"Wild Bill" Hickok, who had been city marshal at Abilene, Kan., blew into Cheyenne in 1874 along with Texas Charley and a few more "bad men." Things were booming in the Wyoming metropolis. Gold had been discovered in the Black Hills, and the crowds of fortune-seekers from every point of the compass had begun to flock in. Men were there from South Africa, Brazil, California and Australia, intermingling with the New Englander, the Middle Westerners, the cowboys and bullwhackers and others attracted by the reports of fabulous discoveries. Cheyenne was the chief outfitting point for a trip into the hills, although thousands tramped through the sands of the Bad Lands to the new Eldorado via Fort Pierre.

It meant big work for the small police force of Cheyenne, for there were, besides the "killers" of the "Wild Bill" order, garroters and other crooks from near and far to look after. Gambling didn't bother the authorities at all, and such characters as "Canada Bill," the most famous of all the confidence men, were, as a matter of fact, able to ply their trade almost unmolested.

"Canada Bill" had the appearance of a Methodist preacher of that period, wearing a black broadcloth, long-tailed coat, trousers of the same material, a black felt hat, "biled" shirt and black bow tie. He carried an old-fashioned satchel made of oil cloth, a pattern of which is seen nowadays only on the vaudeville stage. "Bill" was certainly an innocent-looking individual—solemn-faced and perfectly harmless—apparently. He spent most of his time on the U. P. passenger trains between Omaha and Cheyenne and is said to have swindled travelers out of an aggregate of $100,000 at three-card monte, a form of swindling in great vogue at that time. Cheyenne was his headquarters and he was almost as well known as any man in the town; but he followed his profession practically undisturbed for several years, and I doubt if he ever spent a day in jail. Has victims included some men who prided themselves on their shrewdness.

"Wild Bill" Hickok was perhaps the best known "character" in Cheyenne in the 70's. He, too, was a ministerial-looking person, but was not a confidence operator. He was just a plain gambler, and not a very good one, but he managed to escape the halter every time he put a notch in his gun. "Bill" killed no one in Cheyenne; in fact, his days there were quiet and prosy. His killings were all done in Kansas at the time the K. P. was being built from the Missouri to Denver. When in Cheyenne he was on his last legs—had begun, as they say nowadays, to slow up. Nevertheless, he was feared by a great many, owing to his reputation, although among certain classes it was generally understood that he had lost his nerve. This was demonstrated while the Black Hills excitement was at its height. "Bill" was more than six feet tall, straight and thin. He carried two big revolvers in his belt and they protruded sometimes from the side of his long broadcloth coat. He also carried a bowie knife. But for all this and his reputation, he weakened one night when an undersized little California buccaro challenged him to walk into the street and fight a duel at twenty paces. "Bill" laid down, saying his eyes had gone back on him and that his shooting days were over.

Shortly after this incident the Cheyenne authorities decided to rid the town of a few of the worst criminals, so they tacked a notice on telegraph poles containing a list of a dozen or more names of men, headed by "Wild Bill," giving them twenty-four hours' time to get out of town. When "Bill" saw the notice he smiled, and with his bowie knife cut the notice into ribbons, and he stayed until he got ready to leave some months later. He went to Custer City, then to Deadwood, where he met his death at the hands of an avenger, who shot him in the back as he sat in a poker game. His murderer claimed "Bill" had killed his brother in Kansas and said he had followed him for two years, waiting for a chance to kill him. "Bill" had a rule of life that he violated the night he died, and that was never to sit with his back to a door or window. On the fatal night he sat with his back to a half-open door into which the avenger crept.

"Wild Bill" was a "road agent" (a highwayman) long before the Black Hills stampede and frequently entertained a crowd with descriptions of the raids he and his pals made upon the Mormon emigrants when they were enroute from Nauvoo, Ill., to Salt Lake. According to his own stories he was a heartless brute. Many deeds, however, that have been laid at his door, and others that he bragged about, were never committed. It has been estimated that he murdered all the way from fifteen to thirty men, but most of these were killed while he was marshal.

One story that used to be told in Cheyenne, but which was not authenticated, was that on one occasion at Abilene he entered a restaurant for breakfast and ordered ham and eggs "turned over." The waiter returned with the eggs fried on one side and "Bill" angrily said:

"I told you to have them eggs turned over!"

Whereupon the waiter playfully gave the dish a flip and turned them over. This so angered "Bill" that he shot the waiter dead, and then finished his meal, the poor waiter's body lying at his feet.

There was so much garroting of men who came to Cheyenne to join the rush into the hills that some of the wiser ones slipped outside the town at night and slept on the prairie, while others, armed to the teeth, either walked the streets or formed companies with guards for protection. It was a condition of affairs that gave the authorities more than they could handle at the start. However, after the first few months of excitement Cheyenne began to be good, and soon the civilization and order of older communities was apparent on every hand.

The railroad shortened the distance between the frontier and "God's Country," and before one could realize it Cheyenne was as orderly and well behaved as Worcester, Mass. So it is today. "Wild Bill," "Texas Jack," "Canada Bill" and the thieves and gamblers, with their guns and daggers, are forgotten; and if some of them could come back and tramp the streets again they would be as great curiosities as they would be on Broadway, New York, or State Street, Chicago—and they would land in jail or get out of town unless they walked a chalk-mark.

Cheyenne has long been in "God's country," although at the time discussed it was a long way over the line.