high value. He was easily the best superintendent on the line. But his
habit of man-killing at last resulted in his execution.

Another man who gained even greater notoriety than Slade was "Wild
Bill" Hickock, a tall, yellow-haired giant who had done splendid
service as a scout in the western sector of the Civil War.

"Wild Bill" I had known since 1857. He and I shared the pleasure of
walking a thousand miles to the Missouri River, after the bull-train in
which we both were employed had been burned by Lot Smith, the Mormon
raider. Afterward we rode the Pony Express together.

While an express rider, Bill had the fight with the McCandless gang
which will always form an interesting chapter in the history of the
West.

Coming into his swing station at Rock Creek one day, Bill failed to
arouse any one with his shouts for a fresh mount. This was a certain
indication of trouble. It was the stock-tender's business to be on hand
with a relief pony the instant the rider came in. The Pony Express did
not tolerate delays.

Galloping into the yard, Bill dismounted and hurried to the stable. In
the door he saw the stock-tender lying dead, and at the same instant a
woman's screams rang from the cabin near by. Turning about, Bill found
himself face to face with a ruffian who was rushing from the house,
brandishing a six-shooter. He asked no questions, but pulled one of the
two guns he carried and fired. No sooner had the man fallen, however,
than a second, also armed, came out of the house. Hickock disposed of
this fellow also, and then entered the place, where four others opened