The watchman and southron. [volume] (Sumter, S.C.) 1881-1930, 1901-06-12
Wild BILLS FIRST BATTLE.
Story of the Most Remarkable
Conflict in Border Annals.

Forty years ago, in December. ten
men on bay horses galloped across the
dry bed Of Rock Creek, skirted lit
tie clump of cottonwoods, and drew
rein before the bars Of the Overland
Stage Company's horse corral on the
California trail few miles north of
Manhattan. Bill McKandlas, jump
ing from his horse, put his hand on
the top bar A tall, slender young
man stepped to the door of the dug
out few yards away with gun IN
his hand, and eyed the McKandlas
gang with dark disfavor. He called
out with some emphasis that he
| would shoot the first man who took
down bar, and made some comments
on their parentage.
A few hours before they had gone
by his quarters jerking an old preach
er at the end of lariat. AS they
passed they announced that they
would come back for the stage horse
in the corral at three o'clock in the
afternoon. The young man with the
gun had replied that he would be
there when they came back. He was
paid to feed, harness, and protect the
company's property, and intended to
earn his money. The ten visiting
gentlemen tied their horses to the
corral, and turned to the more cheer
full duty of exterminating the impru-
dent and forward young watchman.
He retired into his dug-out domlclle,
barred the door, and stood waiting
with rife in his hand. Even then
he had the habit of not shooting un-
til the occasion really demanded it.
The highwaymen hunted up a log from
the cottonwoods, and with praisewor
thy industry proceeded to batter
down the door. jim McKandlas,
with a revolver bowie-knife, a whoop
and yell leaped across the threshold
and into eternity. AS the others rush
ed through the door the man inside
fred three shots, with that accuracy
of aim for which he was so much ad
mired in the years that were to come.
The six somewhat startled horse
thieves who remained alive swarmed
across the dug-out floor. and piled
upon the young station keeper with
revolvers and bowie knives. One beat
him over the head with gun, and
Bill McKandlas struck with bowie
knife only to bury it in the table,
and With a bullet in his heart. to sud-
denly terminate a career which had
furnished an infinite variety of interest
for the sheriffs and vigilants of several
counties. The rusty stove fell from
its insecure foundation across the
surging combatants. mixed in mex
tricable and sanguinary confusion.
Outside a horse broke his hitching
strpp and galloped way. The little
table broke down beneath the weight
of a thousand pounds of shootiong.
stabbing, swearing frontlersmen. Ihe
fattest bandit rolled toward the door,
and catching glimpse of the brown
prairies outside, which looked good
to him. suddenly reached the conclu
sion that he did not really need any
stage company horses in his business
and bolted.
Bv this time the affair had ceased
to have for the other four horse fan
ciers that enticing interest which
had drawn them into it. As he after
wards expressed it, the young man IN
charge of the stage station had gone
Wild Covered with wounds and
freckled with bullet holes he had lost
every thought and instinct except the
lust OF death and victory. As they
fought he struck the sixth man IN the
throat with the bowie. and the man
fell across the little pile of blankets.
The three who were now on their teet
retreated through the door and toward
their horses, their host staggering
after them with the CLEAN OF battle
still in his blue eye. That morning
his associate in the company's service
had gone hunting, to return on the
run barely in time to witness the close
of the tragedy. Doc Mills. the associate.
had lost a golden op opportunity. While
he was out shooting quail, Fame had
knocked at the dug-out door. handed
laurel to James Butler Hickok, and
passed on. Hickok wrested the gun
from Mills's hand, and killed another
of his fleeing foes before they were
fifty yards away. One, badly wound
ed, sped down the little creek, found
his way to Manhattan, and died with
in two days. The ninth more fortu--
nate, mounted horse, and followed
the fat deserter across the prairie.
When the stage from the East came
rumbling in, nalf an hour later, they
found this hero of the most savage and
the most remarkable conflict in border
annals insensible and at the point OF
death. The floor of his dugout looked
like the deck of a vikings warshlp al
ter glorious triumph. Six months
ELAPSED before he recovered. He had
beaten ten men in fair fight, killing
eight of them. but he had won his
fight, saved his employers property.
and henceforth he was Wild Bill
for all time.-E. G. Little in Every