The preacher left his pulpit to a.s.sist in gathering up the scattered treasure, requesting the congregation to sing a hymn of thanksgiving while the task was being performed. At the conclusion of the hymn the sable divine returned to the pulpit and supplemented his sermon with the following remarks:

"Brudderen an' sisters: I obsahve dat Co'nel and Gen'l Buflo Bill am present. [A roar of 'Amens' and 'Bless G.o.d's' arose from the audience.]

You will wifhold yuh Amens till I git froo. You all owes yuh freedom to Abraham's bosom, but he couldn't hab went an' gone an' done it widout Buflo Bill, who he'ped him wid de sinnoose ob wah! Abraham Linc.u.m was de brack man's fren'--Buflo Bill am de fren' ob us all. ['Amen!' screamed a sister.] Yes, sistah, he am yo' fren', moreova, an' de fren' ob every daughtah ob Jakup likewise. De chu'ch debt am a cross to us, an' to dat cross he bends his back as was prefigu'd in de scriptu's ob ol', De sun may move, aw de sun mought stan' still, but Buflo Bill nebba stan's still--he's ma'ching froo Geo'gia wid his Christian cowboys to sto'm de Lookout Mountain ob Zion. Deacon Green Henry Turner will lead us in prayah fo' Buflo Bill."

The following is one of Will's own stories: During the first years of his career as an actor Will had in one of his theatrical companies a Westerner named Broncho Bill. There were Indians in the troupe, and a certain missionary had joined the aggregation to look after the morals of the Indians. Thinking that Broncho Bill would bear a little looking after also, the good man secured a seat by his side at the dinner-table, and remarked pleasantly:

"This is Mr. Broncho Bill, is it not?"

"Yaas."

"Where were you born?"

"Near Kit Bullard's mill, on Big Pigeon."

"Religious parents, I suppose?"

"Yaas."

"What is your denomination?"

"My what?"

"Your denomination?"

"O--ah--yaas. Smith & Wesson."

While on his European tour Will was entertained by a great many potentates. At a certain dinner given in his honor by a wealthy English lord, Will met for the first time socially a number of bl.u.s.tering British officers, fresh from India. One of them addressed himself to the scout as follows: "I understand you are a colonel. You Americans are blawsted fond of military t.i.tles, don't cherneow. By gad, sir, we'll have to come over and give you fellows a good licking!"

"What, again?" said the scout, so meekly that for an instant his a.s.sailant did not know how hard he was. .h.i.t, but he realized it when the retort was wildly applauded by the company.

Before closing these pages I will give an account of an episode which occurred during the Black Hills gold excitement, and which ill.u.s.trates the faculty my hero possesses of adapting himself to all emergencies.

Mr. Mahan, of West Superior, Wisconsin, and a party of adventurous gold-seekers were being chased by a band of Indians, which they had succeeded in temporarily eluding. They met Buffalo Bill at the head of a squad of soldiers who were looking for redskins. The situation was explained to the scout, whereupon he said:

"I am looking for that identical crowd. Now, you draw up in line, and I will look you over and pick out the men that I want to go back with me."

Without any questioning he was able to select the men who really wanted to return and fight the Indians. He left but two behind, but they were the ones who would have been of no a.s.sistance had they been allowed to go to the front. Will rode some distance in advance of his party, and when the Indians sighted him, they thought he was alone, and made a dash for him. Will whirled about and made his horse go as if fleeing for his life. His men had been carefully ambushed. The Indians kept up a constant firing, and when he reached a certain point Will pretended to be hit, and fell from his horse. On came the Indians, howling like a choir of maniacs. The next moment they were in a trap, and Will and his men opened fire on them, literally annihilating the entire squad. It was the Indian style of warfare, and the ten "good Indians" left upon the field, had they been able to complain, would have had no right to do so.

Will continued the march, and as the day was well advanced, began looking for a good place to camp. Arriving at the top of a ridge overlooking a little river, Will saw a spot where he had camped on a previous expedition; but, to his great disappointment, the place was in possession of a large village of hostiles, who were putting up their tepees, building camp fires, and making themselves comfortable for the coming night.

Quick as a flash Will decided what to do. "There are too many of them for us to whip in the tired condition of ourselves and horses," said our hero. Then he posted his men along the top of the ridge, with instructions to show themselves at a signal from him, and descended at once, solitary and alone, to the encampment of hostiles. Gliding rapidly up to the chief, Will addressed him in his own dialect as follows:

"I want you to leave here right away, quick! I don't want to kill your women and children. A big lot of soldiers are following me, and they will destroy your whole village if you are here when they come."

As he waved his hand in the direction of the hilltop, bra.s.s b.u.t.tons and polished gun-barrels began to glitter in the rays of the setting sun, and the chief ordered his braves to fold their tents and move on.

CHAPTER x.x.x. -- CODY DAY AT THE OMAHA EXPOSITION.

SINCE 1893 the "Wild West" exhibitions have been restricted to the various cities of our own land. Life in "Buffalo Bill's Tented City,"

as it is called, is like life in a small village. There are some six hundred persons in the various departments. Many of the men have their families with them; the Indians have their squaws and papooses, and the variety of nationalities, dialects, and costumes makes the miniature city an interesting and entertaining one.

The Indians may be seen eating bundles of meat from their fingers and drinking tankards of iced b.u.t.termilk. The Mexicans, a shade more civilized, shovel with their knives great quant.i.ties of the same food into the capacious receptacles provided by nature. The Americans, despite what is said of their rapid eating, take time to laugh and crack jokes, and finish their repast with a product only known to the highest civilization--ice-cream.

When the "Wild West" visited Boston, one hot June day the parade pa.s.sed a children's hospital on the way to the show-grounds. Many of the little invalids were unable to leave their couches. All who could do so ran to the open windows and gazed eagerly at the pa.s.sing procession, and the greatest excitement prevailed. These more fortunate little ones described, as best they could, to the little sufferers who could not leave their beds the wonderful things they saw. The Indians were the special admiration of the children. After the procession pa.s.sed, one wee lad, bedridden by spinal trouble, cried bitterly because he had not seen it. A kind-hearted nurse endeavored to soothe the child, but words proved unavailing. Then a bright idea struck the patient woman; she told him he might write a letter to the great "Buffalo Bill" himself and ask him for an Indian's picture.

The idea was taken up with delight, and the child spent an eager hour in penning the letter. It was pathetic in its simplicity. The little sufferer told the great exhibitor that he was sick in bed, was unable to see the Indians when they pa.s.sed the hospital, and that he longed to see a photograph of one.

The important missive was mailed, and even the impatient little invalid knew it was useless to expect an answer that day. The morning had hardly dawned before a child's bright eyes were open. Every noise was listened to, and he wondered when the postman would bring him a letter. The nurse hardly dared to hope that a busy man like Buffalo Bill would take time to respond to the wish of a sick child.

"Colonel Cody is a very busy man," she said. "We must be patient."

At perhaps the twentieth repet.i.tion of this remark the door opened noiselessly. In came a six-foot Indian, clad in leather trousers and wrapped in a scarlet blanket. He wore a head-dress of tall, waving feathers, and carried his bow in his hand.

The little invalids gasped in wonder; then they shrieked with delight.

One by one, silent and noiseless, but smiling, six splendid warriors followed the first. The visitors had evidently been well trained, and had received explicit directions as to their actions.

So unusual a sight in the orderly hospital so startled the nurse that she could not even speak. The warriors drew up in a line and saluted her. The happy children were shouting in such glee that the poor woman's fright was unnoticed.

The Indians ranged themselves in the narrow s.p.a.ce between the cots, laid aside their gay blankets, placed their bows upon the floor, and waving their arms to and fro, executed a quiet war-dance. A sham battle was fought, followed by a song of victory. After this the blankets were again donned, the kindly red men went away, still smiling as benignly as their war paint would allow them to do. A cheer of grat.i.tude and delight followed them down the broad corridors. The happy children talked about Buffalo Bill and the "Wild West" for weeks after this visit.

North Platte had long urged my brother to bring the exhibition there.

The citizens wished to see the mammoth tents spread over the ground where the scout once followed the trail on the actual war-path; they desired that their famous fellow-citizen should thus honor his home town. A performance was finally given there on October 12, 1896, the special car bearing Will and his party arriving the preceding day, Sunday. The writer of these chronicles joined the party in Omaha, and we left that city after the Sat.u.r.day night performance.

The Union Pacific Railroad had offered my brother every inducement to make this trip; among other things, the officials promised to make special time in running from Omaha to North Platte.

When we awoke Sunday morning, we found that in some way the train had been delayed, that instead of making special time we were several hours late. Will telegraphed this fact to the officials. At the next station double-headers were put on, and the gain became at once perceptible.

At Grand Island a congratulatory telegram was sent, noting the gain in time. At the next station we pa.s.sed the Lightning Express, the "flyer,"

to which usually everything gives way, and the good faith of the company was evidenced by the fact that this train was side-tracked to make way for Buffalo Bill's "Wild West" train. Another message was sent over the wires to the officials; it read as follows:

"Have just noticed that Lightning Express is side-tracked to make way for Wild west. I herewith promote you to top seat in heaven."

The trip was a continued ovation. Every station was thronged, and Will was obliged to step out on the platform and make a bow to the a.s.sembled crowds, his appearance being invariably greeted with a round of cheers.

When we reached the station at North Platte, we found that the entire population had turned out to receive their fellow-townsman. The "Cody Guards," a band to which Will presented beautiful uniforms of white broadcloth trimmed with gold braid, struck up the strains of "See, the Conquering Hero Comes." The mayor attempted to do the welcoming honors of the city, but it was impossible for him to make himself heard. Cheer followed cheer from the enthusiastic crowd.

We had expected to reach the place some hours earlier, but our late arrival encroached upon the hour of church service. The ministers discovered that it was impossible to hold their congregations; so they were dismissed, and the pastors accompanied them to the station, one reverend gentleman humorously remarking:

"We shall be obliged to take for our text this morning 'Buffalo Bill and his Wild West,' and will now proceed to the station for the discourse."

Will's tally-ho coach, drawn by six horses, was in waiting for the incoming party. The members of his family seated themselves in that conveyance, and we pa.s.sed through the town, preceded and followed by a band. As we arrived at the home residence, both bands united in a welcoming strain of martial music.

My oldest sister, Julia, whose husband is manager of "Scout's Rest Ranch," when informed that the "Wild West" was to visit North Platte, conceived the idea of making this visit the occasion of a family reunion. We had never met in an unbroken circle since the days of our first separation, but as a result of her efforts we sat thus that evening in my brother's home. The next day our mother-sister, as she had always been regarded, entertained us at "Scout's Rest Ranch."