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 theirtime 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.
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 savedBilly’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.
THE ATTACK ON THE OVERLAND COACH.
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.