Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1912-04-26

the indefatigable writer's, he must
have slain the Indian population of
America Two CT three times during his
plains experiences Mississippis of
blood were shed by his hunting knife
and his trusty tomahawk. While
Dicgey probably slew his quota Of the
red men he had no greater record
| than a dozen other scouts and Indian
fighters, who fought through the nu-
merous campaigns that finally broke
the Indians spirit.
But, according to the lurid writer's
who based their feverish tales on his
exploits, he was responsible for the
, decimation of the Indian race in a
dozen western states. So far as his
personal appearance goes, he was
drawn to life in all the weird yarns
that were published when the dime
novel of the west was its glory.
The last Of number Of lurid epi-
sodes in the career of Dickey took place
in Colorado cow town a few years be-
fore his death Dickey was hanging
around the place. living any way he
could, and one day dropped into one
of the numerous saloons. There he
found one Of his enemies leaning on
the bar, buying red liquor for all who
were thirsty.
Dickey was straightway invited to
have a drink and bluntly refused.
Enraged at this the hospitable gentle
man seized q glass Of whisky and
tried to force 1t down "Deadwood
Dicks" throat. The glass was hurled
to the floor and the reeling, fighting
men battled across the saloon and out
into the street. Dickey's enemy was
Joined by his brother, but they were
beaten off by the old Indian fighter,
who then started up the street.
Both his enemies opened fire upon
him when he was so yards away.
When the smoke cleared all three were
down in the street, and the two attack
ers were stone dead. The first shot
from his a6versaries' pistol had torn
Dickey's left hand nearly off. but he
had managed to draw and kill both
Of them before sinking to the ground.
His left hand was amputated a little
above the wrist.
There were other incidents in
"Deadwood's" career that were very
similar. He was not loud and bois-
ferrous bully of the hell-roaring type,
but he put q good many notches on
his trusty gun first and last.
His principal claim to the memory
of the present generation is in being
the central figure Of the blood-curd-
ling, pistol smoking tales that used to
keep half-grown lads awake half the
night planning to run away from
home and go out west, where they
could help in reducing the Indian
population.
"Deadwood Dick" outlived his day.
He should have died gloriously in bat
tie with the painted and befeathered
hordes Of red men on some wide and
windy Dakota plain. He did not fit
in with the modern west, which long
ago began to forget the six-shooter
and the screaming, war-whooping
Sioux braves.
Dickey was more than 70 years of
age at the time Of his death. He had
gone through more exhausting cam
paigns than many of his Indian
fighting comrades, but as long as he
was able to be on his feet he kept
his erectness and q semblance or his
old vigor. His body was literally
covered with scars received In the
many engagements he had fought
with the Indians. Knife wounds, lance
thrusts, tomahawk blows and bullet
wounds had hacked, gashed and
pierced him, but old age and natural
infirmities killed him at last.
But few of his comrades were left
when he passed away. None of them
attended the brief funeral exercises
that were held over the SCARED re-
mains of one of the most picturesque
characters OF the Vanishing west nc
had outlived most of them and the
west itself had well-nigh forgotten his
existence.
Even the books Of which he Is the
hero have almost gone out Of ex-
istence. The "yellow-back" publish
ing business is not profitable any
more and a newer class of cheap lit
erature has taken its place. Little
boys are being spanked for their
literary sins, but the causes thereof
are not the dime novels, the yellow
covered paper backs that were fought
so long by preachers, Sunday school
teachers and parents.-St. Louis Re-
public.