Part 2

On the 23d of October, and the day Bill formed the intention of making a bold effort to cross the lines, Gen. Price directed him to carry orders to Gen. Shelby instructing him where and when to make the attack on Curtis, and how to conduct the movement. This instruction made matters worse for Bill, and he determined to take the chances of life or death in evading the Confederate army and placing the orders in Gen. Curtis’ hands. He rode furiously back and lost no time in challenging a bragadocio sergeant to ride with him, for a wager, nearest the enemy’s lines. The sergeant tried to back out, but the boys began to hoot him so that their respective horses were wagered as to who could cross the open space and ride down to the creek. The two started off on a dash and soon the bullets from the Union forces were whistling around them. Bill kept as far from his partner as possible, and made his horse rear and plunge in order to attract the attention of the Union forces. They rode down to the creek together, when the Union men discovered Bill and shouted to him. This aroused the suspicion of the sergeant, who attempted to draw his pistol, but Bill’s eye was on him, and in a flash a ball went crashing through his brain. Bill grabbed the bit of the dead sergeant’s horse and plunged into the stream, which at the time was considerably swollen. The Confederates now saw what was up, and although the Union forces commenced a brisk fire, the Confederates seemed determined to kill Bill, the bullets falling around him like hail; but he managed to reach the opposite shore with his own and the dead sergeant’s horse without receiving any injury. Bill was taken into Gen. Curtis’ tent and afterwards publicly thanked for his daring and valuable services.

A RIDE WITH DEATH.

Gen. Curtis continued pushing southward, and it again became necessary for Bill to enter the enemy’s lines. There were three things particularly in Bill’s favor as a scout and spy. First of all, he was daring beyond example; second, he was an unerring shot, and third, he could change his appearance so radically as to defy detection; add to this a native cunning and adaptability, and his success and escapes are not so remarkable.

The second time he was sent into the lines he was accompanied by Nat. Tuckett, one of the dearest friends Bill ever had. They took a circuitous route like the one adopted by Bill in reaching Price’s army, and attached themselves to Kirby Smith at Austin, Texas, and soon afterwards moved north with Smith’s army into Arkansas. Curtis’ forces were not very strong, and while deploying down the Arkansas river they began to feel the strength of the Confederates. At length the main body of both armies came in view and stretched their lines of battle opposite each other about one thousand yards apart. A battery of ten-pounders was stationed on a small knoll to the left, which was kept playing on the Confederates, but evidently with little effect, for they did not change positions and appeared willing that the Union forces should expend their fire, for they did not return it except occasionally, apparently to let the Union forces know they were waiting for the attack. This condition of affairs continued for more than an hour, when suddenly two horsemen were seen to leave the ranks of the Confederates and ride furiously towards the Union lines. They had not gone a hundred yards before a detachment of cavalry started in pursuit and a rapid fire was commenced at the two riders. A company of Union men was deployed to intercept the pursuers, as it was evident that the two were trying to effect their escape. On they came, the pursued and pursuers, until the two reached a ditch about twenty feet wide and ten feet deep. All but two of the pursuers had been distanced, and when the pursued came to the ditch one of them cleared it with a bound, but the other fell dead under his horse from a pistol shot fired by the two advanced pursuers. The Union forces could then plainly see that the two trying to escape were Wild Bill and Nat. Tuckett. When his partner fell, Bill turned in his saddle and fired two quick shots, and both the advanced pursuers fell dead and their horses galloped riderless into the Union lines.

This ride has been pronounced by those familiar with the facts--hundreds of whom are yet living--as one of the most daring feats ever accomplished, and Bill’s escape from death one of the most remarkable of his many strokes of good fortune. The only motive he had for adopting so rash a measure was his dare-devil nature, which possibly became intensified by one or more drinks.

In accomplishing this perilous feat, Bill rode a black mare, to which he gave the name of Black Nell, and which he took great pains to train, with what success will be mentioned hereafter.

CAPTURED AND CONDEMNED TO DEATH.

Directly after performing this remarkable dare-devil deed “Wild Bill” again concluded to re-enter Price’s lines, although to return into the camp where he must now be familiarly known, was like inviting death. Some men are never so happy as when daring fate, and to approach near the dreadful summoner often becomes a fascinating adventure. It was so with Bill, for the greater the risks to be encountered, the greater his enjoyment. He loved danger, not as the soldier who would gather fame from the mouths of roaring cannons, but as one who extracts some pleasant intoxicant from the result. For the fourth time Bill disguised himself and again made a detour so as to re-enter General Price’s lines from the South. He met the fleeing army not many miles from Little Rock, and, riding a mule, with the make-up of an Arkansas farmer, he offered himself as a recruit. It was but a short time before he was discovered, and upon being reported he was arrested, and on the following day tried by court-martial. The trial lasted less than an hour, as he was so well known in connection with the escapades already narrated, and upon conviction he was sentenced to be shot on the succeeding day.

Fortune always favors the desperately brave, and we now have to record another extraordinary visitation of good luck to Bill. Price’s army had been fleeing more than a week before the victorious Curtis, whose troops outnumbered those of Price two to one. The pursuit had been continued until both armies were very much fatigued, and Price’s was so nearly exhausted that he was compelled to go into camp on a small creek twenty-five miles south of Little Rock. Wild Bill’s arms and legs were pinioned with thongs and he was confined in a one-room log-house with a single guard to prevent his escape. The house had but one door and one window, the latter being nearly two feet square and closed by a door made of clap-boards. Being bound hand and foot there was no avenue of escape, apparently, and Bill was forced to take a melancholy view of his situation. Night coming on, and the guard being nearly worn out, dozed off from time to time, feeling that his prisoner was perfectly secure. While meditating upon the execution announced to take place on the morrow, in which he was to be the chief character his eyes caught sight of the handle of an old case-knife which was sticking in an auger hole in one of the house logs. Changing his seat without arousing any suspicion from the guard, Bill managed to secure the rusty knife, and after long effort succeeded in cutting the cords which bound his wrists together. The dozing guard permitted him also to cut the cords on his feet, and the moment he was free Bill rushed on the guard like a tiger springing upon its prey and seizing him by the throat ripped open his abdomen in an instant. The guard fell dead from the knife thrusts without being able to give any alarm, and, seizing the musket and taking the guard’s coat, which he hastily put on, Bill fled out into the darkness and made good his escape.

Bill traveled nearly two days before reaching the Union lines, and upon his return he appeared before General Curtis, to whom he related his wonderful escape from death, and declined to act any longer as a spy in Price’s army, as his return again would, undoubtedly, have resulted in his death.

A FIGHT WITH THREE BUSHWHACKERS.

Being a scout, Bill was not permanently attached to Gen. Curtis’ army, but had a wide latitude in which to range; but he was fighting Confederates nearly all the time, sometimes in company with a small force and at other times single-handed. There are very few acquainted with the many phases the war assumed who do not remember the terrorism which existed in Southern Missouri from 1864 until the close of the rebellion. The country was infested with bushwhackers, whose single purpose was the murder of defenseless persons and running off valuable stock. Their depredations were terrible, and these marauding bands were composed of the renegades of both armies, which it was difficult for either side to punish. Their haunts were chiefly among the pineries and other places difficult to penetrate with a company of men so as to present an effective front.

Wild Bill, usually bent on some daring purpose, concluded to enter the pineries between Rolla and Springfield on a tour of discovery. He neglected to acquaint any one with his purpose, and left Rolla by night. After an absence of three days he returned to Rolla, leading three horses. Gen. Daviess, who was in command of the post, sent for Bill and asked him how he came in possession of the horses. The tone in which the General addressed the inquiry suggested to Bill the idea that the General entertained the suspicion that the horses were stolen. With a stolid indifference which characterized the man, Bill replied: “It’s none of your d--d business.” By Gen. Daviess’ orders, Bill was placed in the guardhouse, but he had so many fast friends, who felt satisfied that he came by the horses honorably, that on the night following, Bill appeared on the streets as usual. The General was outwitted, and, approaching Bill courteously, he received an explanation as follows: On the second day after Bill left Rolla, he met three bushwhackers in a lonely road, who commanded him to dismount. To this Bill returned the reply, “It shall be a fair fight,” and commenced firing. His first three shots killed his men. All of them fired at him, but the only effect was to split his saddle bow. Bill had some difficulty in catching the three horses, but he succeeded and brought them in. On the second day after getting into Rolla, Bill conducted a detail of six men to the spot where the fight occurred, and found the bodies of the three bushwhackers. The horses were turned over to Gen. Daviess.

BILL’S BOWIE-KNIFE DUEL WITH AN INDIAN CHIEF.

During the period that Bill was scouting for Gen. Curtis, he fought a duel to the death with an Indian chief, the particulars of which are partially forgotten, and the facts, therefore, can only be imperfectly recited. The details, so far as Dr. Thorne can remember them, are as follows: It will be remembered that during the civil war several tribes of Indians were employed, chiefly for foraging purposes, by both Federals and Confederates, the largest force being commanded by Gen. Jim Lane. Gen. Curtis had received information through a friendly tribe of Sioux Indians, in Kansas, that a hostile camp of Choctaws had been pitched on the Kaw river, a few miles west of Lawrence. The chief of the Sioux, Man-to-yu-kee, (Conquering Bear,) appeared before Gen. Curtis at Leavenworth and offered to accompany any white man he might choose to send, as a spy into the enemy’s camp. Gen. Curtis at once selected Wild Bill for the dangerous mission. Upon setting out on the journey, Bill had his suspicions aroused by the anxiety of the chief, and frankly told the Indian that if he betrayed him death would be the consequence.

The two proceeded cautiously, Bill’s eyes being almost constantly on the chief, lest the treachery he suspicioned would lead him into a fatal trap. His fears were realized when the two had got within a short distance of the hostile camp, for the chief had misled him and then suddenly disappeared. Bill managed, with his usual good fortune, to escape the Choctaws after getting inside the picket lines, although several times they came within a few feet of his hiding places. He made his way back to Leavenworth, where, after reporting the result of his trip, he directed his steps toward the camp of the Sioux.

Bill could never discover the motive which prompted the chief to thus betray him, but he was determined to be revenged. He was personally acquainted with many of the Sioux, and one of the most trusted ones he employed to lure the chief to a lone spot where he could take his revenge. The stratagem succeeded, and, ere the chief was aware, he was brought face to face with Bill in a sequestered spot thirty miles west of Kansas City. Bill told the chief that he intended to kill him for his treachery, and thereupon threw the Indian a pistol, telling him to defend himself. The chief knew Bill to be a dead shot, and objected to fighting a duel with pistols, but, being compelled to fight, he agreed to meet Bill in a hand-to-hand encounter with bowie-knives. Each carried such a knife, and therefore no further preliminaries were necessary. The bright, long, keen blades were unsheathed, and each holding a knife aloft in his right hand advanced to meet the other. The Indian fought shy and tried to back to cover, but Bill threatened to shoot him if he left a circle which he then made. Again the two came together, their hands clenched, at the center of the circle, and, as the chief was much the stronger, he held Bill’s striking hand for nearly half an hour, their knives being locked together. A favorable opportunity being presented, Bill partly tripped the chief, and the hold was loosened. For a third time they came together, but this time the result was fearful. Bill slashed at the Indian’s heart, but the blow lost its full effect by striking the buckskin vest and a buckle on the suspender which the chief chanced to wear. But the buckle was cleft in twain, and the Indian’s left side was cut open to the ribs. But Bill had not escaped, for the Indian, also aiming at Bill’s heart, struck his arm near the shoulder and stripped the flesh down the bone two inches.

The combatants presented a terrible spectacle as they came together a fourth time. The blood was streaming from each and making the ground fairly muddy over which they fought. The chief was the first to strike next, but the blow was caught on the edge of Bill’s knife, and, with a lightning parry and thrust, Bill cut the Indian’s throat, almost severing the head from the body.

The wound Bill received caused him great annoyance, for after partially healing, a fistula formed, which Dr. Thorne treated for several months before he recovered the use of his arm. This fight was one of the most terrible ever man engaged in, and nothing could evidence a man’s pluck more conclusively than this did Bill’s.

INDIAN AND BUFFALO SPECULATION.

Shortly after the close of the great civil war Wild Bill engaged in a novel enterprise, the result of which was a complete financial failure, though it furnished rare amusement for a great many wealthy people. He secured six fine, full-grown buffalos, and with four Commanche Indians, he made a trip to Niagara Falls, for the purpose of treating the visitors of that fashionable and famous resort to a genuine buffalo chase. The entertainment was duly advertised and a very large number of persons was attracted to witness real Indians, bespangled with beads, paint and feathers, in pursuit of a genuine herd of wild buffalos. The chase occurred on the Canada shore, and created the greatest excitement; hundreds of gentlemen engaging in the pursuit, mounted in excellent style, and rendering efficient aid at the close in securing the buffalos, unharmed, and returning them to pens previously provided. Niagara sight-seers, perhaps, never witnessed a more interesting and exciting entertainment, but they were not willing to pay properly for the amusement. No admission fee could be charged, as the chase could not be conducted within an enclosure, and Bill had to depend upon voluntary contributions, which were so meagre as to leave him a heavy loser. He was compelled to sell his buffalos and pilot his Commanche braves back to their reservation.

An incident occurred at the close of the chase worthy of record in this connection. Among the many spectators was a party of English snobs, one of whom seeing Bill dressed in buckskin breeches and generally frontier style, asked him if he were an Indian or white man. The question was addressed in a cockney way peculiar to English _haute tons_, and gave such offense that Bill replied: “This is the kind of a man I am,” at the same time striking the impertinent fellow a blow in the face which sent him sprawling into the street.

BILL’S DUEL AT SPRINGFIELD.

In the latter part of 1865, Wild Bill went to Springfield, Missouri, where he remained some time. It was while at this place that he fought a duel with Dave Tutt in the public square, and, as usual, killed his man, and came out of the encounter scathless The particulars of this affair are as follows: Springfield became a meeting place, after the war, of Confederates and Union men. Both sides recruited their forces from this section, and though the war had ended, many of the animosities then engendered still remained. Another peculiarity of the place consisted in the excess of border ruffianism, which made the town notorious. Murders had been so frequent in that section that the value of a life could scarcely be computed for its smallness. Among the rowdies was one Dave Tutt, a man of terrible passion, strong revenge, and one withal who had his private graveyard. He and Bill had met before; in fact, had shared the smiles of the same woman, a few years previous; but Bill had won “in a square court,” and Dave was anxious to meet Bill with pistols to settle the point finally. Some months passed while the two were in Springfield before any opportunity was presented for Dave to introduce a row, and when it came it was of Dave’s own manufacture. It is claimed that Bill killed a particular friend of Dave’s some years before, but of the truth of this we have no proof. One of the strong points of difference between the men consisted in the fact that Bill had been a Union scout and spy, and Dave had performed a similar duty for the Confederates.

Springfield was a great place for gamblers, and Bill and Dave belonged to the profession. One night, the two met in a saloon on the north side of the square, and Dave proposed a game with Bill, which, not being agreeable, Dave offered to stake a friend to play Bill. Thus the game was started. When Bill sat down to the game he drew out his heavy gold watch and laid it on the table, remarking that he intended to quit the game promptly at 12 o’clock. After nearly two hours playing he had won two hundred dollars, the greater part of which had come from Dave as a loan to his friend. Having broke the friend and Dave also, the latter remarked, “Bill, you’ve got money now, so pay me that forty dollars you’ve been owing me so long.”

“All right,” replied Bill, “there’s your money,” and thereupon passed the forty dollars to Dave.

“Now,” remarked Dave, further, “I want that thirty-five dollars I won off you Friday night.”

Bill’s reply was very courteous: “Beg your pardon, Dave, it was only twenty-five dollars; I put the amount down in my memorandum-book at the time.”

Receiving this mild reply, Dave reached across the table and took Bill’s watch, with the remark, “You’ll never get this watch until you pay me that thirty-five dollars.”

This threw Bill into a violent passion, although he restrained himself. Rising from his chair and looking piercingly into Dave’s eyes, he said: “I am anxious to avoid a row in this gentleman’s house. You had better put that watch back on the table.”

Dave returned an ugly look, and walked out of the room with the watch.

It was the only time, perhaps, in Bill’s life, that he permitted himself to be thus bullied. Everyone who knew him thought he had lost his pluck. It was indeed a seven days’ wonder with the people.

Dave kept the watch two days, during which time Bill remained in his room closely, revolving in his mind whether he should add another to his already long list of victims, or stop there and begin a life which flows in a more peaceful current. But he was not permitted to think and resolve without the advice of his friends. Almost every hour one or more of them would come to him with a new story about Dave’s boasts and intentions.

On the morning of the third day after the row, Dave sent word to Bill that he intended “to carry the watch across the square at noon, and to call the hour from Wild Bill’s watch.” Bill sent back the following reply: “Dave Tutt will not carry my watch across the square to-day unless dead men can walk.”

This reply satisfied everybody that there was going to be a death fight. Accordingly, shortly before noon, an immense crowd had assembled on the public square to see the duel.

At five minutes to twelve Wild Bill made his appearance on one side of the square opposite the crowd, where he could command a view of Tutt and his many friends, nearly all of whom were standing with their revolvers in their hands.

Just before twelve Dave stepped out from the crowd and started across the square. When he had proceeded a few steps and placed himself opposite to Bill, he drew his pistol; there was a report as of a single discharge, and Dave Tutt fell dead with a bullet through his heart. The moment Bill discharged his pistol--both pistols having been fired at the same instant--without taking note of the result of his shot, he turned on the crowd with his pistol leveled, and asked if they were satisfied; twenty or more blanched faces said they were, and pronounced the fight a square one. Bill expected to have to kill more than one man that day, but none of Dave’s friends considered it policy to appeal the result.

Bill was arrested, but at the preliminary examination he was discharged on the ground of self-defense. The verdict may not have been in accordance with the well defined principles of criminal jurisprudence, but it was sufficient, for all who know the circumstances believe that Tutt got his deserts.

A QUADRANGULAR DUEL IN NEBRASKA.

Bill remained in Springfield several months after killing Tutt, and until he was engaged, in 1866, to guide the Peace Commission, which visited the many tribes of Indians that year. Henry M. Stanley, the African explorer, accompanied the commission as correspondent of the New York _Herald_, and wrote some amusing sketches of Bill during the trip, but none of a nature which would make them appropriate in the history of his escapades. They related chiefly to his feats of markmanship, knowledge of Indian cunning, and droll humor.

Upon the return of the Peace Commission, Bill made a trip into the eastern part of Nebraska, and in the spring of 1867, fought a remarkable duel in Jefferson county, with four men as his antagonists. The particulars of this fight were obtained from a gentleman now living in St. Louis, who, at the time, lived within a few miles of where the fight occurred, and heard the details from eye-witnesses.