force was placed under the
command of Wild Bill, and Billy Cody accompanied the expedition they
made into the Indian country. It proved to be a complete success and
the hostiles were severely punished, many being killed and hundreds of
horses captured.
While connected with the stage line Billy started out alone on a
bear-hunt. He had camped for the night and was picking a sage-hen which
he had shot when he heard the whinny of a horse up the mountain. He
at once proceeded to investigate and came upon a dug-out with several
horses staked out near. Hearing voices within and concluding they
were trappers or hunters, he at once rapped on the door. The door was
opened and by the firelight he saw eight men, who he at once knew were
outlaws. Two of these men Billy recognized as having been discharged by
the Overland Stage Company. Billy told them how he came to find their
cabin, and he was asked where his horse was.
“I left him tied at my camp down the mountain. I’ll leave my gun here
and go and bring him up,” replied Billy anxious to get out of the
hornet’s-nest in which he found himself.
Two of the villains at once offered their services to accompany him,
to his great regret, but he could do nothing else than go with them,
fully realizing the danger of his situation. He knew if he returned to
the cabin he would be killed, and so he decided to act to save himself.
Quick as lightning he struck one of the outlaws a stunning blow over
the head with his pistol and as the other turned shot him dead; then
running to his horse he leaped into the saddle and fled down the
mountains. The trail was so rugged however that his progress was slow
and the shot having been heard in the cabin the outlaws were soon in
full pursuit, but fortunately Billy managed to make his escape, eluding
his pursuers in the darkness, but having to desert his horse to do so.
It was twelve hours before he reached Horseshoe, exhausted and
half-famished. Reporting his adventure to Alf Slade, a party of ten
started at once under Billy’s guidance to the outlaws’ cabin. They
reached there after a ride of six hours and found a new-made grave, but
the place was abandoned and there was nothing left to indicate their
intention to return. Billy was complimented in the most deserving way
for his bravery, and was put on the road again as express rider, Wild
Bill being his alternate; and the two made better time than any other
riders on the road.