WILD BILL. 145 



Have laughed when Fulton boarded his wheezing ex- 

 periment to paddle up the Hudson ! And if our 

 doctor's Darwinian-Pythagorean theory were correct, 

 Fulton's spirit might have brought the crude idea 

 from some ancient stoker. 



But while we were thus speculating and giving free 

 reins to Fancy's most erratic moods, the chaplain 

 arrived from the fort, and mounting the freight plat- 

 form, read the Episcopal morning service. A crowd 

 gathered around, and a voice from the past whisper- 

 ing in their ears, a few bowed their heads during 

 prayer. A drunkard went brawling by, with a side- 

 long glance and the leering look of eyes whose watery 

 lids seemed making vain efforts to quench the fiery 

 balls. How it grated on one's feelings ! In a land 

 so eloquent with voices of the mighty past, it seemed 

 as if even instinct would cause the knee to bow in 

 homage before its Maker. 



Monday was our day of final preparation, and we 

 commenced it by making the acquaintance of those 

 two celebrated characters, Wild Bill and Buffalo Bill, 

 or, more correctly, William Hickock and William 

 Cody. The former was acting as sheriff of the town, 

 and the latter we engaged as our guide to the Saline. 



Wild Bill made his entree into one court of the 

 temple of fame some years since through Harper's 

 Magazine. Since then his name has become a house- 

 hold word to residents along the Kansas frontier. 

 We found him very quiet and gentlemanly, and not 

 at all the reckless fellow we had supposed. His form 

 won our admiration — the shoulders of a Hercules 

 with the waist of a girl. Much has been written 



