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occasion a Mr. Liebman, of Chicago, was killed, and his companion shot through the shoulder.
After this stormy period it was fitted up as a treasure coach, and naturally became an object of renewed interest to the robbers ; but owing to the strong force of what are known as "shotgun messengers," who accompanied the coach, it was a long time before the bandits succeeded in accomplishing their purpose. Among the most prominent of these messengers were Scott Davis, a splendid scout, and one of the self-appointed undertakers of many of the lawless characters of the neighborhood ; Boone May, one of the best pistol shots in the Rocky Mountain regions, who killed Bill Price in the streets of Deadwood, together with "Curley" Grimes, one of the road agents ; Jim May, a worthy brother--a twin in courage if not in birth. Few men have had more desperate encounters than he, and the transgressors of the law have had many an occasion to feel tho results of his keen eye and strong arm whenever it has become necessary to face men who are prepared to "die with their boots on." Still another of these border heroes (for such they may be justly termed) is Gail Hill, now the deputy sheriff of Deadwood, and his frequent companion was Jesse Brown, an old-time Indian fighter, who has a record of incident and adventure that would make a book. These men constituted a sextette of as brave fellows as could be found on the frontier, and their names are all well known in that country.
At last, however, some of them came to grief. The bandits themselves were old fighters. The shrewdness of one party was offset by that of the other, and on an unlucky day the celebrated Cold Spring tragedy occurred. The station had been captured, and the road agents secretly occupied the place. The stage arrived in its usual manner, and without a suspicion of danger the driver, Gene Barnett, halted at the stable door. An instant afterward a volley was delivered that killed Hughey Stevenson, sent the buckshot through the body of Gail Hill, and dangerously wounded two others of the guards. The bandits then captured the outfit, amounting to some sixty thousand dollars in gold.
On another occasion the coach was attacked, and, when the driver was killed, saved by a woman--Martha Canary, better known at the present time in the wild history of the frontier as "Calamity Jane." Amid the fire of the attack, she seized the lines, and, whipping up the team, safely brought the coach to her destination.
When "BUFFALO BILL" returned from his scout with Gen. Crook, in 1876, he rode in this self-same stage, bringing with him the scalps of several of the Indians whom he had met. When afterwards he learned that it had been attacked and abandoned, and was lying neglected on the plains, he organized a party, and starting on the trail, rescued and brought the vehicle into camp.
With the sentiment that attaches to a man whose life has been identified with the excitement of the Far West, the scout has now secured the coach from Col. Voorhees, the manager of the Black Hills stage line, and hereafter it will play a different role in its history from that of inviting murder and being the tomb of its passengers. And yet the "Deadwood Coach" will play no small part in the entertainment that has been organized by "BUFFALO BILL" and partner for the purpose of representing some of the most startling realities of Western life, in a vivid representation of one of the Indian and road agents' combined attack.
THE PASSING OF THE COW-BOY.
Until the advent of Buffalo Bill's Wild West introduced the cow-boy to the world at large, the great majority of people had altogether wrong notions about him. This was due chiefly to the misrepresentations of the cheap romances and the erroneous articles which had appeared from time to time in Eastern magazines and periodicals, which made a sort of "half horse, half alligator" character to him, and clothed him in a garb of absurdity and misconception. That civilized life to which his calling necessarily made him largely a stranger has, since Colonel Cody coaxed him from the plains, grown to justly regard him as a singularity interesting fellow, and ordinarily a very brave, quiet and unassuming one ; generous to a fault, and a fast friend under all circumstances. It does not take him long to evidence in the great Wild West arena that he possesses the qualities of courage, clearheadedness, agility and endurance, which are absolutely necessary in the business from which his title is grained. In the pursuit of that business he is called upon to undergo the most severe hardships which can fall to the lot of any man, and he is schooled to bear them with admirable and uncomplaining fortitude. Rising at three o'clock in the morning, riding
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all day at top speed and taking all sorts of chances, without regard to life or limb, he has little time for tomfoolery or lawless carousing. Bad food, little sleep, constant anxiety and exhausting work soon undermine the strongest constitution, and at forty years of-age, and often much sooner, rough, hard lines in his face tell the story with a plainness not to be mistaken.
[Image] GEN. MILES AND COL. MAUS RIDING BUFFALO BILL'S WESTERN WAR HORSES AT PORTO RICO. (FROM PHOTO TAKEN ON THE FIELD, AUGUST 30, 1898.)
TWO NOTED WAR HORSES.
The hundreds of horses from different countries and of different strains employed by Buffalo Bill's Wild West in transportation, parade and exhibition, collectively, form a living attraction, full of nobility, beauty, intelligence, fire and fleetness, while in the great gathering are individual steeds full worthy of more than passing inspection and mention. Among these are included "Knickerbocker" and "Lancer," which Colonel Cody sent with the army to Porto Rico for his own use in the event of his being called to the front by General Miles to Colonel Cody shows: "MY DEAR CODY: "Your horses are now in Washington, all right. You did not come to Porto Rico, therefore I rode them myself, and they are the only horses brought back to America. "NELSON A. MILES."
Regular army officers who had served with General Miles in the Indian campaigns, had given him the reputation of being the hardest rider in the service. "He can cover more ground than any other man in the army and be fresh as a daisy at the end," they told the troopers in Porto Rico, and an escort of thirty-seven of them, whom he rode to a finish and nearly out of their saddles during a prolonged tour of inspection, sorely conceded that he was truly a Rough Rider par excellence. "Knickerbocker," a powerful, plucky gray, was just the mount required by such a horseman, and carried him triumphantly through the more arduous work of the campaign; "Lancer," a beautiful sorrel of less weight and stamina, being reserved for lighter service.
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BUFFALO BILL AND THE BULLFIGHTERS.
Colonel Cody had a little war of his own with the Spaniards before Dewey, Sampson, Miles, Roosevelt and the rest took a hand in the grim game. It happened when he was in Barcelona, Spain, with his wild West. One evening after the performance he got into his carriage, drove to the various newspaper offices and had this liberal offer appended to his advertisements : "I will wager any amount that the people in my show can lasso and ride any bull in Spain."
He didn't think it necessary to tell his interpreter of this, and went home and to bed. He was stopping at the House of Four Nations, which was built in a square and had a large, beautiful court in the centre. What subsequently occurred we will let the Colonel tell in his own language : "Very early the next morning my interpreter and agent came rushing into my room, crying: "'Get up! Get up! Dress at once; they are going to kill you!' "Who? I asked. "'The bullfighters,' they answered breathlessly. 'Peep into the court below at the maddened mob.' "I did, arid, by jiminy, it was a sight! The court was jammed with men as mad as so many mad bulls, and they were flying here, there and everywhere, threatening to tear me limb from limb. I dressed leisurely and put a Colt's revolver in my hip pocket--just to keep me company, you know--and then I went downstairs. I got the interpreter to ask them what they meant. Their spokesman demanded to know why I had put such an insult to them in the papers, and at that every matador of 'em brandished a morning paper. I told them that I had merely made that wager, and was ready to stick to it. Then they asked me how much I would wager. Now the people of Spain are distressingly poor, so I offered to bet 200,000pesetas, for I knew they couldn't cover it. This crazed them, and they tried to get at me. In the meantime my agent had gone for the American Consul and police officers to protect me and quell the riot, and I saw I had to talk for time. I began to drop, offering 175,000 pesetas, and I had got down to 50,000 and was losing wind when the Consul and officials arrived. The Consul saw that there was blood on the face of the moon, and he and the police advised me to withdraw my challenge. The bullfighters told them that I had attempted to ruin the national sport and had grossly insulted them; that they had to make people believe that these bulls were very fierce, and that no one in the world could capture and ride them but themselves, or else the sport would die an ignominious death, so I withdrew my wager. But I had to have police protection during the rest of my stay in Spain."
[IMAGE] A GROUP OF COL. ROOSEVELT'S ROUGH RIDERS, NOW WITH BUFFALO BILL
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ORIENTAL WONDERS. PHENOMENAL PERFORMANCES BY FAMOUS ARABIAN EQUESTRIANS AND ATHLETES. There are some things in which the Wild East doesn't have to take off its turban to the Wild West, and the renowned troupe of Riffian Arabs--right from the scorching sands-- with Buffalo Bill's Wild West and Congress of Rough Riders of the World will prove it. Their head to head balancing is a prodigy of equilibristic art, strength and endurance. The nimblest pair of legs could scarce keep abreast of their hand-spring evolutions clear across the great arena. They walk on their hands as though
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brought up to that kind of locomotion exclusively. They launch themselves in high and hazardous spreads and side long somersaults over bayonets and sword blades. They tumble as though tossed in the arms of an invisible tornado, and they climb atop of one another with the balance and agility of monkeys, until nine of them form a high pyramid, of which one herculean son of the Prophet is the sole base. Meanwhile, and in fact all the while, the sage Dervish of the tribe is making a human teetotum of his respected self, and rotating more rapidly than the double screws of an Atlantic liner. So rapidly and continuously does he whirl around with extended arms that, unless he is iron-hooped, it is a wonder that he does not burst all to pieces and strew the Oriental scene with sanctified fragments.
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THE VAQUERO OF THE SOUTHWEST.
Between the "cow-boy" and the "vaquero", there is only a slight line of demareation. The one is usually an American, inured from boyhood to the excitements and hardships of his life, and the other represents in his blood the stock of the Mexican, or it may be of the half-breed.
In their work, the methods of the two are similar, and to a certain extent, the same is true of their associations. Your genuine vaquero, however, is generally, when off duty, more of a dandy in the style and get-up of his attire than his careless and impetuous compeer. He is fond of gandy clothes, and when you see him riding well mounted into a frontier town, the first thought of an Eastern man is that a circus has broken loose in the neighborhood, and this is one of the performers. The familiar broad-brimmed sombrero covers his head; a rich jacket, embroidered by his sweetheart, perhaps, envelope his shapely shoulders; a sash of blue or red silk is wrapped around his waist, from which protrude a pair of revolvers; and buckskin trousers silt from the knee to the foot, and ornamented with rows of brass or silver buttons, complete his attire, save that enormous spurs, with jingling pendants, are fastened of the boots, and announce in no uncertain sound the presence of the beau ideal vaquero in full dress.
His saddle of the pure Mexican type, with high pommel, whereon hangs the inevitable lariat, which in his hands is almost as certain as a rifle shot.
Ordinarily, he is a peaceful young fellow, but when the whiskey is present in undue proportions he is a good individual to avoid. Like the cow-boy, he is brave, nimble, careless of his own life, and reckless, when occasion requires, of those of other people. At heart, he is not bad. The dependence on himself which his calling demands, the dangers to which he is subjected while on duty, all compel a sturdy self-reliance, and he is not slow in exhibiting the fact that he possesses it, in a sufficient degree at least for his own protection. True types of this peculiar class seen nowhere else than on the plains, will be among the attractions of the show; and the men will illustrate the methods of their lives in connection with the pursuit and catching of animals, together with the superb horsemanship which is characteristic of their training.