Beadle's Boy's Library of Sport, Story and Adventure, Vol. I, No. 1. by Prentiss Ingraham

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He had been driving but a short time after his return, when he carried
east on one trip a coach load of English tourists, whose baggage loaded
down the stage.

Although he was driving at the average regulation speed, to make time at
each station, the Englishmen were growling all the time at the slow pace
they were going and urging Billy to push ahead.

Billy said nothing, other than that he was driving according to orders,
and which was, by the way, by no means a slow gait, and then listened to
their growling in silence, while they were anathematizing everything in
America, as is often the case with foreigners who come to this country.

Billy heard their remarks about the "bloody 'eathen in Hamerica," "the
greatness of hall things hin Hingland," "slow horses," "bad drivers,"
and all such talk, and drove calmly on into Horsehoe.

There the horses were changed, and the six hitched to the coach were
wild Pony Express animals that had been only partially broken in as a
stage team, which Billy delighted in driving.

As they were being hitched up Buffalo Billy smiled grimly, and said:

"I'll show those gents that we know how to drive in this country," and
those who knew him could see the twinkle of deviltry in his eyes.

At last, the Englishmen, having dined, took their seats, Billy gave the
order to let the animals go, and they started off at a rapid pace.

But Billy reined them down until they reached the top of the hill, and
then, with a wild yell, that suddenly silenced the grumbling of the
Englishmen, he let the six horses bound forward, while with utter
recklessness he threw the reins upon their backs.

Frightened, maddened by the lash he laid upon them, they went down the
mountain at a terrific speed, the coach swaying wildly to and fro, and
the Englishmen nearly frightened out of their wits.

Glancing out of the windows and up at Billy they called to him to stop
for the sake of Heaven.

But he only laughed, and tearing the large lamps from the coach threw
them at the leaders, the blows, and the jingling of glass frightening
them fearfully.

"For God's sake stop, driver!"

"He is mad!"

"We'll all be killed!"

"Stop! stop!"

Such was the chorus of cries that came from the coach, and in reply was
heard the calm response:

"Don't get excited, gents; but sit still and see how we stage it in the
Rocky Mountains."

Then, to add still greater terror to the flying team and the frightened
passengers, Billy drew his revolver from his belt and began to fire it
in the air.

As the station came in sight, the man on duty saw the mad speed of the
horses and threw open the stable doors, and in they dashed dragging the
stage after them, and tearing off the top, but not hurting Billy, who
had crouched down low in the boot.

The passengers were not so lucky, however, for the sudden shook of halt
sent them forward, in a heap and the arm of one of them was broken,
while the others were more or less bruised.

A canvas top was tacked on, the coach was run out, and a fresh team
hitched up, and Billy sung out:

"All aboard, gents!"

But he went on with an empty coach, for the Englishmen preferred to wait
over for another driver, and one of them was heard to remark that he
would rather go in a hearse than in a stage with such a madman holding
the reins.

But far and wide Billy's mad ride was laughed at, and he received no
reprimand from the company, though he richly deserved it.

CHAPTER XXI.

WINNING A REWARD.

Driving over the trail through the Rocky Mountains, the drivers were
constantly annoyed by road-agents, whose daring robberies made it most
dangerous for a coach to pass over the line.

If the driver did not obey their stern command: "Halt! up with your
hands!" he was certain to be killed, and the passenger within who
offered the slightest resistance to being robbed, was sure to have his
life end just there.

So dangerous had it become to drive the mountain passes, as several
drivers had been shot, the company found it difficult to get men to
carry the stages through, and offered double wages to any one who had
the courage to drive over the road-agents dominions.

Buffalo Billy at once volunteered for the perilous work, and his first
trip through he met with no resistance.

The next he was halted, and promptly obeying the order to throw up his
hands, he was not molested, though the gold-box was taken from the
coach, and all the passengers were robbed.

After this it was almost a daily occurrence for the road-agents to rob a
stage-coach, and the Overland Company offered a reward of five thousand
dollars for the capture of their chief and the band.

One day Billy drove away from the station with a coach full of women,
not a single man having the pluck to go, and promptly, at their favorite
place, the road-agents appeared.

"Halt! up with your hands!"

With military promptitude Buffalo Billy obeyed, and putting on the
California brakes, he drew his horses to a stand-still.

"Well, what have you got to-day that's worthy our picking, my Boy
Driver?" said the road-agent leader approaching the coach.

"Only women, and I beg you not to be brute enough to scare 'em," said
Billy.

"Oh! they must pay toll; and they generally have good watches; but what
is it, a woman's rights meeting, or a Seminary broke loose?'

"Ask 'em," was the quiet reply, and as the leader of the road-agents,
closely followed by his half-dozen men, all in masks, rode up to the
stage door, Billy suddenly drew his revolver and with the flash the
chief fell dead.

"Out, boys!" yelled Billy, and the stage doors flew open, dresses and
bonnets were cast aside, and nine splendid fellows began a rapid fire
upon the amazed road-agents.

One or two managed to escape; but that was all, for after four of their
number had fallen, the balance were glad enough to cry for quarter,
which was shown them only until a rope could be thrown over the limb of
a tree and they drawn up to expiate their crimes by hanging.

It was Billy's little plot, and he got the larger part of the reward,
and the credit of ridding the country of a daring band of desperate men.

Shortly after this bold act, hearing of the continued failing health of
his mother, Buffalo Billy, like the dutiful son he was, once more
resigned his position as stage-driver, and returned to Kansas, arriving
there a few months after the breaking out of the civil war in 1861.

CHAPTER XXII.

THE BOY SOLDIER.

After a very short stay at home Buffalo Billy began to show signs of
uneasiness, for he was too near Leavenworth, then an important military
post, not to get the soldier's fever for battles and marches.

He soon discovered that a company of cavalry was being raised to do
service in Missouri, and he at once enlisted and went as a guard to a
Government train bound to Springfield, Missouri, and after that he was
made a dispatch runner to the different forts, and met with many
thrilling adventures while in that capacity.

From this duty Buffalo Billy was sent as guide and scout to the Ninth
Kansas Regiment which was ordered into the Kiowa and Comanche country,
and it did good service there, and the young soldier added new laurels
to his name.

The second year of the war Billy became one of the famous "Red Legged
Scouts," formed of the most noted rangers of Kansas.

While a member of this daring band he was sent to guide a train to
Denver, but upon arriving there, learning of the severe illness of his
mother, he at once set off for home, going the entire distance alone and
making wonderful time through a country infested with dangers.

To his joy, he found his mother still living, yet failing rapidly, and
soon after his arrival she breathed her last and Buffalo Billy had lost
his best, truest friend, and the sad event cast a gloom over the life of
the young soldier.

As one of his sisters had married some time before, her husband took
charge of the farm, while Billy returned to the army and was sent into
Mississippi and Tennessee with his command.

But Billy did not relish military duty, for he had become too well
accustomed to the free life of the plains, and, resigning his position
as scout, started upon his return to the prairies.

But while on the way he came in sight of a pleasant farm-house, from
which came a cry of help in the voice of a woman.

Billy saw five horses hitched to a fence on the other side of the house;
but this array of numbers did not deter him when a woman called for aid,
and dismounting quickly he bounded upon the piazza, and was just running
into the door when a man came out into the hall and fired at him, but
fortunately missed him.

Bill instantly returned the fire, and his quick, unerring aim sent a
bullet into the man's brain.

At the shots a wilder cry came from within for help and two men dashed
out into the hall, and, seeing Billy, three pistols flashed together.

But Billy was unhurt, and one of his foes fell dead, while springing
upon the other he gave him a stunning blow with his revolver that put
him out of the fight, and then bounded into the room to discover an
elderly lady and a lovely young girl threatened by two huge ruffians,
who were holding their pistols to their heads to try and force from them
the hiding-place of their money and valuables.

Seeing Billy, they both turned upon him, and a fierce fight ensued,
which quickly ended in the killing of both ruffians by the brave young
soldier, who seemed to bear a charmed life, for he was unhurt, though he
had slain four men in a desperate combat and wounded a fifth.

Just then into the room dashed three men, and their weapons were leveled
at Buffalo Billy, and right then and there his days would have ended had
it not been for the courage and presence of mind of the lovely young
girl, who threw herself forward upon his breast, to the youth's great
surprise, and cried out:

"Father! Brothers! don't fire, for this man is our friend."

The old man and his sons quickly lowered their rifles, while the former
said:

"A friend in blue uniform, while we wear the gray?'

"I am a Union soldier, sir, I admit, and I was going by your home, heard
a cry for help, and found your wife and daughter, as I suppose them to
be, at the mercy of five ruffians, and I was fortunate enough to serve
them.

"But I will not be made prisoner, gentlemen."

Billy's hands were on his revolvers and he looked squarely in the faces
of those in his front, and they could see that he was a man who meant
what he said.

"My dear sir, I am a Confederate, I admit, and this is my home; but I am
not the one to do a mean action toward a Union soldier, and especially
one who has just served me so well in killing these men, whom I
recognize as jay-hawkers, who prey on either side, and own no allegiance
to North or South.

"Here is my hand, sir, and I will protect you while in our lines."

Billy grasped the hand of the farmer, and then those of his sons, and
all thanked him warmly for the service he had done them.

But Billy was surprised to find he was within the Confederate lines, and
found by inquiring that he had taken the wrong road a few miles back.

The farmer was the captain of a neighborhood military company, and it
was his custom to come home with his sons whenever he had opportunity,
and arriving just as the fight ended he saw a man in gray uniform lying
dead in the hall, and beholding Billy in the blue, had an idea that the
Northern soldiers were on a raid, had been met by some of his men, and
he certainly would have killed the young scout but for the timely act of
his lovely daughter, Louise.

And it was this very circumstance, the meeting with Louise Frederici,
the Missouri farmer's daughter, that caused Buffalo Billy to decide to
remain in the army, and not to return to the plains, for when stationed
in or near St. Louis, he could often see the pretty dark-eyed girl who
had stolen his heart away.

Before the war ended Buffalo Billy returned to Kansas, but he carried
with him the heart of Louise Frederici, and the promise that she would
one day be his wife.

After a short visit to his sisters he again became a stage-driver, and
it was by making a desperate drive down a mountain side to escape a band
of road-agents that he won the well-deserved title of the Prince of the
Reins.

CHAPTER XXIII.

IN FETTERS.

All the time that Buffalo Bill was driving stage his thoughts were
turning to dark-eyed pretty Louise Frederici in her pleasant Missouri
home, and at last he became so love-sick that he determined to pay her a
visit and ask her to marry him at once.

He was no longer a boy in size, but a tall, elegantly-formed man, though
his years had not yet reached twenty-one.

He had saved up some money, and off to Missouri he started, and his
strangely-handsome face, superb form and comely manners were admired
wherever he went, and people wondered who he was, little dreaming they
were gazing upon a man who had been a hero since his eighth year.

He soon won Louise over to his way of thinking, by promising he would
settle down, and they were married at farmer Frederici's home and
started on their way, by a Missouri steamer, to Kansas.

Arriving at Leavenworth, Buffalo Bill and his bride received a royal
welcome from his old friends, and they were escorted to their new home,
where for awhile the young husband did "settle down."

But at last, finding he could make more money on the plains, and that
being to his liking, he left his wife with his sisters and once more
started for the far West, this time as a Government scout at Fort
Ellsworth.

CHAPTER XXIV.

SEEING SERVICE.

It was while in the capacity of scout at Fort Barker and Fort Hayes that
Buffalo Bill added to his fame as an Indian-fighter, scout and guide,
for almost daily he met with thrilling adventures, while his knowledge
of the country enabled him to guide commands from post to post with the
greatest of ease and without following a trail, but by taking a straight
course across prairie or hill-land.

While in the vicinity of Hayes City Buffalo Bill had a narrow escape
from capture, with a party that was under his guidance; in fact death
would very suddenly have followed the capture of all.

A party of officers and their wives, well mounted and armed, were
determined not to go with the slow wagon-train from one fort to the
other, and accordingly Buffalo Bill was engaged to guide them.

He made known to them the great dangers of the trip, but they being
determined, the party started, some dozen in all.

For awhile all went well, but then Buffalo Bill discovered signs of
Indians, and hardly had the discovery been made when a large force, over
two hundred in number, came in sight and gave chase.

Of course the party were terribly alarmed, and regretted their coming
without on escort of soldiers.

But Buffalo Bill said quietly:

"You are all well mounted, so ride straight on, and don't push too fast,
or get separated."

"And you, Cody?" asked an officer.

"Oh, I'll be along somewhere; but I've got a new gun, a sixteen-shooter,
and I want to try just what it will do."

The Indians were now not more than half a mile away and coming on at
full speed, with wild yells and whoops, confident of making a splendid
capture.

Directing the officers what course to take, Buffalo Bill saw them start
off at full speed while he remained quietly seated upon his splendid
horse Brigham, a steed that equaled Sable Satan for speed and endurance.

It was evident that the red-skins were surprised at beholding a single
horseman standing so calmly in their path, and awaiting their coming,
and the party in flight looked back in great alarm as they saw that
Buffalo Bill did not move, appearing like a bronze statue of horse and
rider.

"What could it mean?"

"Was he mad?"

And many more were the comments made by the party, while the Indians
were equally as inquisitive upon the subject.

Nearer and nearer came the rushing band, for what had two hundred
mounted warriors to fear from one man?

Nearer and nearer, until presently Buffalo Bill was seen to raise his
rifle, and a perfect stream of fire seemed to flow out of the muzzle,
while the shots came in rapid succession.

It was a Winchester repeating rifle, and Buffalo Bill had been testing
it thoroughly.

And the result was such that the Indians drew rein, for down in the dust
had gone several of their number, while half a dozen ponies had been
killed by the shots; in fact, fired into the crowded mass of men and
horses, nearly every discharge had done harm.

With a wild, defiant war-cry, Buffalo Bill wheeled and rode away,
loading his matchless rifle as he ran.

It did not take long for Brigham to over-take the horses in advance, and
warm congratulations followed, for the officers and ladies had seen the
daring scout check the entire band of red-skins.

But though temporarily stunned by the effects of the shots, for the
Indians had not seen repeating rifles in those days, they soon rallied
and came on once more at full speed.

And again did the scout drop behind and await their coming, to once more
administer upon the amazed warriors a check that made them more
cautious, for they kept out of range.

Yet they kept up the chase all day, and only drew off when the fort came
in view, and the party arrived in safety in its walls.

CHAPTER XXV.

CAPTURING A HERD OF PONIES.

While at the fort the colonel in command complained at the non-arrival
of a drove of Government horses, as he was anxious to make a raid into
the Indian country, and Buffalo Bill volunteered to go and hurry the
cattle on.

He had been gone but a few hours from the fort when he crossed a trail
which he knew to have been made by a large Indian village on the move.

Cautiously he followed it, and just at sunset came in sight of the camp,
pitched at the head of a valley, and saw below a large herd of horses
grazing.

To return to the fort for aid he knew would take too long, so he
determined to make an attempt to capture the herd himself, and, with his
field-glass carefully reconnoitered the surroundings as long as it was
light.

He saw that the nature of the valley was such that the herd could only
escape by two ways, one through the Indian village and the other at the
lower end, where he had observed four warriors placed as a guard and
herders.

"That is my quartette," he said to himself, and mounting Brigham he
began to make his way around to the lower end of the valley.

After an hour's ride he gained the desired point, and then set down to
work.

Carrying with him in case of need a complete Indian costume, he was not
long in rigging himself up in it and painting his face.

Then he left Brigham in a canyon near by and cautiously approached the
entrance to the valley, which was not more than two hundred yards wide
at this point.

Peering through the darkness he saw the four dark objects, about equal
distances apart, which he knew were the ponies of the four warriors on
guard, and that they were lying down near in the grass he felt
confident.

Getting past the line of herders he boldly advanced toward the one
nearest the hill on the left, and knew he would be taken for some chief
coming from the village and accordingly not dreaded.

It was just as he had expected: the Indian herder saw him coming
directly from the village, as he believed and did not even rise from the
grass as Buffalo Bill drew near.

With a word in Sioux Buffalo Bill advanced and suddenly threw himself
upon the prostrate warrior.

There was a short struggle, but no cry, as the scout's hand grasped the
red-skin's throat, and then all was still, the Indian pony lariated
near, not even stopping his grazing.

Throwing the red-skin's blanket over his body, Buffalo Bill moved away a
few paces to where the pony stood, and called to the next herder in the
Sioux tongue to come to him.

The unsuspecting warrior obeyed, and the next instant found himself in a
gripe of iron and a knife blade piercing his heart.

"This is red work, but it is man to man and in a few days the whole band
would make a strike upon the settlements," muttered the scout, as he
moved slowly toward the position his enemy had left at his call.

As he reached the spot he saw the third warrior standing on his post and
boldly walked up to him, when again the same short, fierce, silent fight
followed and Buffalo Bill arose from the ground a victor.

The fourth, and only remaining guard he knew was over under the shadow
of the hill, and thither he went.

Arriving near he did not see him, and looking around suddenly discovered
him asleep at the foot of a tree.

"I'd like to let you sleep, Mr. Red-skin, but you'd wake up at the wrong
time, so you must follow your comrades to the happy hunting-grounds," he
muttered, as he bent over and seized the throat of the Indian in his
powerful gripe.

The warrior was almost a giant in size, and he made a fierce fight for
his life.

But the iron hold on his throat did not relax, and at last his efforts
ceased and his grasp upon the scout, which had been so great he could
not use his knife, weakened and there was no more show of resistance.

Then not an instant did Buffalo Bill tarry, but went up the valley,
rounded up the herd of horses and quickly drove them away from the
village, in which he knew slept half a thousand warriors.

Slowly he moved the large brute mass, and they went toward the mouth of
the valley and were soon out upon the prairie.

Then mounting Brigham he urged them on until out of hearing of the camp,
when he headed them for the fort.

It was a hard drive and taxed both Brigham and his rider fearfully; but
at last the herd was driven to a good grazing place a few miles from the
fort and Buffalo Bill left them and rode rapidly on, and just at dawn
reported his valuable capture and that the same horses could be used in
an attack upon the Indian camp.

The colonel at once acted upon his suggestion; the cavalrymen who had no
horses, loaded with their saddles, bridles and arms, went at a quick
march to the grazing place of the horses, and ere the day was three
hours old three hundred men were mounted and on the trail for the
red-skin village, while the remainder of the ponies were driven to the
fort.

Deprived of the greater part of their horses, the red-skins could march
but slowly; but they were in full retreat when Buffalo Bill led the
command in sight of them, and though the dismounted warriors fought
bravely, they were severely whipped and all their village equipage
captured or destroyed, while instead of attacking the white settlements
as they had intended, they were glad enough to beg for relief.

This gallant act made the name of Buffalo Bill, or Pa-e-has-ka (Long
Hair), as they called him, known to every Indian on the north-west
border, and they regarded him with the greatest terror, while it made
him an idol among the soldiers.

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE CHAMPION OF THE PLAINS.

As Buffalo Bill was known to be the most successful hunter on the
prairies, shortly after his capture of the herd of Indian ponies he
received an offer from the Kansas Pacific Railroad Company to keep their
workmen supplied with meat, and the terms allowed him were so generous
that he felt he owed it to his family, for he had become the father of a
lovely little daughter, Arta, born in Leavenworth, to accept the
proposition, and did so.

The employees of the road numbered some twelve hundred, and Buffalo
Bill's duty was to supply them with fresh meat, a most arduous task, and
a dangerous one, for the Indians were constantly upon the war-path.

But he undertook the work, and it was but a very short while before his
fame as a buffalo-killer equaled his reputation as an Indian-fighter,
and often on a hunt for the shaggy brutes, he had to fight the red
savages who constantly sought his life.

It was during his service for the Kansas Pacific that he was
rechristened Buffalo Bill, and he certainly deserved the renewal of his
name, as in one season he killed the enormous number of _four thousand
eight hundred and twenty buffaloes_, a feat never before, or since
equaled.

And during this time, in the perils he met with, and his numerous
hair-breadth escapes, in conflict with red-skins, horse-thieves and
desperadoes, it is estimated that over a score of human beings fell
before his unerring rifle and revolvers, while, he still bearing a
charmed life, received only a few slight wounds.

CHAPTER XXVII.

THE CHAMPION.

Some time after his great feat of killing buffalo for the Kansas
Pacific, Buffalo Bill was challenged by Billy Comstock, another famous
buffalo-hunter, and a scout and Indian interpreter, to a match at
killing the shaggy wild animals.

Those who knew Comstock and had seen him among a herd of buffalo, and
had heard of Buffalo Bill's exploits, were most desirous of making a
match between the two to discover which was the best "killer."

On the other side, those who knew Buffalo Bill and had seen him at work
at the buffaloes, were willing to bet high that he would prove the
champion.

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