| 184Cash paid for facts or
interesting fiction.
The bell boy returned in a few minutes bearing a sadly-worn three spot of clubs, upon which was written in bold but not perfect hand.
Peass bearer to Buffalo Bill's room. That's the kind of a man I am.
WM. H. CODY
Alias Buffalo Bill
I followed the young tray-bearer, nad soon found myself
IN BILL'S ROOM
It may not be generally known, therefore I will state that, for a frontiersman - man who has slept on "God's greater per-rerie, with nought above him bit the star speckled bed quilt of heaven (see Cale Durg's soliloquy), and a buffalo chip for a
pillow - "Bison William" and his friend "Texas Jack" now put on more style than a cheap dry goods clerk at Long Beach, and if there are any comforts and luxuries in the market that these Indian -slayers do not enjoy, it is because the sellers do not advertise and the two latter do not see them, the apartment of the buffalo hunters was handsomely furnished, and luxurious - looking easy chairs and sofas invited one to rest on every side. I found Bill and Jack sitting cross legged on the floor, the former smoking a thirty-five cent cigar, and the latter polishing his meerschaum pipe on the tail of his buckskin hunting shirt. "Glad to see ye, Cap." Said Billiam; "will you have one of them invalids chairs or squat on your haunches like a white man?" I expressed my intention of doing as buffaloes do, when with them or their namesake, and so sat down, tailor-fashion, after shaking hand with "Texas jack". After a few moments of introductory conversation, during which Bill told me he received $1,000 a night for slaughtering the King's English, where he once made but $1,000 a year by hunting buffaloes. I began my interview by asking abruptly
WHAT BILL THOUGHT OF THE MODOCS.
"Well Cap (said the man who has shed the blood of more Indians on the stage than any other individual living), I haven't thought much about 'em, but I hear a beep of talk around the country since Capt.Jack lifted the hair of the commissioners and Gen. Canby. I'm surprised, I am, that the government doesn't clean 'em out forthwith."
"But," I remarked, "you must remember that these Modocs are in a natural cave or fortress where the soldier cannot reach them without great trouble."
"Reach H -1" profanely interrupted Jack and Bill at the same instant. "Give me Old 'Nancy Ann,' my breech loader there, and let Jack have a lasso and scalping-knife, and I'll bet every cent I own we can clean out every bloody red son-of-a-corkscrew
of 'em inside of thirty days, and do our own scouting and cooking."
"You have shot Indians then, before on your life?" I asked.
"You can bet your life I have" replied William,
"I have a shot and stabbed 'em, cut their bowels out with my knife, harpooned 'em, clubbed 'em to death, in fact...
| 184Cash paid for facts or
interesting fiction.
The bell boy returned in a few minutes bearing a
sadly-worn three spot of clubs, upon which was
written in bold but not perfect hand.
Peass bearer to Buffalo Bill's room.
That's the kind of a man I am
WM. H. CODY
Alias Buffalo Bill
I followed the young tray-bearer, nad soon found
myself
IN BILL'S ROOM
It may not be generally known, therefore I will
state that, for a frontiersman - man who has
slept on "God's greater per-rerie, with nought above
him bit the star-speckled bed quilt of heaven (see
Cale Durg's soliloquy), and a buffalo chip for a
pillow - "Bison William" and his friend "Texas
Jack" now put on more style than a cheap dry
goods clerk at Long Beach, and if there are any
comforts and luxuries in the market that these
Indian -slayers do not enjoy, it is because the sellers
do not advertise and the two latter do not see
them, the apartment of the buffalo hunters was
handsomely furnished, and luxurious - looking
easy chairs and sofas invited
one to rest on every side. I found
Bill and Jack sitting cross legged on the floor, the
former smoking a thirty-five cent cigar, and the
latter polishing his meerschaum pipe on the tail of
his buckskin hunting shirt. "Glad to see ye, Cap."
Said Billiam; "will you have one of them
invalids chairs or squat on your haunches like a
white man?" I expressed my intention of doing as
buffaloes do, when with them or their namesake,
and so sat down, tailor-fashion, after shaking
hand with "Texas jack". After a few moments
of introductory conversation, during which Bill
told me he received $1,000 a night for slaughtering
the King's English, where he once made but $1,000 a
year by hunting buffaloes.
I began my interview by asking abruptly
WHAT BILL THOUGHT OF THE MODOCS.
"Well Cap (said the man who has shed the
blood of more Indians on the stage than any other
individual living), I haven't thought much about
'em, but I hear a beep of talk around the country
since Capt.Jack lifted the hair of the commissioners
and Gen. Canby. I'm surprised, I am, that the
government doesn't clean 'em out forthwith."
"But," I remarked, "you must remember that
these Modocs are in a natural cave or fortress
where the soldier cannot reach them without great
trouble."
"Reach H -1" profanely interrupted Jack and
Bill at the same instant. "Give me Old 'Nancy Ann,'
my breech loader there, and let Jack have a lasso
and scalping-knife, and I'll bet every cent I own we
can clean out every bloody red son-of-a-corkscrew
of 'em inside of thirty days, and do our own scouting
and cooking."
"You have shot Indians then, before on your life?"
I asked.
"You can bet your life I have" replied William,
"I have a shot and stabbed 'em, cut their bowels
out with my knife, harpooned 'em, clubbed 'em
to death, in fact...
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