The Bamberg herald. (Bamberg, S.C.) 1891-1972, March 25, 1920, Page 2, Image 2
THE REAL BUFFALO
BILL-SHOWMAN
INTERESTING STORIES ABOUT
FAMOUS SCOUT.
Mail of Character.
[ >
p.. ?^
Killed His First Indian When Eleven
Years Old and Was Best Rifle
Shot in the Northwest.
v
*.
William F. Cody,- world-famous as
''Buffalo Bill," killed his first Indian
when he was eleven years old, became
pioneer, cowboy, pony-express
. rider, army scout, peacemaker, and
finally, one of the world's greatest
?hmrmpn Ttic carppr was as wildly
picturesque as the. red-flannel jockeysuit
he wore on the day of a race that
might have been historic had not the
Indians been attracted by Bill's emblazonry
and interrupted. There
was one thing however, that this
modern Hercules was afraid of?a
little baby. He did not know how to
handle babies and was always afraid
L of squashing them. At least he did
not know how to handle the first that
V came
to bless his little gray home in
the west. Perhaps when the last one
came he had learned something by
experience, and was as proficient in
--_7- ambulating with a child as he was
in plugging a hole in a coin in the air.
<3ody had the weakness common to
hero and un-anointed alike. When
he met Miss Louisa Frederici in
' ^
Frenchtown, St. Louis, he promptly
fell in love, and she, in her "Memories
of Buffalo Bill" (D. Appleton &
t Co.), confesses that she had warning
X symptoms of that cardiac affection
pfc which comes to all women soon or ]
x 4,; late. A strange incident was connected
with the first meeting of these
two, for she slapped-him full in the
mouth before anyone had even so
much as said "permit me to present,"
etc. But the fault was with her cousin,
William, McDonald, a rollicking
young fellow who was as fond of a
7 practical joke as of a woman's smile. 1
She was cuddled, half asleep, in her
chair, awaiting the new beau who
was to be presented to her when the '
^ cousin and Buffalo Bill entered. McDonald
took advantage of his cousinr
ly connection, and pulled the chair
from under Miss Frederick She ;
swung wide with her right, and land%
ed?on Buffalo Bill's mouth. Later
' doubtless the unintentional cruelty
was cured by the best of treatments.
. Of course, the convent-bred girl?she
had but recently left convent walls :
when she met Mr. Cody?played a
proper game of coy hesitation until
She knew that this tall, straight, and
y . strong young man, with jet black
hair, finely molded features, and
vj clear, steady eyes, was such a one as
hr": any young woman would give her
W- heart for. She never had occasion to '
? ' . reverse that judgment. Bill Cody
was a true lover, a fond and consider- 1
sty ate husband, and a gentleman. And
Mrs. Cody proved herself a fitting
t'-* mate for this son of nature. It took'
v> a brave woman to.leave the comfort
| y ; and surety of a warm fireside to go (
IN but into the uncertainty of the plains, ]
to live where there was constant
danger from the Indians, to make a
home where men were rough and
; V rude, quicker with a revolver than
with a kind word, and where often the ]
members of her own sex who had '
strayed into the wilderness were beyond
the pale. But Mrs. Cody did it.
T She learned to ride and shoot with
ftlmnst h?r husband's skill, afld by
, '
her woman's wizardry she fashioned
;?and kept?a home. Here is a 1
o-. glimpse of Bill coming home to find 1
the first addition to his family. He
was far away on the plains when the
message was sent him by telegraph 1
as far as the wires would carry it, by
pony the rest of the way:
Days passed. Then came the
sound of hurrying feet, the booming ]
of a big voice, and I was in my husband's
arms. His eyes were glisten- !
Ir ins- 1
"Boy or girl?" he bellowed with 1
that big voice of his. 1
"A girl, Will," I answered.
"What are we going to name it?" 1
'He had taken the covering from the
I;. . baby's face and was jabbing a tre1
mendous finger toward her eyes, causing
me to believe every moment that 1
he would make a slip and ruin her ]
; v features forever. ]
"What'll we name her?" !
"Why, haven't you thought of a ]
name?" I asked. (
"Me?" he started wide-eyed.
"Gosh, I'm lost there. The only (
thing I ever named was a horse, and (
none of those names'd do, would 1
rt they?" 1
"Hardly. I've thought of the name
of Arta." J
"Pretty name. 'Lo, Arta!'" he J
roared?when Will became excited |
his voice was like a fig-horn. Natur- 1
ally, with this great being bending (
over her shouting his happiness, the c
baby began to cry. Will's face be- came
as long as a coffin.
"Kind of looks like she ain't pleas- i
*
ed," came his simple statement, and
I couldn't help laughing at the lugubriousness
of his expression.
"My-goodness, neither would you
like it if you had some one shouting
in your ear. Xow, don't poke your
finger in her eye! Don't you know
how to act around a baby?"
i
"Never got close enough before :to
take any lessons," he confessed.
"How do you lift her up, anyhow?"
And thus began a new lesson for
my scout. He could ride anything
made of horse-flesh, he could tear a
hole in a dollar flipped into the air
and then hit it again with a rifle-bullet
before it touched the ground; was
at home in the midst of danger, and
there never had been an Indian who
could best him in a fight, but when
it came to babies I was the master.
He was a willing student, but it
was a hard lesson. More than once
he turned to me in utter discouragement.
!
"Crickets!" he would say, "but
they're sure bundly, aren't they? I'm
A 1 rrr A a P aAiiaaV>^? or U ay? ' '
ai?a>5 aiiaiu ui squaouiug iici
"You ought to be, the way you're
carrying her," I'd reply?when I
wasn't laughing at his great-hearted,
clumsy efforts to amuse the tiny little
thing; "if you're so tired why
don't you give her to me?"
"Uh-huh. No: I'm all right. We're
getting along fine."
Some time later they journeyed
farther into the west. Bill, in partnership
with another man, had founded
a town, another Rome, in Kansas,,
and he was to be a millionaire. They
moved in the prairie-schooners,
strung, snake-like, in a long, crooked
line across the plain, with outriders
properly posted and the wagons
grouped so as to afford immediate defense
against attack. But only the
shack which sheltered the saloon remained
of the towrn when they arrived
on the scene. The rest of it had followed
the railroad. Her husband
summoned to a near-by fort, Mrs.
Cody had to spend the night in a
frontier saloon alone with her baby.
Below were bull-whackers and gamblers,
unaware of the presence of a
woman and a baby in the house. A
shot sounded, and in her mind's eyes
she saw the revolver-smoke, blood,
and a crumpled figure outside her
door. Absolute stillness ensued. But
the baby screamed, and presently
there came a knock. In her words:
"I did not answer. Again it came?
and again. I struggled to reply, but,
for a moment, the words simply
would not come. At last I managed
to get out:
" 'Who's there?'
" 'It's only us,' some one called, in
a voice that was trying terribly hard
to be pleasant; 'we didn't know anybody
wras in there. Where's Cody?'
" 'He's gone to the fort.' I said it
before I thought.
"But the answer reassured me.
" 'We're plumb sorry we made the
baby cry. One of us got to scuffling
around and his shootin'-iron went off.
Ain't nobody hurt. We're awful
sorry we disturbed you.'
"The news that the killing I had
imagined had not happened after all
brightened my .life considerably. And
I knew from the tone outside the
door that the barroom tough and
rough meant that he was standing in
humble penitence.
" 'That's all right,' I answered.
The baby's stopped crying now.'
There was another moment of apparent
consultation. Then the knock
came again.
"'Mrs. Cody!'
" 'Yes.'
" 'You dressed?'
" 'Yes.' i
" 'Do you reckon you could stand it
to let us in. We'd powerful like to
see that baby of Bill's.'
"Somewhat fearfully I rose and
pawed about at the side of the old
kerosene-lamp, at last to find an old
eight-day' match and light it. Then
[ opened the door.
"About ten men stood there, dirty,
unkempt, bearded, their hats in their
hands. They looked at me with a
sort of bobbing bow as I faced them;
then timorously, and even more fearfully
than I had walked, they stepped
into the room. One by one they involuntarily
lined up, somewhat after
the fashion of persons passing a bier,
rhen they gathered near the cot
where little Arta lay.
"Silently they watched her a moment,
their lips grinning behind their
tieavy, scragged Dearas. Tnen in a
half-embarrassed way, one of them
stuck out a finger. Arta reached for
it, caught it, and laughed. The bearded
one's face beamed.
"'Look at the little?!' he exclaimed,
then, suddenly realizing his
pathhs, pulled away his finger and
raded in the protection of the rest of
:he group. The others looked about
:hem with pained expressions, understanding
for once that here was a
place where profanity was not fashonable.
At last, the bartender, beng
more of a man of society that the
pthers, wiped his hands on his dirty
ipron, and, turning to me with a wide
?rin, asked:
" 'Pretty baby, ain't it? What is it,
(Continued on page 6, column 1.)
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