Bill remained in Springfield several months after killing Tutt, and
until he was engaged, in 1866, to guide the Peace Commission, which
visited the many tribes of Indians that year. Henry M. Stanley, the
African explorer, accompanied the commission as correspondent of the
New York _Herald_, and wrote some amusing sketches of Bill during
the trip, but none of a nature which would make them appropriate in
the history of his escapades. They related chiefly to his feats of
markmanship, knowledge of Indian cunning, and droll humor.
Upon the return of the Peace Commission, Bill made a trip into
the eastern part of Nebraska, and in the spring of 1867, fought a
remarkable duel in Jefferson county, with four men as his antagonists.
The particulars of this fight were obtained from a gentleman now living
in St. Louis, who, at the time, lived within a few miles of where the
fight occurred, and heard the details from eye-witnesses.
[Illustration: A Duel with Four Men.]
The origin of the difficulty was in bad whisky and ruffian nature.
Bill went into a saloon--which was well filled with cattle drivers,
who were half drunk and anxious for a fight--and called for a drink
without inviting any one to join him. While raising the glass to his
mouth one of the ruffians gave him a push in the back which caused
him to drop the glass. Without saying a word, Bill turned and struck
the rowdy a desperate blow, felling him outside the door. Four of the
rowdy’s friends jumped up from their chairs and drew their pistols.
Bill appreciated his situation at once, and with wonderful coolness,
said: “Gentlemen, let us have some respect for the proprietor. You are
anxious for a fight, and I will accommodate you if you will consent
to step outside. I will fight all four of you at fifteen paces with
pistols.” There was a general consent, and the crowd filed out of the
saloon. The distance was stepped off, and the four men stood five feet
apart, facing Bill. The saloon-keeper was to give the word “fire,”
and the arrangements were conducted in as fair a manner as four men
can fight one. Bill stood as calmly as though he were in church. Not
a flush nor tremor. All parties were to allow their pistols to remain
in their belts until the word “fire” was given, when each was then to
draw and fire at will, and as often as circumstances permitted. The
saloon-keeper asked if all were ready, and receiving an affirmative
reply, began to count slowly, pausing at least ten seconds between each
count: “one, two, three--fire!” Bill had fired almost before the call
had died from the saloon-keeper’s lips. He killed the man on the left,
but a shot also struck Bill in the right shoulder, and his right arm
fell helpless.
In another instant he had transferred his pistol to his left hand, and
three more successive shots dropped his antagonists. Three of the men
were shot in the head and instantly killed. The other was shot in the
right cheek, the ball carrying away a large portion of the cheek bone.
He afterwards recovered, and may be living yet. The names of the four
were: Jack Harkness, the one who recovered; Jim Slater, Frank Dowder
and Seth Beeber.
Bill was lionized by the others in the crowd in a moment after the
fight; his wound was carefully bandaged and his wants administered to;
but he considered it safer to quit the county at once, and returned
to Kansas, going direct to Hays City, where he remained until he
recovered the use of his arm, none of the bones having been broken, and
in the latter part of the same year he was made city marshal, as he was
the only one capable of dealing with the lawless class which had often
overrun the town and set law and decency at defiance.