Tarrant County, Texas - Bios: Harry Buffington Cody
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		BIOS:  Harry Buffington Cody
		
   Selected and converted.American Memory, Library of Congress.   
   Washington, 1994.   
   Preceding element provides place and date of transcription only.   
   This transcription intended to be 99.95% accurate.   
   For more information about this text and this American Memory
   collection, refer to accompanying matter.   
   U.S. Work Projects Administration, Federal Writers' Project (Folklore
   Project, Life Histories, 1936-39); Manuscript Division, Library of
   Congress.Copyright status not determined.   
   00011   
   Phipps, Woody FOLKSTUFF-RANGE LORE   
   Rangelore   
   Tarrant Co., Dist. #7 [84?]   
   Page #1   
   FC
   --------------------------------------------------------------------
   
   Harry Buffington Cody (called Buffalo Cody by his friends because of
   his relationship with the genuine Buffalo Bill and his middle name,
   Buffington, 83, was born Sept. 20, 1854. 16 Mi. N. of Yankton, Terr.
   of Dakota. A tribe of Sioux Indians raided his father's farm, killing
   his parents. Red Cloud, chief of the tribe, took Cody to raise. Four
   Yrs later, Cody escaped the tribe. Being an orphan and not having any
   one to care for him, he became a rover, living on wild game, fish and
   fowl. He was employed as a cowboy by the Bedwicke Cattle Co. of
   [Breashitt?] Co., Ky., in 1869. He quit that Co. the next Yr and
   roamed again until he met a number of other rovers, who had decided to
   go to Texas. They entered Texas just N. of Gainsville, and Cody was
   employed as a trail driver by [Red?] Watson, trail boss of a herd of
   cattle going to Hays City, Kan. He was later employed on three other
   trail drives, and then bought two herds of his own and drove them to
   Kan. He was then employed in [1888?], on Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show
   until 1890, at which time he established a show of his own. He was
   again employed on Buffalo Bill's show in 1912, and was with it when it
   collapsed in Denver, Colo., in 1913. He has since been occupied in the
   show business, which he still follows. He now resides at the [Bluff?]
   Hotel in Ft. Worth, Texas. His story:
   
   "I guess these trappings [?] sport made you think I might have been a
   buckaroo once in my life. My little old goatee, mustache, cowboy
   boots, and 10 gallon Stetson does cause folks to think that, and I've
   been [making?] my living for years off this rig. Of course, I had to
   do a little fancy riding in the arenas over the country, with a little
   trick roping throwed in, but I learnt it all in a [har?] school. Yep.
   learnt it all in a hard school. Had to go for myself when most kids
   were still around their mother's apron strings.
   
     NOTE: C 12 -2/[11?]/41 - Texas
     
   Now I was born Sept. 20, [1854?], on my dad's farm which was located
   high onto 16 Mi. N. of Yankton, Territory of the Dakotas. The reason I
   had to go it on my own so early, was because a tribe 00022of Sioux
   Indians come through and killed my dad and mother, then raided the
   farm taking everything, including me. That was in '61, and the reason
   I know so much about it is because the chief of the tribe, Red Cloud,
   took me to raise. He told me that ordinarily they killed all the boys
   along with the men folks, but he took up with the kid he saw, and
   decided to raise me for a warrior.
   
   "The bucks and squaws took me and taught me everything an Indians was
   supposed to know, including spearing fish, their ways of hunting,
   shooting bows and arrows, riding hosses bare backed, their ways of
   preparing grub, and all. In all, I was with the tribe from '61 'til
   '65, at which time I got away. Now, they treated me as well or better
   than they treated their own papooses but I'd lived a white life long
   enough to know that their way of living and eating wasn't the right
   way. Of course, they thought it was alright, because they'd been
   raised and taught just that way, but I had tasted better life, and
   something in me kept telling me I wasn't Indian and shouldn't be with
   Indians but with my own people. Just to prove that there wasn't a
   thing between us other then that, Red Cloud's grandson, [Two?] Eagles,
   who's in Hollywood now making pictures and is one of the best trick
   riders and ropers in the country, he and I are the best of friends and
   he has even fought for me not so long ago.
   
   As I said, I was in the show business. [Well?], there was a faker on a
   little old carnival that showed in Cleveland, Ohio, here a couple of
   years ago, and he was claiming to be 'Buffalo Cody'. He had banners
   all painted and everything, and was getting away with it 'til Two
   Eagles and me walked on the lot. Two Eagles went right up on the
   [bally?]' and knocked the faker for [sloop?] of the [bally?]', and I
   went to cutting the banners down. The police 00033came and after
   listening to the faker tell them that I'd keep his banners cut down as
   long's he used my name, told him that the case was out of their hands
   and advised him to leave town before they got something on him. Which
   he done the very next day, but [I?] notice he's still at the game.
   
   "The way I was able to leave the tribe was when a number of the best
   warriors were away on a raid in '65. I decided that right then was the
   time to make good, and away I went. Then I got away, I carried powder
   a-plenty and a Colts-Springfield six shooter. I lived off wild game
   and fowl and fish then 'til '69, when I was hired as a cowboy in
   [Ky?].
   
   "Now, you might wonder about me living that away, but the truth of it
   is that there were just hundreds of men that did the same. Although,
   all I ever met were quite a bit older than me. You see, the streams
   then were full of fish, the air with fowls, and the whole country with
   game. So much so that game was thought of as almost a pest. Anybody
   that had a speck of get up in his make up could easy live in the open.
   All he had to do was make just a little money each year to buy his
   powder, and there were lots of places where a man could get lead for
   nothing but just using his head.
   
   "In '89, I was roaming around in [Ky?]. and run out of powder. I went
   up to the Redwicke Ranch, owned by the Redwicke Land and [Cattle?] Co.
   of [Ky?]., and asked for something to do to make a little money. The
   ranch was located in Breashitt Co., which was pretty far from any sort
   of a town, and they were short of hands so they put me on as a cow
   puncher. I learned to brand, cut, and bust wild hosses while there,
   but I never learned how to get wages for my work. I always did think
   after that, that the foreman got my wages 00044for himself. I quit the
   next year and went to roving again, that being a job without much work
   attached to it.
   
   Not so long after I left the Redwickes, I met another rover that I
   liked, and him and me teamed up. A month or so later we met 10 or 12
   other rovers, who were called 'Saddle Bums' because they wouldn't work
   but ate off other people's hospitality. In those days all the farms,
   ranches, and outposts kept open house for anybody that came along, and
   they insisted on feeding you. All except the cafes, and they were so
   cheap that in this day and time a cafe man couldn't stay in the
   business a day if he done what the old heads done in them days.
   
   "These 'Saddle Bums', Texas Bud, who was my pal, and myself lit out
   for Texas. We came into Texas just N. of where Gainsville is now, and
   met a trail herd going N. to Hays City. [Red?] Watson, the trail boss,
   offered any of us a job that wanted to go along, and I was the only
   one out of the bunch that took him up. I think I must have been out of
   powder again to want to mess with cow critters again. Anyway, I hired
   to him for $10.00 a month and my jerked beef. Jerky was dried beef,
   and was plentiful around any beef outfit. It was used as a sort of a
   fill in for chuck. Of course, the chuck wagon with this outfit had
   plenty of other chuck besides jerky, and I was glad to get away from
   doing all my own cooking.
   
   "There were around 2,700 to 2,800 critters in [Red's?] herd, and the
   beef was from three ranches. Most of it was from the old Grimes Ranch
   in West Texas. The clean up and pay off for the Grimes people for they
   stayed out of the cattle business after that. The rest was from the 77
   and the Half Moon outfits from below Waco. Red's men had drove the
   Grimes beef from the [?] Texas ranch, and had 00055met the other herd
   just S. of where I met it. They'd there bunched the two herds
   according to a previous arrangement, and Red had sent the other cow
   punchers on home, taking over himself from there on.
   
   "About all the trail [drives?] had about the same trouble we had on
   that trip. Stampedes, high water, dry and wet weather, low grass, and
   so on. We had high water at both the Red River and the Canadian River.
   He had to wait two weeks at the Canadian before we'd chance forcing
   it, but once you crossed the Canadian, your troubles were almost over
   on account of country. Thereafter, you had to watch for Jayhawkers and
   Indians.
   
   When we got into Hays City, Red found his buyer, bot the money and he
   and me hit back for Texas with the chuck wagon, leaving the rest of
   the trail drivers to [carouse?] their hard earned dough away. But me.
   I was the richest man in the world the day Red paid me my $40.00 for
   four month's work. $40.00, and I'd never had over 50¢ before at one
   time in my life. That's the main reason I stuck to Red like a leech. I
   didn't buy one thing with my riches. Not even a pistol, nor any
   powder.
   
   "Well, really, the drive furnished our powder and lead anyway, so I
   just got what I wanted from the chuck wagon box, and I had a good six
   shooter. I took that from [?] Indians when I left them. It was a
   Colts-Springfield sixer. To lead it, I rolled my powder up in paper
   like you roll a cigarette today, and poked it down a cylinder hole. I
   filled five holes that away, then put my lead in over the powder. Now,
   the reason I only filled five was because I wanted to keep one chamber
   empty, fearing that I might have an accident. Many an old timer done
   that away, and good reason too. 00066"Red and me went on down below
   Waco, Texas, to the '77' spread, and he talked the ram rod into giving
   me [berth?] on the outfit. It was a big one, and it seemed like all
   the waddies on the outfit were as close mouthed as a deaf and dumb
   convention so I never did now all about the outfit. I do know that
   they paid good, though, because they paid me $20.00 a month. And,
   every month. Not just when they made their minds up, but every month.
   That sure made a hit with me, and I still saved. My clothes I made
   from deerskin, just like the Indians [?] learnt me. I wore moccasins
   on my feet, and had a deerskin cap for my head. In fact, I was
   tighter'n a loan shark in them days
   
   "The next Spring, it was the Spring of '72, a big herd of sale beef
   was cut out of the roundup, and readied for the trail. To ready a herd
   for the trail, you road brand all the critters with and extra mark,
   like a six or a seven after or before the other brand. About the safe
   number of men were fingered for the drive as had been with the one I
   worked with the year before, and Red Watson was again made the trail
   boss. Bud cleveland was in charge of the [?], and a [Chinec?] cooky
   was in charge of the chuck wagon.
   
   "We started the herd N., and met the same troubles as we had before,
   just as I said all trail drives met. There wasn't but one difference,
   and that was this time I was going N. at $35.00 a month because I'd
   been over the trail before, and Red Watson was the only other man in
   the outfit that had ever been up the trail.
   
   "This time, we were five months getting into Hays City. As soon's Red
   got the beef handled, he and me again hit S. but most of these waddies
   went back without [tooting?] it up much. The few that stayed, really
   intended to have a good time. We worked 00077our way back to the '77',
   where Red and me left the other men and went over to the Half Moon.
   The [?] been a change in ram rods on the '77', and Jeff Hightower, the
   one that hired me on account of what Red told him, had lost out. He
   wasn't even around anywhere, and Red decided that something wrong had
   happened, so we left. Not that we were afraid of anything. Not that
   a-tall, but we just didn't like the looks of the new ram rod and we
   high tailed it over to the Half Moon where we thought we'd maybe like
   it better. On the way over, Red told me that he'd never liked the '77'
   anyway, because they were so close mouthed.
   
   "When we reached the Half Moon, Red was offered a berth as an ordinary
   cow poke, owing to their having a foreman and a straw boss already,
   but Red decided not to work, but to just hang around for a spell. They
   hired me at $20.00 a month and my chuck, but when I drawed my first
   pay roll, I lit out for farther S.W.
   
   "I rolled along, not very fast but just [ambling?]. About six weeks
   later, I lit on the Briscoe spread just below Uvalde. The Briscoes ran
   around 1,000 head on their 'AB Connected spread,' made like this: AB,
   and around 200 head of wild hosses. They hired me at $30.00 a month
   and chuck to bust in their wild hoss stock. Now, while I could really
   top them off right, I counted the consequences and realized that it
   was really worth a $100,00 a month and chuck because of the danger in
   busting wild hosses. Why, anything can happen to you in that business.
   When I took the job, I told them I'd keep just twice as many hosses
   busted as they needed for work on the ranch, and that was agreed on.
   
   "The catch to that was, that they didn't need but about eight fresh
   hosses a year to work that spread, so I busted 40 to 00088the year on
   the average. I mean by that, that the average I set while working
   there would have produced 40 a year. And, that's many a hoss to bust
   but a feller that had it in him like I had it in me, didn't consider
   that too many. In fact, that was pretty close to just working half
   time. I really didn't work there but four months, busting 14 head and
   training six of them to cut and peg right. I liked that job, the way I
   had it, because I'd liked to work with hosses all my life, and there I
   trained them to work. All the world loves a good hoss, and when I
   turned them hosses over to the Briscoes, they were Good hosses. They'd
   cut with the best anywhere.
   
   "As far's that's concerned, I had a right able piece of hoss flesh
   under me myself when the Briscoes hired me. Caught him while
   meandering through the Territory, and trained him myself. Called him
   Buck after Bud Cleveland's brother for helping me catch him. He was
   the stallion for a wild bunch between the Canadian and the Red, and it
   would about have been impossible for one man to share him for he was
   wily for sure. He was [oagy?] a-plenty for just one hoss.
   
   "And, there's a good illustration of the difference from yesteryear's
   way of busting hosses and today's. The boys now have big strong
   corrals with snubbing posts in the center, and from two to five
   helpers. Buck and me just went after that stallion and chased him up a
   draw. While he could outrun twice as good a hoss the drive had in the
   [cavvy?], he couldn't jump the dead end of that draw, and when he come
   driving past Buck and me, we both lassoed him and kept our ropes tight
   for half an hour, with him right in the middle. He rared, fought, and
   snorted for the longest before 00099he quited down, but when he did,
   he wasn't whipped. Not by a long shot was that boy whipped. He'd been
   caught before and outwitted his catchers so he was just waiting his
   time. I tied my rope to a mesquite tree that happened to be handy,
   even though it was closer to my hoss than I liked it. When I took my
   pistol and carefully aimed it so's I'd stun him. When he fell, Buck
   and me slapped my [hull?] on him, getting it tight just as he come to
   and started raring up. As he come up, I was in the saddle and told
   Buck to 'Let her go!'
   
   "When he 'Let her go,' that hoss took me all over creation with a
   little cloud and dirt throwed in for good measure. I reckon he pitched
   over 500 yards as hard as he could go. When he saw I was still with
   him, he tried to run out from under me. That was right up my alley
   because I knowed when he run down, he'd be my hoss. While running, he
   went through some heavily timbered spots and tried to scrape me off. I
   still stuck, though, and he finally give up the fight. He was a mad
   one, though, when he give up. [Squalled?] like a panther: He gave me
   another break when he run, because he ran right towards the drive with
   me trying to stem him some other way to keep from stampeding the herd,
   but he wouldn't stem. He just run down right near the herd, and I rode
   him on up to the [cavvy?].
   
   He was a good boy as long's he was in the [cavvy?], and the next
   morning when I roped him to lead him off, he didn't scare off so bad
   but when I got him about half a mile away, and Buck helped me to slap
   my hull on him again, he didn't like it, and gave a bigger show than
   he did the first time I rode him. Bucked all over the place 'til the
   blood ran from my nose and both my legs were plum raw from having the
   skin scraped off, trying to hold on. 001010He was my hoss from that
   second ride on, and only one other person ever rode 'til he broke his
   leg in a prairie dog hole in Montana, where I shot him. That other
   person was Buffalo Bill himself, a cousin of mine. If my memory serves
   me right, he died the year of '82. [?] hose well ripened by the years.
   He had part Mustang, Spanish, and Steeldust blood in him. sort of a
   mixture, and I believe he must have took only the best from the other
   breeds.
   
   "Back to the Briscoe spread, now. Well, some way or other, I reckon I
   didn't get introduced right to the job or something. I don't know, but
   I do know I led an awful lonesome life there. Didn't seem like the
   other waddies interested me a-tall. None or them had been up the
   trail, busted a wild one, nor done the things I had, and we didn't mix
   well, so when signs of Spring got around, as it does in that part of
   the country before it does in some other parts, I went back up towards
   the 'Half Moons spread.
   
   "You can well imagine my glad feelings when old Red was still there,
   and had took a job as a cow puncher with the promise that he'd have
   the trail bossing job come the next trail drive. He was there, and
   some way or other, all the fellers that were tops on the trail and had
   worked with Red before, had sort of rounded themselves up there on the
   Half Moon, and the beef roundup was just getting under way when I come
   in. Red said I completed the bunch, and no doubt but that this would
   be the very best drive he'd ever been up with. Not only that, but the
   ram rod over the '77' had shown that he wasn't half as mean as he
   looked, and him and Red were on good terms.
   
   "Now, there were some small ranchers around that part of the country,
   but they didn't run much stuff so they didn't have so 001111many men
   to represent them in the drive. By far and large, the riders comefrom
   either the '77' or the 'Half Moon' spreads. Now, I don't recollect
   just how long this roundup lasted, but they usually laster from one
   month to six weeks, according to how many stampedes and other trouble
   was met with in the rounding up. The sale beef was cut out after
   everything was branded, and around 3,000 head were set aside. The
   reason for so many being because all the men going on the drive had
   already been up and they felt sure the drive would get through fine.
   
   "On account of the stock not being in as good a condition as it should
   have been, Red and the big wigs got together and decided to send the
   stock up the Baxter Springs trail. After the herd got under way, they
   found that the trail had been used a number or times already by other
   herds, which at this time were going up the trail two, three, and four
   a week, and sometimes one every day, Red decided on a daring move. He
   decided to take the Western trail that led by Fort Griffin and on up
   that away.
   
   "Of course, all the meandering around cost a little time but the stock
   made on it as we found grazing that hadn't been touched. Now, If I
   could recall it all, I could give you a wonderful history about this
   cross country trip. bout all I can give you though, that'd be of any
   help, was the crossing at the fort was up so high we couldn't cross,
   and we backed three herds up as they came on in behind us, before the
   water went down enough for us to make it.
   
   "We finally made the-crossing, then on up through the Terr. to near
   Four Cross, Montana, where we grazed the beef one month, then drove
   into Abilene, Kans. All this time, we gambled when we 001212weren't
   working or doing something else, and I'd got the gambling fever in my
   blood. I wanted to win me some money, and I knowed that right then was
   the time to do it because after the trail herds quit [coming?] in 'til
   the next year, [Hays?] City'd go back down to its regular 2,500
   people. During the season of the year when the trail drives hit
   [Hays?] City, there'd be from 12,000 to 1,5000 people in town, a large
   majority being Jayhawkers, con' men, loose twists, and every other
   imaginable thing to get the waddy's money.
   
   "I had a little over $900.00, and I wanted to invest it in some kind
   of a game and run it way up. After lookign around and sweating all the
   games going on, and there was a many a one, I decided on roulette.
   I'll never forget how lucky I got in that old Peacock Saloon and Bar.
   It was a regular palace, with all its mirrors and so on, its women
   that were dressed in velvet what part the dress covered they were, and
   everything else. There was even a 40 foot bar, of wich I've seen them
   longer and bigger bigger since that was a monster for them days. Men
   going around in shabby clothes as I was, and some of them carrying
   fortunes with them. No telling what percentage of this money found its
   way into the crooked hands that were there, but I'll guarantee you
   that a bigger percentage then most people think must have gone there.
   
   "So I decided on roulette. [?] bigger honest to God sucker game than
   roulette never was but I thought I could make on it. I didn't even
   have a combination, nor a set of lucky numbers. I just hopped around
   over the board, here and there, and nearly every time I hopped, I won.
   I sure got a lot of hard looks too, because some of the men in the
   crowd followed my bets, and put their own with mine. That away, when I
   won, they won. After sticking with 001313 them dirty crooks for two
   solid days, leaving only for a few minutes [at?] a time, I walked out
   of that big old Peacock with 5,OOO.OO to the good. I didn't leave,
   though 'til the marshall told me he'd take care of me and I'd better
   leave while I was so far ahead. My luck had attracted most everybody
   in town, and I reckon they done a lot of extra business just on the
   [strength?] of what I was doing, but they didn't [want?] me to get out
   of there with all that dinero.
   
   "Now, Just a marshall didn't mean a thing to that kind of people, but
   [Wild?] Bill Hitchcock did, and he was the marshall, being appointed
   to keep order there by General Sherridan, who ran the military post
   there. He took my money and gave me a reciept for it, to [ling?] me
   that any time I got ready to leave, I could have it. He also let work
   get around that anything that happened to me, happened to his friend
   and he wouldn't like It.
   
   "He sure was one more real man. You know these Jayhawkers'd rustle
   cattle in the Terr. and bring them into town with bills of sale, then
   sell them just like any other beef drive did. The buyers didn't much
   care who they bought their beef from, just so long's they were able to
   handle the order and get their rake off. [Well?], a bunch of
   Jayhawkers came into town and started into [whoopin?] it up after
   getting their money for a herd. They just about shoot up the town
   before wild Bill found out about it, and when he did, he stopped it
   sort of sudden. He just rode into their midst and started shooting
   right and left 'til the rest of them cleared out. [nd?], nobody's ever
   heard of another one of that particular band, which had been pretty
   tough til they ran up against old Wild Bill. He used to bet people
   that he could tos an eagle up into the air and shoot the side they
   called after he'd tossed it. [and?] what's more he could, but there
   was a trick to it.
   
   001414
   
   You see, he'd practiced a slow toss, where the eagle, a 20.00 gold
   piece, would turn over slow. When when the better named the side he
   wanted the eagle slugged on, he'd figure it and hit it every time. You
   know, the other man always has a trick to his trade, and the sooner
   you catch on to it, the sooner you go to saving yourself trouble.
   
   "And then too, since Wild Bill died an old man with a slug in the
   backof his head, that speaks for his speed with a gun, too.
   
   "[When?] I'd got tired of Hays City, I got my boodle and stated back
   South again to Texas, where I'd had so much good luck. I passed the 77
   and Half moon outfits up, and kept going right on down into the Rio
   Grande Valley. What I had in mind, was buying up a herd of my own, and
   driving it up to Hays City. to sell. I started into buying, and all
   the way N. to the Brazos, I paid from $4.00 a head to $7.00 a head. My
   last dollar I spent on Half Moon stock, and put it right into my herd.
   
   I had plenty rations in my chuck outfit, which was carried by some
   half busted burros I'd bought from some [Mexicans?] on the border, and
   plenty shell powder and lead. Everything was on the up and up, and I
   had a few over 25 cow punchers hired that savvied the cow driving
   business. I sure felt good about that drive, and well I might because
   it was to be a success. [We?] drove that herd right into [Hays?] City
   without any extraordinary hitches, and without losing over 30 head
   along the way.
   
   "The spring of [?] found me back in the Rio Grande and buying up more
   stock. This time I reckon I bought up almost 3,000 head before I got
   to the Brazos, where I crossed about 12 or 14 miles east of where Waco
   is now. The same crossing I used before.
   
   001515
   
   We followed pretty much the same trail as Red and me followed the
   first time N. This time, though, I got into a jam. There was a [gang?]
   of [Jayhawkers?] operating in the country I was to pass though, and I
   never learnt it 'til I was right in there. Somewhere about the middle
   of the Terr., and quite a ways [N?]. of the Canadian I'd say, about
   four days past the Canadian was where they struck me.
   
   "It was one dark rainy night, and I had most of the hands out riding
   night herd. The cooky hollered out, 'Coffee Leady,' and most of the
   boys went after it because we needed some thing hot. Well, sir. Them
   blamed Jayhawkers struck right then, causing the whole herd to
   stampede some way or other. How, I never learnt but it cost me one of
   the men. The herd was on him before he knowed it, and when his hoss
   stumbled in its fight to get away, they were both smashed right into
   the mud. It was an awful sight, but was good for me because the boys
   all wanted to take the outfit and get even.
   
   "Since it was so dark, all we could do was to mill the herd. When
   daylight came, we found that they'd kept about 400 head a-going when
   the rest of the herd began to get tired. Must have got them critters
   on just before one of my boys got on point to where he could mill the
   rest. Anyway, the roundup and tally showed there was 400 missing.
   
   "We struck the trail then, leaving only five to work the herd. My
   orders to them was to drive East and get away from the trail We'd been
   following. The boys with me and myself lost the trail when it got into
   the bad lands.
   
   "All this hard luck made me feel pretty bad, but the boys 001616still
   wanted to get even, which was just what I wanted too, only I wanted my
   beef back. We all went back to the herd, found a protected valley and
   settled down. I picked out half a dozen of the crustiest men in the
   bunch, then went back to where we'd lost the trail.
   
   "After a little over three day's prospecting around, we picked up a
   trail leading in from another direction. We followed it, and it led to
   a place sort of like the valley my beef was in. Just one entrance to a
   sort of a valley, and when we got a look into that valley, there was
   at least 500, head of choice beef grazing in there.
   
   "Just because a herd of beef was grazing in there didn't prove that
   rustlers were using the place as a base of operations but we thought
   so because there were seven or eight different brands in the herd we
   could pick out. I thought the situation over, and the boys and me
   decided that we'd wait 'til we saw these fellers driving in some more
   beef before we judged them.
   
   "We stuck around an watched the place but we never did see anybody
   drive in beef. We heard stock on the move through the night several
   times, and the next day the herd would be bigger, with another strange
   brand in it, though. After we had stuck around for 10 days or two
   weeks, we decided the time was hot to get our stock back and get our
   revenge.
   
   "Now, these Jayhawkers raided every herd they thought they could cut
   some out of, and as a rule, when they raided a herd, the trail boss
   knowed what kind of a pocket he was in so he'd just drive on and
   forget the loss. Just charge it up as a loss of beef while going
   through the Terr. Well, what could they do? Every time they decided to
   take it up and get their beef back, by the time 001717they trailed
   their critters down, the Jayhawkers'd have a bill of sale for the
   stuff and enough hard gunmen around 'til it'd be suicide for the
   drivers to fight, This time, though, they had my stuff and when I met
   a prairie fire, I fixed the grass right back and fought fire with
   fire, so I decided to cut out enough stuff out of their herd to make
   up for my loss.
   
   "We had already made two or three trips back to our camp, so when the
   right time came to strike, we struck with all but three of our men in
   the bunch workin. A little rain'd been falling, and the Jayhawkers'd
   rounded the stuff all up into a compact herd, but they waited it
   looked to me like they might have been waiting on another cut from
   some herd going through, or, waiting for some of the men to get in.
   
   "Anyway, my men and men got around on the far side of the valley
   opening, leaving only four men to point the herd in case they started
   in a wrong way, and started firing our pistols. In fact, the first
   four or live shots dropped two or the Jayhawkers, which sort of evened
   that score. The herd started on the stampede, and in three or four
   minutes were running their heads off for they knew not where. They
   were just running. We were flanked by some of the Jayhawkers, but some
   way or other, they were afraid that maybe we were stronger than they
   thought, and they were a little leary of closing with us. Instead,
   they just shot, and mighty nigh every shot they aimed at us hit a beef
   and down it went. Not one of the boys were even as much as nicked by
   the time we left the valley, and we pulled the same trick by them they
   pulled on us. Then the bunch began to get fagged out, we kept around
   1,000 head on the move. We had to prod them plenty to keep them
   moving, 001818but that we were ready and primed to do.
   
   "We kept the herd moving until 'way after daylight. When finally we
   stopped to let them rest, around 400 had strayed and were lost. Of
   course, in the night like we were, it was easy for such a thing as
   that to happen without us seeing it. Some of the stock that we lost
   had been left on purpose because it was winded and couldn't go any
   farther, and we wanted distance. By noon the next day, we had the
   stuff in our little valley, and by noon the next day, we had
   everything branded to suit the occasion and were fixing to make a move
   the next morning.
   
   "Come daylight and we were on the move. [Where?] other drivers tried
   for 10 miles a day, I tried for about eight so's to let the stuff
   graze where and when ever possible for good grazing. We didn't have
   any water trouble, or any other-kind of trouble 'til we struck the out
   skirts of the Hays City corrals. They built corrals 'specially for
   wild cattle, with long wings reaching out into the prairie. Reason for
   that was because if you had a bit of a stampede, and managed to mill
   the herd by one of the wings, you could cut out a few head at a time
   and send them down these wings.
   
   "My trouble was, though, that about 12 two-gunmen rode out to-the herd
   to look it over. The men I had with me were not pansies, by any means,
   and they knowed without me telling them, that these fellers might be
   the Jayhawkers trying to take their beef back. My men closed in around
   these fellers, and all had a rifle across their saddle, and pointing
   right at one of them ornery rascal's middle, or, had his six shooter
   out and wiping it off. The leader of the herd asked for the trail
   boss, and since I was right there, I spoke up. He said, 'I've some
   kinfolks down 001919in Texas and I was just trying to see if this
   stuff here belonged to them.'
   
   "I said, 'You mean that I might have a few boys here who'd toss a wet
   rope?'
   
   "His face got red, then white before he spoke, and then too, he looked
   around at the men a little before he did any anything. Finally though,
   he said, 'No, I thought you fellers here might have handled their
   stiff for them.' then he wheeled his hoss around, nodded at the men he
   brought with him, and they rode off into Hays City. That sure suited
   us fine because trouble was the last thing we were looking for, even
   though the men'd proved they could handle most anything came their
   way.
   
   "I looked up one of the Evans Commission men out of St. Louis, and he
   agreed to take my stuff from me. When I got my money and went to pay
   the men off, I had hafl a dozen extra eagles in their pay sacks. Each
   man got their pay in little old sacks I got in a place there in Hays
   City.
   
   "Then, just to show you what men of their caliber'd do when they liked
   a man, they put me on Buck, tied by feet there, then took me into town
   and paid around $10.00 for me a new outfit of clothes. Why, I looked
   like a clothes hoss when I come out of that men's clothing emporium.
   Now, clothes that stood a man that much money in that day and time'd
   stand a man $500.00 today, I reckon. Anyway, I bid them all goodbye
   and told them I was through with the trail driving for ever. They all
   separated and went thrie ways. I've since seen at least half of them
   in different places, and one, Rowdy Luckett, is a cattle commission
   man in Chicago now. Of course, he's a little older a man than I am
   right now, and his 002020two boys are really taking the leading part,
   but Rowdy built the business himself. I was through there in '36, and
   he told me that his boys handled over a million dollars worth of beef
   just the year before, and that was a tough year. The same as several
   more have been just before and after.
   
   "Now, what I ought to have done when I was so well heeled, was to have
   come back to Texas with that gang of cow punchers and bought me a nice
   little spread some where. Instead, I lived the life of Riley and
   sloughed my money off like it was water. I did win a little now and
   then, but not enough to amount to anything.
   
   "The next thing I done was to join Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show in
   '88. As I said, Buffalo Bill was a cousin of mine. He'd figured it
   hisself in a saloon in Omaha back in the days when I done so much
   roaming around. Him and Doc Carver were together, and they were
   talking about a show right then. And I reckon, that was around '67 or
   '68 when I met him the first time.
   
   "I joined his show as a fancy rider, and stayed with it 'til the last
   of '90, when I lit out for myself. Just about the time when I'd be on
   the up with my show, I'd hit the skids and get back down. That was the
   reason I never did have much of a show. That is, much stuff. I had a
   good show, and everybody like it. It wasn't a bit of trouble for me to
   book a town. The trouble came in the weather and bad breaks such as
   showmen know about.
   
   "The last of my show broke up in '11, and I joined the big show again.
   By this time, it was Buffalo Bill's Wild West and Pawnee Bill's Far
   East Shows. I was with the show when it collapsed in Colorado in '13.
   Since then, I've been with first one, then another show. They use my
   name now but I still ride the tame ones.
   
   002121
   
   I don't mean by that remark about the tame ones that they really use
   me for a sort of an idol or something. I don't mean that a-tall.
   
   "Yousee, I've covered a lot of country in my time, and, I've learnt a
   lot of things. In some of my roaming around, I went with a show to the
   Argentine where I played for several seasons straight. There's another
   thing I learnt too, and that is that the Argentine cow punchers are a
   better bunch then the American. On the average, of course. Those
   Argentine Cow punchers can ride and rope circles around some of the
   american show stuff. Its a wonder to me some body don't bring a few of
   them up to the states because they'd sure put on a show.
   
   "They taught me how to throw the whip while I was there, and I can
   flick ashes off a cigarette, an inch away from a person's lips. I can
   do that and the person'll not feel anything but the wind of the whip.
   They also taught me to throw battle axes, and I can do an impalement
   that's a honey.
   
   "The Indians taught me to handle a knife. The tribe I was with, Red
   Cloud's I mean, happened to be about the best anywhere when it come to
   using the knives. You know, that's the way Chief Yellow Sand lost out.
   He had a bunch of Indians with him (He was the chief that succeeded
   Chief Red Cloud) and met Buffalo Bill when he was a scout, and Buffalo
   Bill had a bunch of soldiers with him. To keep from having a lot of
   blood shed, they decided to fight it out with knives, and Buffalo Bill
   won. Of course, he must have won because it was a fight to the death,
   and that was when Buffalo Bill was a young man.
   
   "Couple all that with my knowledge of snakes, other wild animals and
   my riding and I'm not deadwood to any show, am I?
   
   002222
   
   Now, there's scads of details on them drives I mentioned that [?] me a
   week or so and I could think them up, but right now, [I?] can't for
   the life of me give them to you. There's a lot of other water [?] went
   under the bridge you'd be interested in but right now I can't even
   think of them. I've seen a number of killings. Some of them clod
   blooded, and just for the amusement of seeing some poor feller kick,
   but I can't bring them to mind. Its sort of like the feller said, 'I'm
   getting a helluva poor memory but a swell forgetter.'
   
   "There's just one other thing right now, and that's why I'm called
   'Buffalo Cody.' [My?] name's [Harry?] Buffington Cody, and my friends
   called be buffalo from the [middle?] name and because I'm a cousin to
   the real Buffalo Bill. I never shot a buffalo in my life, but I've
   been in parties that shot one for food. The buffalo's meat never was
   any great shakes, and I'd take a T bone in its place any time, but
   when you're hungry, a big old buffalo steak goes right well. When I
   was still real young and running around, there was so much buffalo
   around that they were a menace and a pest. What done away with them
   was when the Government decided the only way to keep the Indian on his
   home range was to kill off the buffalo.
   
   "Now, there's another point to be considered. The Indian was a great
   game conservationist, or what ever you call them. They believed
   there'd be another day when they'd want to eat, and, they just didn't
   go out killing off every thing that moved just for the fun of seeing
   it drop and kick. You look that up and see if I'm not right on that.
   They were the very first, and way ahead of the men in the business
   today when it came to saving wild game.
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