er.

"I'll just play that fifty dollar bill as it lays. If it loses, it's
yours; if it wins, you'll pay me fifty dollars, or I'll know the
reason why."

"I am running this game, and I want no talk from you, sir," said Boulder.

One word brought on another, until Boulder threatened to have Bill put
out of the house. Bill was carrying the butt end of a billiard cue for a
cane, and bending over the table, he said: "You'd rob a blind man." Then
he suddenly tapped Boulder on the head with the cane, with such force as
to knock him over. With another sweep of the cane he tumbled the
"look-out" from his chair, and then reaching over into the money drawer
he grabbed a handful of greenbacks and stuck them in his pocket.

At this stage of the game four or five men--who were employed as
"bouncers" for the establishment to throw out the noisy persons--rushed
up to capture Bill, but he knocked them right and left with his cane, and
seeing the whole crowd was now closing in on him, he jumped into a
corner, and with each hand drew a revolver and faced the enemy. At this
moment the bar-keeper recognized him, and sang out in a loud voice:

"Look out boys--that's Wild Bill you've run against."

That settled the matter; for when they heard the name of Wild Bill they
turned and beat a hasty retreat out of the doors and windows, and in less
time than it takes to tell it, Wild Bill was the only man in the room.
He coolly walked over to Dyer's hotel, and retired for the night. Boulder
claimed that he had taken $500, but he really got only $200. Boulder,
upon learning that it was Wild Bill who had cleaned him out, said nothing
more about the money. The next day the two men met over a bottle of wine,
and settled their differences in an amicable manner.

Poor Bill was afterwards killed at Deadwood, in the Black Hills, in a
cowardly manner, by a desperado who sneaked up behind him while he was
playing a game of cards in a saloon, and shot him through the back of the
head, without the least provocation. The murderer, Jack McCall, was tried
and hung at Yankton, Dakotah, for the crime. Thus ended the career of a
life-long friend of mine who, in spite of his many faults, was a noble
man, ever brave and generous hearted.

Jack and myself continued playing through the country after Wild Bill
left us, and we finally closed our season in Boston on the 13th of
May, 1874.

Business called me from Boston to New York, and after I had been there a
fe