During this conversation Bill appeared to be unusually sad, and when he referred to his death it was with a seriousness which indicated that he had been notified of his tragic end by some terrible presentiment.
He was an expert poker-player, and followed no other calling while in Kansas City. The place was fairly filled with gamblers, and up to 1875 the voice of the keno caller could be heard in nearly every other building on Main street, between Missouri avenue and Fourth street. The Marble block, and houses on the west side of the square, were particularly the haunts of gamblers. Murders and rows were not infrequent, but Bill kept out of all difficulties. He was both feared and respected. His carriage was that of a peaceable gentleman, and during the three years he made Kansas City his home, he was a party to but one row, and that was of minor consequence. This difficulty occurred in the St. Nicholas Hotel bar-room, owned by Joe Siegmund, now the proprietor of a hotel in Malvern, Arkansas. A foppish fellow, half-drunk, being told that the party drinking at the bar was Wild Bill, went up to him, and, in a most provoking manner, asked Bill if he was the desperado who had been killing men indiscriminately out West. The impertinent inquiry called forth from Bill an equally insulting reply. The fellow, evidently bent on a row, then began to talk of shooting, and his ability “to lick any border ruffian that ever lived.” Bill walked up to him slowly, and as the senseless fop was attempting to draw a pistol, he caught him by one ear and slapped his face until the fellow howled for mercy.
A PRIZE FIGHT IN A CHICAGO BILLIARD ROOM.
In 1874 Bill engaged in a battle with a tribe of Indians under Black-Kettle, in which he received a severe wound from a spear thrust through his thigh. Being very much disabled he paid a visit to his aged mother and relatives at Troy Grove, Illinois, where he remained some weeks and until the wound healed. Before returning west he went to Chicago to see his old friend, Heman Baldwin, and while there the two entered the St. James Hotel bar to play a game of billiards. While being thus engaged seven Chicago roughs began bantering him on account of the buckskin clothes he wore and challenged him for a prize fight. Bill replied to them that he was not a fighting man, and that he was at that time still suffering from a newly healed wound. They continued their insults, and finally told him that he had to fight or acknowledge that he was a coward and his reported exploits bogus. Bill’s courage came to the surface quickly enough, and drawing his two pistols--both of which were presents to him from Vice-President Wilson--the fight began, one man against seven. The pistols were used as “billys,” and in a few seconds the seven roughs were stretched upon the floor and completely at Bill’s mercy. The injuries they received consisted of severe scalp wounds, the marks from which will be carried through life.