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My wife was delighted with the home I had given her amid the prairies of the far west.
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Having secured my Indian actors, I started for Baltimore, where I organized my combination, and which was the largest troupe I had yet had on the road.
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Quick as lightning Wild Bill pulled his revolver. The stranger fell dead, shot through the brain.
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We got more provisions for our whiskey than the same money, which we paid for the liquor, would have bought; so after all it proved a very profitable investment.
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My mother's sympathies were strongly with the Union. She knew that war was bound to come, but so confident was she in the strength of the Federal Government that she devoutly believed that the struggle could not last longer than six months at the utmost.
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General Custer was a close observer and student of personal character.
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The McCarthy boys, at the proper moment, gave orders to fire upon the advancing enemy.
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It was my effort, in depicting the West, to depict it as it was.
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Excitement was plentiful during my two years' service as a Pony Express rider.
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My restless, roaming spirit would not allow me to remain at home very long.
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After crossing the Smoky Hill River, I felt comparatively safe as this was the last stream I had to cross.
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I began to think my time had come, as the saying is.
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I felt only as a man can feel who is roaming over the prairies of the far West, well armed, and mounted on a fleet and gallant steed.
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The Indians were well mounted and felt proud and elated because they had been made United States soldiers.
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My first plan of escape having failed, I now determined upon another.
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I had the best buffalo horse that ever made a track.
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My debut upon the world's stage occurred on February 26, 1845, in the State of Iowa.
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But the West of the old times, with its strong characters, its stern battles and its tremendous stretches of loneliness, can never be blotted from my mind.
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The Free State men, myself among them, took it for granted that Missouri was a slave state.
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You who live your lives in cities or among peaceful ways cannot always tell whether your friends are the kind who would go through fire for you. But on the Plains one's friends have an opportunity to prove their mettle.
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So for twelve miles I rode with Sherman, and we became fast friends. He asked me all manner of questions on the way, and I found that he knew my father well, and remembered his tragic death in Salt Creek Valley.
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Frontiersmen good and bad, gunmen as well as inspired prophets of the future, have been my camp companions. Thus, I know the country of which I am about to write as few men now living have known it.
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The cholera had broken out at the post, and five or six men were dying daily.
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Indians were frequently off their reservations.