One day when he had ridden into Leavenworth Buffalo Billy met his old friend, Wild Bill, who was fitting out a train with supplies for the Overland Stage Company, and he was at once persuaded to join him in the trip West going as assistant wagon-master.
Putting a man on his mother's farm to take care of it, for as a farmer Billy was not a success, he bade his mother and sisters farewell and once more was on his way toward the land of the setting sun.
Having been at home for several months, for his mother not being in the enjoyment of good health he hated to leave her, Billy had been attending school, and had been a hard student, while in the eyes of his fellow pupils, girls and boys alike, he was a hero of heroes.
On his trip West with Wild Bill he had carried his books, and often in camp he had whiled away the time in studying, until he was asked if he was reading for a lawyer or a preacher.
But when well away from civilization his books were cast aside for his rifle, and he was constantly in the saddle supplying the train with game.
Without any particular adventures the train arrived in due season at Atchison, and there so much was said about Pony Riding on the Overland that Buffalo Billy decided to volunteer as a rider.
Resigning his position with the train, Mr. Russell gave him a warm letter to Alf Slade, a noted personage on the frontier, and to him Billy went.
Slade was then stage agent for the Julesberg and Rocky Ridge Division, with his head-quarters at Horseshoe, nearly forty miles west of Fort Laramie, and there Billy found him and presented his letter.
Slade read the letter, looked Billy carefully over, and said:
"I would like to oblige you, my boy, but you are too young, the work kills strong men in a short time."
"Give me a trial, sir, please, for I think I can pull through," said Billy.
"But are you used to hard riding and a life of danger?"
"Yes, sir, I've seen hard work, young as I am."
"I see now that Russell says you are Buffalo Billy," and Slade glanced again at the letter.
"Yes, sir, that's what my pards call me."
"I have heard of you, and you can become a pony rider; if you break down you can give it up."
The very next day Billy was set to work on the trail from Red Buttes on the North Platte, to Three Crossings on the Sweet Water, a distance of seventy-six miles.
It was a very long piece of road, but Billy did not weaken, and ere long became known as the Boss Pony Rider.
One day he arrived at the end of his road to find that the rider who should have gone out on the trip with his mail, had been killed in a fight, so he at once volunteered for the run to Rocky Ridge, a distance of eighty-five miles, and arrived at the station even ahead of time.
Without rest he turned back and reached Red Buttes on time, making the extraordinary run of three hundred and twenty-two miles without rest, and at an average speed of fifteen miles an hour.
This remarkable feat won for him a presentation of a purse of gold from the company, and a fame for pluck and endurance that placed him as the chief of the Pony Riders.
One day, after Buffalo Billy had been a few months Pony Riding, a party of Indians ambushed him near Horse Creek.
He however, as did his horse, miraculously escaped their foes, dashed through them and went on like the wind.
But the red-skins gave hot chase, firing as they ran, yet still without effect.
Billy was well mounted and had not felt fear of them until he saw two of the Indians rapidly drawing ahead of the other, and gaining upon him.
He urged his horse on at full speed with lash and spur, but still the red-skins gained.
Then he saw that they too were splendidly mounted, not on ponies, but large American horses which they had doubtlessly captured from the cavalry.
Nearer and nearer came the Indians, and on Billy pressed at full speed.
Throwing a glance over his shoulder he saw that one of the red-skins, whose feathers proved him to be a chief, was gaining on his comrade, and yet seemed not to be urging the large roan he rode.
"I want that horse, and I want that Injun," muttered Billy, and he quietly took his revolver from his belt.
Nearer and nearer came the chief, and Billy felt his own horse wavering, and knew he was forced beyond his powers of endurance, and fearing he might fall with him, determined to act at once.
Dragging the animal he rode to a sudden halt, and reining him back upon his haunches, he suddenly wheeled in his saddle and fired.
The Indian saw his sudden and unexpected movement, and was taken so wholly off his guard that he had no time to fire, and ere he could raise his pistol, a bullet went crashing through his brain.
He fell back on his horse, that dashed straight on, and was then thrown to the ground, while the rein of the animal was seized by Billy with a force that checked his mad flight.
It was an easy thing for the Pony Rider to spring upon the back of the roan and get away; but he would not give up his own saddle and the mail bags which were attached to it, and, dismounting, he was hastily making the transfer from his own to the red skin's horse when up dashed the second Indian, and firing as he came, sent a bullet through the cap of the youth, knocking it from his head.
The two horses he held began to both pull back in alarm, and for an instant things looked very dismal for the brave Pony Rider; but a second shot from the warrior missed the boy and killed his horse, and this relieved him of that trouble, and instantly he drew his revolver and fired.
Down from his horse fell the red skin, but only wounded, and as he still clutched his pistol, Billy was forced to give him another shot, which quieted him forever, just as the band of Indians came in sight.
But the presence of mind for which he was noted did not desert the Pony Rider, and he quickly cut loose his saddle from his dead horse, sprung with it in his hand upon the back of the roan and dashed away once more just as the shots of his foes began to patter around him.
The Indians, however, kept the chase up, and Billy dashed up to the station to find that the stock-tender lay dead and scalped in front of his cabin and the stock had been driven off.
But without an instant's delay the Pony Rider urged the splendid roan he had captured on once more and arrived in safety at Plontz Station ahead of time, and made known what had happened back on the overland trail, and added new laurels to his name.
After six months longer of Pony Riding over the dangerous trail of seventy-six miles, ridden by day and night in all kinds of weather, Buffalo Billy met with an adventure that was the cause of his again finding another occupation.
The Indians had become very troublesome as fall came on and a number of pony riders had been killed and stations burned along the route until there were few who cared to take the risks.
The stage coaches also were often attacked, and on one occasion the driver and two passengers were killed and several others were wounded.
But Billy did not flinch from his long, lonely and desperate rides, and seemed to even take pleasure in taking the fearful chances against death which he was forced to do on every ride out and in.
One day as he sped along like the wind he saw ahead of him the stage coach going at full speed and no one on the box.
At once he knew there was trouble, and as he drew nearer he discovered some Indians dash out of a ravine and give chase.
As he heard the clatter of hoofs behind him he looked around and saw a dozen red-skins coming in pursuit, and felt confident that he must have dashed by an ambush they were preparing for him, by suddenly changing his course and riding around instead of through a canyon.
The stage coach was now in the open prairie, and dashing along the trail as fast as the horses could go, while the Indians in close pursuit numbered but three.
Billy was well mounted upon a sorrel mare, and urging her with the spur he soon came in range of the red-skin furthest in the rear and hastily fired.
Down went the pony, and the Indian was thrown with such violence that he was evidently stunned, as he lay where he had fallen.
Another shot wounded one of the remaining Indians, and they hastily sped away to the right oblique in flight, while Billy dashed on to the side of the coach.
There were five passengers within, and two of them were women, and all were terribly frightened, though evidently not knowing that their driver lay dead upon the box, the reins still grasped in his nerveless hands.
Riding near, Billy seized his mail bags and dextrously got from his saddle to the stage, and the next instant he held the reins in his firm gripe.
He knew well that Ted Remus, the driver, had carried out a box of gold, and was determined to save it for the company if in his power.
His horse, relieved of his weight and trained to run the trail, kept right on ahead, and he, skillfully handling the reins, for he was a fine driver, drove on at the topmost speed of the six animals drawing the coach.
Behind him came the Indians, steadily gaining; but Billy plied the silk in a style that made his team fairly fly, and they soon reached the hills.
Here the red-skins again gained, for the road was not good and in many places very dangerous.
But once over the ridge, and just as the Indians were near enough to fill the back of the coach with arrows, Billy made his team jump ahead once more, and at breakneck speed they rushed down the steep road, the vehicle swaying wildly, and the passengers within not knowing whether they would be dashed to pieces, or scalped by the Indians, or which death would be the most to be desired.
But Billy, in spite of his lightning driving, managed his team well, and after a fierce run of half an hour rolled up to the door of the station in a style that made the agent and the lookers on stare.
But he saved the box and the lives of the passengers, and several days after was transferred from the Pony Rider line to stage driving on the Overland, a position he seemed to like.
While riding Pony Express the road on Buffalo Billy's run became infested with road-agents, who were wont to halt every rider they could catch, and also rob the stages.
The chief of these outlaws was noted as a man of gallantry, for he never robbed a woman, no matter what the value of her personal effects might be.
Ladies with valuable diamonds in their ears, and rings that were worth a small fortune, were always spared by this man, who became known by his forbearance to the fair sex as the "Cavalier."
Poor men were also exempt from being robbed by the Cavalier; that is if he really thought a man was poor and not "playing possum," to get off from paying the toll demanded.
In halting a stage the driver was never robbed, but Government and the Company's moneys were always taken, and well-to-do travelers had to pay liberally.
Pony Express Riders were never robbed of their pocket money, but the mail was invariably searched for money.
Once only had Buffalo Billy been halted by the Cavalier, though the other riders had frequently been brought to a halt and made to pony up.
That once Billy had shown fight, had tried to run by, and his horse had been shot; but he slightly wounded the Cavalier in the arm, and for it he was told if he ever attempted resistance again he would be promptly killed.
This did not trouble the young Rider in the least, but he made up his mind that he would not be caught; and after that the road-agents found it impossible to bring him to a halt, and his mails always went through in perfect safety.
At last it became rumored that Buffalo Billy had been removed to another part of the road, and that as no riders could be found to take his long night rides, a daughter of one of the stock-tenders had volunteered for it, and the company, knowing her ability as a rider, accepted her services until another could be found.
The first night on the run she arrived at the other end on time, though she reported that she had been halted by the Cavalier and four of his men.
The road-agent seemed greatly surprised that a woman, in fact a young and very pretty girl, should be riding the road, but she made known the circumstances, and he told her she should always go through unmolested by him and his men.
But he made the mails, carried by the other riders, and the stage-coach passengers, suffer for his leniency to the Girl Rider, and the Government and both the express and stage companies offered a large reward for the capture of himself and men alive.
This seemed to do no good, although a number of attempts were made to capture him, which signally failed, and the reward was increased and added "dead or alive."
All this time the Girl Rider often met the Cavalier in her rides, and when the moonlight nights came on, he would often, as she was flying along, dash out from some thicket, and ride with her ten or fifteen miles.
The more he saw of her the more he seemed to admire her, and his times of joining her increased, and he seemed to so enjoy his rides with her, that he would, when she went into a station to change horses, make a circuit around it, and joining her beyond, continue on for another dozen miles, for he rode a fleet steed, and one of great bottom.
One night as they thus sped along he told the Girl Pony Rider that he had learned to love her, tho' he had never seen her face in the daylight, and that he had accumulated a large sum, for he had a treasure hiding-place in the mountains, and, if she only would love him in return and fly with him, he would be the happiest of men, and give up his evil life.
The maiden promised to think of it, said it was so sudden and unexpected, that she had never loved before, and did not even then know her own heart, and with this she dashed on her way like the wind.
The next night the Cavalier again met her, and again renewed his vows of love, and she told him she had thought of it, and would stand by him until death parted them.
The Cavalier went into ecstasies over this, and an evening was appointed when they should leave the country together, which was a night on which the Girl Rider knew she was to carry quite a sum of money in huge bills to the paymaster of the company at the other end of the line.
The night in question came round, and the cavalier road-agent, as he had promised, had relays of fresh horses every twenty miles until they should have gone two hundred, which would put them beyond pursuit; in fact the company would not discover for twenty-four hours just what had happened, the outlaw and maiden both believed, so considered themselves safe.
At the hour he had agreed to meet the maiden, the Cavalier was on hand at the timber, mounted on his finest horse, dressed in his best, and carrying a couple of large saddle-bags loaded with treasure, consisting of his lion's share of the robberies, and which included watches, jewelry, gold, silver and paper money.
The maiden asked him to dismount and arrange her saddle-girths, and as he was stooping, she threw down the rein of his horse which she was holding, and to which she had attached something, and away he started in a run, for the violent motion had frightened him; but he soon came to a halt.
Rising to his feet the Cavalier suddenly felt the cold muzzle of a revolver pressed against his head, and heard the words:
"You are my prisoner; resist and I will kill you; up with your arms!"
He tried to laugh it off as a joke, but she was in deadly earnest, and he soon found it out.
Leaning over she took the weapons of the road-agent from his belt, and told him to move on ahead.
He could but obey, for he knew she would kill him if he did not.
A mile up the trail and the stock-tender's station came in sight, and in the moonlight they both saw a crowd of men awaiting them there.
Once more the Cavalier begged for his release; but she was determined, and marched him straight up to the crowd.
"Well, Billy, you've got him," cried a voice as they approached.
"I most certainly have, and if you'll look after him I'll go and fetch his horse, for I've got a hook fastened to his rein and he can't go far."
"Billy!" cried the road-agent.
"Yes, I am Buffalo Billy, and I assumed this disguise to catch you and I've done it.
"Do you love me now, pard?"
The road-agent foamed and swore; but it was no use; he had been caught, was taken to the town, tried, found guilty of murdering and robbing and ended his life on the gallows, and Buffalo Billy got the reward for his capture, and a medal from the company, and he certainly deserved all that he received for his daring exploit in the guise of a young girl, and a pretty one too, the boys said he made, for he had no mustache then, his complexion was perfect, though bronzed, and his waist was as small as a woman's, while in the saddle his height did not show.
As to the Cavalier, Billy said he deserved his name, and certainly talked love like an adept at the art, and his lovemaking, like many another man's, led him to ruin and death.
Shortly after this adventure of the rescue of the stage coach, the Indians became so bad along the line that the Pony Express and stages had to be stopped for awhile on account of the large number of horses run off.
This caused a number of the employees of the Overland to be idle, and they at once formed a company to go in search of the missing stock, and also to punish the red-skins.
Of this company Wild Bill, who had been driving stage, was elected the commander, and, as they were all a brave set of men, it was expected they would render a good account of themselves.
Of course Buffalo Billy went along, by years the youngest of the party, but second to none for courage and skill in prairie craft.
They first struck the Indians in force on the Overland trail, and defeating them with heavy loss, pursued them to the Powder River, and then down that stream to the vicinity of where old Fort Reno now stands.
Pushing them hard the whites had several engagements with them, and each one of the company performed some deed of valor, but none were more conspicuous for daring deeds than was Buffalo Billy.
Permitting them no rest the whites drove the Indians into their village, and although they were outnumbered four to one, captured all of the company's stock as well as the ponies of the red-skins.
Having been so successful Wild Bill gave the order to return, and the Indians had been too badly worsted to follow, and they reached Sweetwater Bridge in safety, and without the loss of an animal they had retaken or captured.
The stages and Pony Express at once began to run again on time, and Buffalo Billy was transferred to another part of the line, to drive through a mountainous district.
But anxious to return home, after his long absence, he resigned his position, determined to take advantage of a train going east, and in which he could get a position as assistant baggage-master on the homeward-bound trip, which would pay him for a couple of months' service, thereby giving him a larger sum to carry to his family.
As it would be several days before the train started, Buffalo Billy determined to enjoy a bear-hunt, and mounting his favorite horse, the roan he had captured from the Indian chief, he set out for the foot-hills of Laramie Peak.
After a day of pleasure, in which he had shot considerable game, such as deer, antelope and sage hens, but not a bear, he camped for the night in a pretty nook upon one of the mountain streams.
Hardly had he fastened his roan and begun to build a fire, by which to cook his supper, when he was startled by the neigh of a horse up in the mountains.
Instantly he sprung to his horse, and, by his hand over his nostrils, prevented him from giving an answering whinny, while he stood in silence listening, for he knew that he might rather expect to see a foe there than a friend.
As the neigh was once more repeated, Buffalo Billy resaddled his horse, hitched him so that he could be easily unfastened, and, with his rifle started cautiously on foot up the stream.
He had not gone far when in a little glen he beheld nearly half a hundred horses grazing and lariated out.
This was a surprise to him, and he was most cautious indeed, for he was convinced that they belonged to some prowling band of Indians.
Presently, up the mountain further, he caught sight of a sudden light, and his keen eye detected that a man's form had momentarily appeared and then all was darkness once more.
On he went in the direction of the light, going as noiselessly as a panther creeping upon its prey, until presently he dimly discovered the outline of a small cabin, built back against the precipitous side of an overhanging hill.
Hearing voices, and recognizing that they were white men, he stepped boldly forward and knocked at the door.
Instantly there followed a dead silence within, and again he knocked.
"Who is there?" asked a gruff voice.
"A pard."
"Come in, pard."
Billy obeyed.
But instantly he regretted it, for his eyes fell upon a dozen villainous-looking fellows, several of whom he recognized as having seen loafing at the Overland stations, and who were considered all that was bad.
"Who are you?" asked one who appeared to be the leader.
"I am Bill Cody, a stage driver on the Overland, and I came up here on a bear-hunt."
"You're a healthy looking stage driver, you are, when you are nothing more than a boy."
"Yes, Bob, he tells ther truth, fer I hes seen him handle ther ribbons, and he does it prime too; he are the Pony Rider who they calls Buff'ler Billy," said another of the gang.
"Ther devil yer say: waal, I has heerd o' him as a greased terror, an' he looks it; but who's with yer, young pard?"
"I am alone."
"It hain't likely."
"But I am."
"Yer must be durned fond o' b'ar-meat ter come up here alone."
"I am."
"Waal, did yer get yer b'ar?"
"No."
"Whar's yer critter?"
"My horse is down the mountain."
"I'll go arter him," said one suspiciously; but Billy answered quickly:
"Oh, no, I'll not trouble you; but if I can leave my rifle here, I'll go after him."
"All right, pard; but I guesses two of us better go with yer fer comp'ny, as we loves ter be sociable."
Buffalo Billy well knew now that he was in a nest of horse-thieves and desperadoes; but he dared not show his suspicions, as he felt assured they would kill him without the slightest compunction.
So he said pleasantly:
"Well, come along, for it is pleasanter to have company, and I'll stay with you to-night if you'll let me."
"Oh, yes, we'll let yer stay, fer we is awful social in our notions. Here Ben, you and Tabor go with my young pard and bring his horse up to the corral."
The two assigned for this duty were the very worst looking of the band, as far as villainous faces went; but Buffalo Billy's quick brain had already formed a plan of escape, and he was determined to carry it out.
Down the hill they went until they came to the horse, and both eyed his fine points, as dimly seen in the darkness, with considerable pleasure, while one muttered:
"The Cap will be sure to fancy him."
"There is a string of game that might come in well for supper," said Billy, as he pointed to a dark object on the ground.
"They will, fer sure," was the eager answer, and the man stooped to pick up the game when Billy suddenly dealt him a blow that felled him to the earth.
At the same time he wheeled upon the other, who already had his hand upon his revolver, and before he could fire, his own finger touched the trigger, and the desperado fell.
Bounding into his saddle he turned his horse down the mountain side, just as the door of the cabin was thrown open and he saw the band streaming out from their den, alarmed by the shot.
In hot pursuit they rushed down the mountain side, and for a short while gained upon Billy, for he dared not urge his horse rapidly down the steep hillside.
But once in the valley and the roan bounded forward at a swift pace, and not a moment too soon, for the revolver shots began to rattle, and the bullets to fly uncomfortably near.
On, at a swift gait the roan went, and though Billy heard the clatter of hoofs in chase, he had no fear, as he well knew the speed of the animal he rode.
After a few miles' pursuit the desperadoes gave up the chase and returned toward the mountains, while Buffalo Billy urged the roan on, and a couple of hours before dawn he reached the station, roused the men, and in fifteen minutes two score horsemen were on the way to the mountains, led by the boy, though Alf Slade himself went in command of the company.
But though they found the dug-out, and the grave of the man Billy had killed, the birds had flown, leaving one of their number in his last resting place to mark the visit of the youth to the desperadoes' den.
Back to his home in Kansas went Buffalo Billy, to cheer the heart of his mother and sisters by his presence, and win their admiration by his rapid growth into a handsome manly youth.
To please those who so dearly loved him he again attended school for a couple of months; but with the first wagon-train bound west he went as hunter, and arriving in the vicinity of the Overland again sought service as a stage-driver, and was gladly accepted and welcomed back.
He had been driving but a short time after his return, when he carried east on one trip a coach load of English tourists, whose baggage loaded down the stage.
Although he was driving at the average regulation speed, to make time at each station, the Englishmen were growling all the time at the slow pace they were going and urging Billy to push ahead.
Billy said nothing, other than that he was driving according to orders, and which was, by the way, by no means a slow gait, and then listened to their growling in silence, while they were anathematizing everything in America, as is often the case with foreigners who come to this country.
Billy heard their remarks about the "bloody 'eathen in Hamerica," "the greatness of hall things hin Hingland," "slow horses," "bad drivers," and all such talk, and drove calmly on into Horsehoe.
There the horses were changed, and the six hitched to the coach were wild Pony Express animals that had been only partially broken in as a stage team, which Billy delighted in driving.
As they were being hitched up Buffalo Billy smiled grimly, and said:
"I'll show those gents that we know how to drive in this country," and those who knew him could see the twinkle of deviltry in his eyes.
At last, the Englishmen, having dined, took their seats, Billy gave the order to let the animals go, and they started off at a rapid pace.
But Billy reined them down until they reached the top of the hill, and then, with a wild yell, that suddenly silenced the grumbling of the Englishmen, he let the six horses bound forward, while with utter recklessness he threw the reins upon their backs.
Frightened, maddened by the lash he laid upon them, they went down the mountain at a terrific speed, the coach swaying wildly to and fro, and the Englishmen nearly frightened out of their wits.
Glancing out of the windows and up at Billy they called to him to stop for the sake of Heaven.
But he only laughed, and tearing the large lamps from the coach threw them at the leaders, the blows, and the jingling of glass frightening them fearfully.
"For God's sake stop, driver!"
"He is mad!"
"We'll all be killed!"
"Stop! stop!"
Such was the chorus of cries that came from the coach, and in reply was heard the calm response:
"Don't get excited, gents; but sit still and see how we stage it in the Rocky Mountains."
Then, to add still greater terror to the flying team and the frightened passengers, Billy drew his revolver from his belt and began to fire it in the air.
As the station came in sight, the man on duty saw the mad speed of the horses and threw open the stable doors, and in they dashed dragging the stage after them, and tearing off the top, but not hurting Billy, who had crouched down low in the boot.
The passengers were not so lucky, however, for the sudden shook of halt sent them forward, in a heap and the arm of one of them was broken, while the others were more or less bruised.
A canvas top was tacked on, the coach was run out, and a fresh team hitched up, and Billy sung out:
"All aboard, gents!"
But he went on with an empty coach, for the Englishmen preferred to wait over for another driver, and one of them was heard to remark that he would rather go in a hearse than in a stage with such a madman holding the reins.
But far and wide Billy's mad ride was laughed at, and he received no reprimand from the company, though he richly deserved it.
Driving over the trail through the Rocky Mountains, the drivers were constantly annoyed by road-agents, whose daring robberies made it most dangerous for a coach to pass over the line.
If the driver did not obey their stern command: "Halt! up with your hands!" he was certain to be killed, and the passenger within who offered the slightest resistance to being robbed, was sure to have his life end just there.
So dangerous had it become to drive the mountain passes, as several drivers had been shot, the company found it difficult to get men to carry the stages through, and offered double wages to any one who had the courage to drive over the road-agents dominions.
Buffalo Billy at once volunteered for the perilous work, and his first trip through he met with no resistance.
The next he was halted, and promptly obeying the order to throw up his hands, he was not molested, though the gold-box was taken from the coach, and all the passengers were robbed.
After this it was almost a daily occurrence for the road-agents to rob a stage-coach, and the Overland Company offered a reward of five thousand dollars for the capture of their chief and the band.
One day Billy drove away from the station with a coach full of women, not a single man having the pluck to go, and promptly, at their favorite place, the road-agents appeared.
"Halt! up with your hands!"
With military promptitude Buffalo Billy obeyed, and putting on the California brakes, he drew his horses to a stand-still.
"Well, what have you got to-day that's worthy our picking, my Boy Driver?" said the road-agent leader approaching the coach.
"Only women, and I beg you not to be brute enough to scare 'em," said Billy.
"Oh! they must pay toll; and they generally have good watches; but what is it, a woman's rights meeting, or a Seminary broke loose?'
"Ask 'em," was the quiet reply, and as the leader of the road-agents, closely followed by his half-dozen men, all in masks, rode up to the stage door, Billy suddenly drew his revolver and with the flash the chief fell dead.
"Out, boys!" yelled Billy, and the stage doors flew open, dresses and bonnets were cast aside, and nine splendid fellows began a rapid fire upon the amazed road-agents.
One or two managed to escape; but that was all, for after four of their number had fallen, the balance were glad enough to cry for quarter, which was shown them only until a rope could be thrown over the limb of a tree and they drawn up to expiate their crimes by hanging.
It was Billy's little plot, and he got the larger part of the reward, and the credit of ridding the country of a daring band of desperate men.
Shortly after this bold act, hearing of the continued failing health of his mother, Buffalo Billy, like the dutiful son he was, once more resigned his position as stage-driver, and returned to Kansas, arriving there a few months after the breaking out of the civil war in 1861.
After a very short stay at home Buffalo Billy began to show signs of uneasiness, for he was too near Leavenworth, then an important military post, not to get the soldier's fever for battles and marches.
He soon discovered that a company of cavalry was being raised to do service in Missouri, and he at once enlisted and went as a guard to a Government train bound to Springfield, Missouri, and after that he was made a dispatch runner to the different forts, and met with many thrilling adventures while in that capacity.
From this duty Buffalo Billy was sent as guide and scout to the Ninth Kansas Regiment which was ordered into the Kiowa and Comanche country, and it did good service there, and the young soldier added new laurels to his name.
The second year of the war Billy became one of the famous "Red Legged Scouts," formed of the most noted rangers of Kansas.
While a member of this daring band he was sent to guide a train to Denver, but upon arriving there, learning of the severe illness of his mother, he at once set off for home, going the entire distance alone and making wonderful time through a country infested with dangers.
To his joy, he found his mother still living, yet failing rapidly, and soon after his arrival she breathed her last and Buffalo Billy had lost his best, truest friend, and the sad event cast a gloom over the life of the young soldier.
As one of his sisters had married some time before, her husband took charge of the farm, while Billy returned to the army and was sent into Mississippi and Tennessee with his command.
But Billy did not relish military duty, for he had become too well accustomed to the free life of the plains, and, resigning his position as scout, started upon his return to the prairies.
But while on the way he came in sight of a pleasant farm-house, from which came a cry of help in the voice of a woman.
Billy saw five horses hitched to a fence on the other side of the house; but this array of numbers did not deter him when a woman called for aid, and dismounting quickly he bounded upon the piazza, and was just running into the door when a man came out into the hall and fired at him, but fortunately missed him.
Bill instantly returned the fire, and his quick, unerring aim sent a bullet into the man's brain.
At the shots a wilder cry came from within for help and two men dashed out into the hall, and, seeing Billy, three pistols flashed together.
But Billy was unhurt, and one of his foes fell dead, while springing upon the other he gave him a stunning blow with his revolver that put him out of the fight, and then bounded into the room to discover an elderly lady and a lovely young girl threatened by two huge ruffians, who were holding their pistols to their heads to try and force from them the hiding-place of their money and valuables.
Seeing Billy, they both turned upon him, and a fierce fight ensued, which quickly ended in the killing of both ruffians by the brave young soldier, who seemed to bear a charmed life, for he was unhurt, though he had slain four men in a desperate combat and wounded a fifth.
Just then into the room dashed three men, and their weapons were leveled at Buffalo Billy, and right then and there his days would have ended had it not been for the courage and presence of mind of the lovely young girl, who threw herself forward upon his breast, to the youth's great surprise, and cried out:
"Father! Brothers! don't fire, for this man is our friend."
The old man and his sons quickly lowered their rifles, while the former said:
"A friend in blue uniform, while we wear the gray?'
"I am a Union soldier, sir, I admit, and I was going by your home, heard a cry for help, and found your wife and daughter, as I suppose them to be, at the mercy of five ruffians, and I was fortunate enough to serve them.
"But I will not be made prisoner, gentlemen."
Billy's hands were on his revolvers and he looked squarely in the faces of those in his front, and they could see that he was a man who meant what he said.
"My dear sir, I am a Confederate, I admit, and this is my home; but I am not the one to do a mean action toward a Union soldier, and especially one who has just served me so well in killing these men, whom I recognize as jay-hawkers, who prey on either side, and own no allegiance to North or South.
"Here is my hand, sir, and I will protect you while in our lines."
Billy grasped the hand of the farmer, and then those of his sons, and all thanked him warmly for the service he had done them.
But Billy was surprised to find he was within the Confederate lines, and found by inquiring that he had taken the wrong road a few miles back.
The farmer was the captain of a neighborhood military company, and it was his custom to come home with his sons whenever he had opportunity, and arriving just as the fight ended he saw a man in gray uniform lying dead in the hall, and beholding Billy in the blue, had an idea that the Northern soldiers were on a raid, had been met by some of his men, and he certainly would have killed the young scout but for the timely act of his lovely daughter, Louise.
And it was this very circumstance, the meeting with Louise Frederici, the Missouri farmer's daughter, that caused Buffalo Billy to decide to remain in the army, and not to return to the plains, for when stationed in or near St. Louis, he could often see the pretty dark-eyed girl who had stolen his heart away.
Before the war ended Buffalo Billy returned to Kansas, but he carried with him the heart of Louise Frederici, and the promise that she would one day be his wife.
After a short visit to his sisters he again became a stage-driver, and it was by making a desperate drive down a mountain side to escape a band of road-agents that he won the well-deserved title of the Prince of the Reins.
All the time that Buffalo Bill was driving stage his thoughts were turning to dark-eyed pretty Louise Frederici in her pleasant Missouri home, and at last he became so love-sick that he determined to pay her a visit and ask her to marry him at once.
He was no longer a boy in size, but a tall, elegantly-formed man, though his years had not yet reached twenty-one.
He had saved up some money, and off to Missouri he started, and his strangely-handsome face, superb form and comely manners were admired wherever he went, and people wondered who he was, little dreaming they were gazing upon a man who had been a hero since his eighth year.
He soon won Louise over to his way of thinking, by promising he would settle down, and they were married at farmer Frederici's home and started on their way, by a Missouri steamer, to Kansas.
Arriving at Leavenworth, Buffalo Bill and his bride received a royal welcome from his old friends, and they were escorted to their new home, where for awhile the young husband did "settle down."
But at last, finding he could make more money on the plains, and that being to his liking, he left his wife with his sisters and once more started for the far West, this time as a Government scout at Fort Ellsworth.