A MILLIONAIRE.
Soon after returning to Fort Hays, I was sent with dispatches to Fort
Harker. After delivering the messages, I visited the town of Ellsworth,
about three miles west of Fort Harker, and there I met a man named
William Rose, a contractor on the Kansas Pacific Railroad, who had a
contract for grading near Fort Hays. He had had his stock stolen by the
Indians, and had come to Ellsworth to buy more.
During the course of our conversation, Mr. Rose incidentally remarked
that he had some idea of laying out a town on the west side of Big Creek,
about one mile from the fort, where the railroad was to cross. He asked
my opinion of the contemplated enterprise, and I told him that I thought
it was "a big thing." He then proposed taking me as a partner in the
scheme, and suggested that after we got the town laid out and thrown open
to the public, we should establish a store and saloon there.
Thinking it would be a grand thing to be half-owner of a town, I at once
accepted his proposition. We bought a stock of such articles as are
usually found in a frontier store, and transported them to the place on
Big Creek, where we were to found our town. We hired a railroad engineer
to survey the site and stake it off into lots; and we gave the new town
the ancient and historical name of Rome. To a "starter," we donated lots
to any one who would build on them, but reserved the corner lots and
others which were best located for ourselves. These reserved lots we
valued at fifty dollars each.
Our modern Rome, like all mushroom towns along the line of a new
railroad, sprang up as if by magic, and in less than one month we had two
hundred frame and log houses, three or four stores, several saloons, and
one good hotel. Rome was looming up, and Rose and I already considered
ourselves millionaires, and thought we "had the world by the tail." But
one day a fine-looking gentleman, calling himself Dr. W.E. Webb, appeared
in town, and dropping into our store introduced himself in a very
pleasant way.
"Gentlemen, you've got a very flourishing little town here. Wouldn't you
like to have a partner in your enterprise?"
"No, thank you," said I, "we have too good a thing here to whack up
with anybody."
My partner agreed with me, but the conversation was continued, and at
last the stranger said:
"Gentlemen, I am the agent or prospector of the Kansas Pacific Railroad,
and my business is to locate towns for the company along the line."
"We think we have the only suitable town-site in this immediate
locality," said Mr. Rose, "and as a town is already started, we have
saved the company considerable expense."
"You know as well as I do," said Dr. Webb, "that the company expects to
make money by selling lands and town lots; and as you are not disposed to
give the company a show, or share with me, I shall probably have to start
another town near you. Competition is the life of trade, you know."
"Start your town, if you want to. We've got the 'bulge' on you, and can
hold it," said I, somewhat provoked at his threat.
But we acted too independently and too indiscreetly for our own good Dr.
Webb, the very next day after his interview with us, began hauling
material to a spot about one mile east of us, where he staked out a new
town, which he called Hays City. He took great pains to circulate in our
town the story that the railroad company would locate their round-houses
and machine shops at Hays City, and that it was to be _the_ town and a
splendid business center. A ruinous stampede from our place was the
result. People who had built in Rome came to the conclusion that they had
built in the wrong place; they began pulling down their buildings and
moving them over to Hays City, and in less than three days our once
flourishing city had dwindled down to the little store which Rose and I
had built.
It was on a bright summer morning that we sat on a pine box in front of
our crib, moodily viewing the demolition of the last building. Three days
before, we had considered ourselves millionaires; on that morning we
looked around and saw that we were reduced to the ragged edge of poverty.
Our sanguine expectations of realizing immense fortunes were dashed to
the ground, and we felt pretty blue. The new town of Hays had swallowed
Rome entirely. Mr. Rose facetiously remarked that he felt like "the last
rose of summer," with all his lovely companions faded and gone, and _he_
left blooming alone. I told him I was still there, staunch and true, but
he replied that that didn't help the matter much. Thus ends the brief
history of the "Rise, Decline and Fall" of Modern Rome.
It having become evident to me that there was very little hope of Rome
ever regaining its former splendor and prosperity, I sent my wife and
daughter Arta--who had been born at Leavenworth in the latter part of
December, 1866--to St. Louis on a visit. They had been living with me
for some little time in the rear part of our "store."
At this time Mr. Rose and myself had a contract under Schumacher, Miller
& Co., constructors of the Kansas Pacific, for grading five miles of
track westward from Big Creek, and running through the site of Rome.
Notwithstanding we had been deserted, we had some small hope that they
would not be able to get water at the new town, and that the people would
all soon move back to Rome, as we really had the best location. We
determined, therefore, to go on with our grading contract, and wait for
something better to turn up. It was indeed hard for us, who had been
millionaires, to come down to the level of common railroad contractors--
but we had to do it, all the same.
We visited the new town of Hays almost daily, to see how it was
progressing, and in a short time we became much better acquainted with
Dr. Webb, who had reduced us from our late independent to our present
dependent position. We found him a perfect gentleman--a whole-souled,
genial-hearted fellow, whom everybody liked and respected. Nearly
every day, "Doc." and I would take a ride over the prairie together
and hunt buffalo.
On one occasion, having ventured about ten miles from the town, we spied
a band of Indians not over two miles distant, who were endeavoring to get
between us and the town, and thus cut us off. I was mounted on my
celebrated horse Brigham, the fleetest steed I ever owned. On several
subsequent occasions he saved my life, and he was the horse that I rode
when I killed sixty-nine buffaloes in one day. Dr. Webb was riding a
beautiful thoroughbred bay, which he had brought with him from the East.
Having such splendid horses, we laughed at the idea of a band of Indians
overtaking us on a square run, no matter how well they might be mounted;
but not caring to be cut off by them, we ran our steeds about three
miles towards home, thus getting between the braves and the town. The
Indians were then about three-quarters of a mile distant, and we stopped
and waved our hats at them, and fired some shots at long range. There
were thirteen in the party, and as they were getting pretty close to us,
we struck out for Hays. They came on in pursuit and sent several
scattering shots after us, but we easily left them behind. They finally
turned and rode off towards the Saline River.
The Doctor thought this glorious sport, and wanted to organize a party to
go in pursuit of them, but I induced him to give up this idea, although
he did so rather reluctantly. The Doctor soon became quite an expert
hunter, and before he had remained on the prairie a year there were but
few men in the country who could kill more buffaloes on a hunt than he.
Being aware that Rose and myself felt rather downhearted over our
deserted village, the Doctor one day said that, as he had made the
proprietors of Rome "howl," he would give us two lots each in Hays, and
did so. We finally came to the conclusion that our old town was dead
beyond redemption or revival, and we thereupon devoted our undivided
attention to our railroad contract. One day we were pushed for horses to
work on our scrapers--so I hitched up Brigham, to see how he would work.
He was not much used to that kind of labor, and I was about giving up the
idea of making a work-horse of him, when one of the men called to me that
there were some buffaloes coming over the hill. As there had been no
buffaloes seen anywhere in the vicinity of the camp for several days, we
had become rather short of meat. I immediately told one of our men to
hitch his horses to a wagon and follow me, as I was going out after the
herd, and we would bring back some fresh meat for supper. I had no
saddle, as mine had been left at the camp a mile distant, so taking the
harness from Brigham, I mounted him bareback and started out after the
game, being armed with my celebrated buffalo-killer, "Lucretia
Borgia,"--a newly-improved breech-loading needle gun, which I had
obtained from the government.
While I was riding toward the buffaloes I observed five horsemen coming
out from the fort, who had evidently seen the buffaloes from the post,
and were going out for a chase. They proved to be some newly-arrived
officers in that part of the country, and when they came up closer, I
could see by the shoulder straps that the senior officer was a captain,
while the others were lieutenants.
"Hello! may friend," sang out the captain, "I see you are after the same
game we are."
"Yes, sir; I saw those buffaloes coming over the hill, and as we were
about out of fresh meat I thought I would go and get some," said I.
They scanned my cheap-looking outfit pretty closely, and as my horse was
not very prepossessing in appearance, having on only a blind bridle, and
otherwise looking like a work-horse they evidently considered me a green
hand at hunting.
"Do you expect to catch those buffaloes on that Gothic steed?" laughingly
asked the captain.
"I hope so, by pushing on the reins hard enough," was my reply.
"You'll never catch them in the world, my fine fellow," said the captain.
"It requires a fast horse to overtake the animals on these prairies."
"Does it?" asked I as if I didn't know it.
"Yes; but come along with us as we are going to kill them more for
pleasure than anything else. All we want are the tongues and a piece of
tender loin, and you may have all that is left," said the generous man.
"I am much obliged to you, Captain, and will follow you," I replied.
There were eleven buffaloes in the herd and they were not more than a
mile from us. The officers dashed ahead as if they had a sure thing on
killing them all before I could come up with them; but I had noticed that
the herd was making towards the creek for water, and as I knew buffalo
nature, I was perfectly aware that it would be difficult to turn them
from their direct course. Thereupon, I started towards the creek to head
them off, while the officers came up in the rear and gave chase.
The buffaloes came rushing past me not a hundred yards distant, with the
officers about three hundred yards in the rear. Now, thought I, is the
time to "get my work in," as they say; and I pulled the blind-bridle from
my horse, who knew as well as I did that we were out for buffaloes--as he
was a trained hunter. The moment the bridle was off, he started at the
top of his speed, running in ahead of the officers, and with a few jumps
he brought me alongside of the rear buffalo. Raising old "Lucretia
Borgia" to my shoulder, I fired, and killed the animal at the first shot.
My horse then carried me alongside the next one, not ten feet away, and I
dropped him at the next fire.
As soon as one buffalo would fall, Brigham would take me so close to the
next, that I could almost touch it with my gun. In this manner I killed
the eleven buffaloes with twelve shots; and, as the last animal dropped,
my horse stopped. I jumped to the ground, knowing that he would not leave
me--it must be remembered that I had been riding him without bridle,
reins or saddle--and turning round as the party of astonished officers
rode up, I said to them:
"Now, gentlemen, allow me to present to you all the tongues and
tender-loins you wish from these buffaloes."
[Illustration: TONGUES AND TENDER LOINS.]
Captain Graham, for such I soon learned was his name, replied: "Well, I
never saw the like before. Who under the sun are you, anyhow?"
"My name is Cody," said I.
One of the lieutenants, Thompson by name, who had met me at Fort Harker,
then recognized me, and said: "Why, that is Bill Cody, our old scout." He
then introduced me to the other officers, who were Captain Graham, of the
Tenth Cavalry, and Lieutenants Reed, Emmick and Ezekiel.
Captain Graham, who was considerable of a horseman, greatly admired
Brigham, and said: "That horse of yours has running points."
"Yes, sir; he has not only got the points, he is a runner and knows how
to use the points," said I.
"So I noticed," said the captain.
They all finally dismounted, and we continued chatting for some little
time upon the different subjects of horses, buffaloes, Indians and
hunting. They felt a little sore at not getting a single shot at the
buffaloes, but the way I had killed them had, they said, amply repaid
them for their disappointment. They had read of such feats in books, but
this was the first time they had ever seen anything of the kind with
their own eyes. It was the first time, also, that they had ever witnessed
or heard of a white man running buffaloes on horseback without a saddle
or a bridle.
I told them that Brigham knew nearly as much about the business as I did,
and if I had had twenty bridles they would have been of no use to me, as
he understood everything, and all that he expected of me was to do the
shooting. It is a fact, that Brigham would stop if a buffalo did not fall
at the first fire, so as to give me a second chance, but if I did not
kill the buffalo then, he would go on, as if to say, "You are no good,
and I will not fool away time by giving you more than two shots." Brigham
was the best horse I ever owned or saw for buffalo chasing.
Our conversation was interrupted in a little while by the arrival of the
wagon which I had ordered out; I loaded the hind-quarters of the youngest
buffaloes on it, and then cut out the tongues and tender loins, and
presented them to the officers, after which I rode towards the fort with
them, while the wagon returned to camp.
Captain Graham told me that he expected to be stationed at Fort Hays
during the summer, and would probably be sent out on a scouting
expedition, and in case he was he would like to have me accompany him as
scout and guide. I replied that notwithstanding I was very busy with my
railroad contract I would go with him if he was ordered out. I then left
the officers and returned to our camp.
That very night the Indians unexpectedly made a raid on the horses, and
ran off five or six of our very best work-teams, leaving us in a very
crippled condition. At daylight I jumped on old Brigham and rode to Fort
Hays, when I reported the affair to the commanding officer; Captain
Graham and Lieutenant Emmick were at once ordered out with their company
of one hundred colored troops, to pursue the Indians and recover our
stock if possible. In an hour we were under way. The darkies had never
been in an Indian fight and were anxious to catch the band we were after
and "Sweep de red debels from off de face ob de earth." Captain Graham
was a brave, dashing officer, eager to make a record for himself, and it
was with difficulty that I could trail fast enough to keep out of the way
of the impatient soldiers. Every few moments Captain Graham would ride up
to see if the trail was freshening and how soon we should be likely to
overtake the thieves.
At last we reached the Saline river, where we found the Indians had only
stopped to feed and water the animals, and had then pushed on towards the
Solomon. After crossing the Saline they made no effort to conceal their
trail, thinking they would not be pursued beyond that point--consequently
we were able to make excellent time. We reached the Soloman before
sunset, and came to a halt; we surmised that if the Indians were camped
on this river, that they had no suspicion of our being in the
neighborhood. I advised Captain Graham to remain with the company where
it was, while I went ahead on a scout to find the Indians, if they were
in the vicinity.
After riding some distance down the ravine that led to the river, I left
my horse at the foot of a hill; then, creeping to the top, I looked
cautiously over the summit upon the Solomon, below. I at once discovered
in plain view, not a mile away, a herd of horses grazing, our lost ones
among them; very shortly I made out the Indian camp, noted its lay, and
how we could best approach it. Reporting to Captain Graham, whose eyes
fairly danced with delight at the prospect of surprising and whipping
the redskins, we concluded to wait until the moon rose, then get into
the timber so as to approach the Indians as closely as possible without
being discovered, and finally to make a sudden dash into their camp, and
clean them out. We had everything "cut and dried," as we thought, but,
alas! just as we were nearing the point where we were to take the open
ground and make our charge, one of the colored gentlemen became so
excited that he fired off his gun. We immediately commenced the charge,
but the firing of the gun and the noise of our rush through the
crackling timber alarmed the Indians, who at once sprang to their
horses and were away from us before we reached their late camp. Captain
Graham called out "Follow me boys!" which we did for awhile, but in the
darkness the Indians made good their escape. The bugle then gave the
re-call, but some of the darkies did not get back until morning, having,
in their fright, allowed their horses to run away with them whithersoever
it suited the animal's pleasure to go.
[Illustration: THE INDIAN HORSE THIEVES.]
We followed the trail the next day for awhile, but as it become evident
that it would be a long chase to overtake the enemy, and as we had
rations only for the day, we commenced the return. Captain Graham was
bitterly disappointed in not being able to get the fight when it seemed
so near at one time. He roundly cursed the "nigger" who fired the gun,
and as a punishment for his carelessness, he was compelled to walk all
the way back to Fort Hays.