20

18

A MORNING BREATHER ALONE.

The love for the plains and mountains implanted in his heart when as a mounted messenger boy he rode from slow mounted messenger boy he rose from slow moving cattle train to train, carrying messages, rode the lonely stretches of the long overland trail on the swift pony express, hunted, trapped, scouted and guided, is there yet. He was yet in his teens when in '67 or '68 he killed the hundreds of buffalo to feed the thousands of men who were building the Kansas Pacific Railroad. Here he earned the name, now known the world over, "Buffalo Bill." Then later as scout and guide for military expeditions seeking hostile Indians, he learned all the then vast unsettled region lying between the Gulf and the Yellowstone, the Missouri and the mountains. On this great stage the pictuesque part he played from mounted messenger to skillful scouting, and the killing of "Yellow Hand" in a most dramatic hand-to-hand encounter on "War Bonnet Creek," with the armies of friend and foe for an audience, gained him the attention and friendship of such men as Sherman, Sheridan, Crook, Custer and Miles, who gave to him a love and respect he has held until death has, one by one, stayed the hands they ever after held out to him in friend and fellowship. General Miles alone remains of this galaxy of great Indian fighters of the past century, and only a year ago he was Col. Cody's guest on a hunt for big game in the Big Horn Basin.

"Red Cloud," "Spotted Tail" and "Sitting Bull" were the foes against whose skill as scout, plainsman and warrior Col. Cody was pitted in the seventies. In the two decades following, the sons of these stubborn old red men have followed their father's old foe all over the civilised world, and under his object-lesson tutelage have been taught the futility of the few, in savage warfare, waged against the many, in civilized warfare (if warfare is civilized). There is not a doubt but the lessons taught to the Indians Col. Cody carries with him, and by them taught to those at home, has done as much to avert hostilities, and more, than has fear of the handful of soldiers at frontier posts.

The Buffalo are gone, the elk and the antelope are rarely seen. Those yet in freedom are carefully protected by the stringent game laws. But the horses and cattle roam over the hills and through the valleys, once the home of the game, and of these Col. Cody owns large herds. The settler's cabin and the stockman's ranch houses and corrals are features of landscapes where once the cone-shaped tepees stood. But the air that fills men's lungs with health their brains with noble thoughts, and their veins with new life, still remains, and a sunshine that floods with glory hill and dale, forest and field, mound and mountain, still comes shimmering down through an atmosphere so pure, so sweet and so bracing, that it intoxicates when poor, weak, cramped, damp, decayed, smoke-shrivelled lungs from lower altitudes are distended by it. Then there are the grand corn and alfalfa fields of the Platte, the timothy meadows, the potato fields, and the golden grain fields in the Big Horn Basin, the Scouts' Rest Ranch. 26,000 acres under fence, the home of 1,000 horses, Rock Creek Ranch.

IN THE SADDLE.

Rock Creek Ranch, the summer home of the horses, and TE Ranch (TE the beautiful), nestling among cloud-reaching peaks in a sweet, peaceful vale, where elk, deer, and antelope mingle with the Hereford herds, the pretty cattle Col. Cody has made a home for at TE. Here, on every side of this lovely spot, is the grandest mountain scenery in America--from the wide windows and broad verandes of the ranch house nature's grandest architecture is on view. All around is the finest big game country on the American continent. Big horns, elk, and deer are at home within sight of the ranch house. Grizzlies, cinnamon, roachback and black bear are to be found if you look for them. The dash over the hills hunting range horses; the ride through the fat, sleek herds of cattle; the homecoming to find a meal of big horn, bear, elk, deer or antelope steak waiting for an appetite whetted to the keenest edge; the evening around the rousing fire in the wide-mouthed fireplace; the stories that are told, the songs that are sung; then the sleep--deep, soundless, and so sweet into which one sinks away who sleeps eight thousand feet above the sea. "Tis to these things Col. Cody speeds across land and sea, as soon as the show season ends. Asphalt, stone, brick and marble have no charms for him. He goes to the country he oves, and to the friends who love him. Prouder by far to be grasped by their hard hands

COL. CODY AND DR. FRANK POWELL AT THE TE RANCH.

and to be called "Billy" or "Bill" by them than when, as the world's greatest "man on horseback," he prances to the front of the world's greatest exhibition of the horse and horsemanship, where, amid the huzzas and hand-clapping of thousands of admirers he is grandiloquently introduced as "Col. William F. Cody," better known as "Buffalo Bill."

18

A MORNING BREATHER ALONE.

The love for the plains and mountains implanted in his heart when as a mounted messenger boy he rode from slow mounted messenger boy he rose from slow moving cattle train to train, carrying messages, rode the lonely stretches of the long overland trail on the swift pony express, hunted, trapped, scouted and guided, is there yet. He was yet in his teens when in '67 or '68 he killed the hundreds of buffalo to feed the thousands of men who were building the Kansas Pacific Railroad. Here he earned the name, now known the world over, "Buffalo Bill." Then later as scout and guide for military expeditions seeking hostile Indians, he learned all the then vast unsettled region lying between the Gulf and the Yellowstone, the Missouri and the mountains. On this great stage the pictuesque part he played from mounted messenger to skillful scouting, and the killing of "Yellow Hand" in a most dramatic hand-to-hand encounter on "War Bonnet Creek," with the armies of friend and foe for an audience, gained him the attention and friendship of such men as Sherman, Sheridan, Crook, Custer and Miles, who gave to him a love and respect he has held until death has, one by one, stayed the hands they ever after held out to him in friend and fellowship. General Miles alone remains of this galaxy of great Indian fighters of the past century, and only a year ago he was Col. Cody's guest on a hunt for big game in the Big Horn Basin.

"Red Cloud," "Spotted Tail" and "Sitting Bull" were the foes against whose skill as scout, plainsman and warrior Col. Cody was pitted in the seventies. In the two decades following, the sons of these stubborn old red men have followed their father's old foe all over the civilised world, and under his object-lesson tutelage have been taught the futility of the few, in savage warfare, waged against the many, in civilized warfare (if warfare is civilized). There is not a doubt but the lessons taught to the Indians Col. Cody carries with him, and by them taught to those at home, has done as much to avert hostilities, and more, than has fear of the handful of soldiers at frontier posts.

The Buffalo are gone, the elk and the antelope are rarely seen. Those yet in freedom are carefully protected by the stringent game laws. But the horses and cattle roam over the hills and through the valleys, once the home of the game, and of these Col. Cody owns large herds. The settler's cabin and the stockman's ranch houses and corrals are features of landscapes where once the cone-shaped tepees stood. But the air that fills men's lungs with health their brains with noble thoughts, and their veins with new life, still remains, and a sunshine that floods with glory hill and dale, forest and field, mound and mountain, still comes shimmering down through an atmosphere so pure, so sweet and so bracing, that it intoxicates when poor, weak, cramped, damp, decayed, smoke-shrivelled lungs from lower altitudes are distended by it. Then there are the grand corn and alfalfa fields of the Platte, the timothy meadows, the potato fields, and the golden grain fields in the Big Horn Basin, the Scouts' Rest Ranch. 26,000 acres under fence, the home of 1,000 horses, Rock Creek Ranch.

IN THE SADDLE.

Rock Creek Ranch, the summer home of the horses, and TE Ranch (TE the beautiful), nestling among cloud-reaching peaks in a sweet, peaceful vale, where elk, deer, and antelope mingle with the Hereford herds, the pretty cattle Col. Cody has made a home for at TE. Here, on every side of this lovely spot, is the grandest mountain scenery in America--from the wide windows and broad verandes of the ranch house nature's grandest architecture is on view. All around is the finest big game country on the American continent. Big horns, elk, and deer are at home within sight of the ranch house. Grizzlies, cinnamon, roachback and black bear are to be found if you look for them. The dash over the hills hunting range horses; the ride through the fat, sleek herds of cattle; the homecoming to find a meal of big horn, bear, elk, deer or antelope steak waiting for an appetite whetted to the keenest edge; the evening around the rousing fire in the wide-mouthed fireplace; the stories that are told, the songs that are sung; then the sleep--deep, soundless, and so sweet into which one sinks away who sleeps eight thousand feet above the sea. "Tis to these things Col. Cody speeds across land and sea, as soon as the show season ends. Asphalt, stone, brick and marble have no charms for him. He goes to the country he oves, and to the friends who love him. Prouder by far to be grasped by their hard hands

COL. CODY AND DR. FRANK POWELL AT THE TE RANCH.

and to be called "Billy" or "Bill" by them than when, as the world's greatest "man on horseback," he prances to the front of the world's greatest exhibition of the horse and horsemanship, where, amid the huzzas and hand-clapping of thousands of admirers he is grandiloquently introduced as "Col. William F. Cody," better known as "Buffalo Bill."