Colonel
Cody autographed a late photo of himself and asked that it be placed
beside a picture of his Indian friends. There it hangs today.
In
the afternoon of that memorable day at The Wigwam, Colonel Cody
assembled the chiefs and sub-chiefs with his show to hold a ceremony
for making a real Sioux Chief of the writer. Iron Tail made the
impressive ceremonial speeches. I reciprocated by presenting the chief
with a new repeating rifle as a tribute and token of my everlasting
friendship. Mrs. McCreight was also dedicated as a good squaw, and
feathers placed on her head. Cody and the editor of the local
newspaper, the Journal, were the only white witnesses.
Colonel
Cody stood about six feet tall. His was a kindly countenance, and he
always had a kindly word for everyone. His hair was beginning to turn
gray, and hung half-way to his waist. He wore a heavy mustache,
carefully trimmed, and a bushy goatee. In his white wide-brim sombrero,
he, when mounted erectly on his big white horse with flowing mane and
tail, made a thrilling picture that was famous all over the world. He
had taken his Wild West to Europe and exhibited in London, Paris,
Amsterdam, Rome and Venice. In London, Queen Victoria asked for a
special performance for herself and guests. The Sioux Chief, Red Shirt,
put on a spirited war dance, The Queen applauded, and presented Red
Shirt with a royal tribute. (A copy of Red Shirt's portrait, in his
full regalia, hangs in the Wigwam today).
Harking back to his
dinner conversation with Monroe McCanles, Cody remarked that he would
include the story of Dave McCanles' killing in his projected
autobiography. Unfortunately, this book was never published. Years
later, the Nebraska Historical Society published a volume containing
all details of that unsavory episode---verifying the facts related by
Monroe McCanles to Colonel Cody. So, finally, the false tales of the
outlaw Hickok's bravery were exploded by truth.
There, on that
fondly remembered occasion nearly a half-century ago, Colonel Cody
reiterated what he had told me before: that "Chief Iron Tail is the
finest man I know, bar none!" He recalled with pleasure one time when
he and Iron Tail went elk-hunting in the Rockies for a week, depending
on the game they killed to supply them with food.
Seven years
later, in 1915, the writer gave a reception for Iron Tail and Flying
Hawk at the Wigwam where over a hundred guests gathered to meet them.
The two chiefs were close friends and sometimes traveled with the same
show---in this case, the 101 Ranch Show of Miller Brothers. When either
or both came within a hundred miles of DuBois, they took a few days off
and came to visit at The Wigwam. They considered it their home in the
East, and knew they were always welcome.
In 1915, Iron Tail was
with Colonel Cody's Wild West, showing in Philadelphia, when he took
sick with pneumonia and was placed in St. Luke's Hospital. I sent a wire
to Cody to send or bring the chief to The Wigwam for recovery as soon
as he was able to travel. The message was not delivered as Cody had
already left for Baltimore. The sick chief asked to be sent home. He
was placed on a sleeper and was found dead in his berth at Fort Wayne
next morning. His sudden death was a great shock to Colonel Cody. He
never knew until months later of my wire.
I next saw the Colonel
in the main dining room of the Bellevue-Stratford Hotel in Philadelphia
at the close of his 1915 season. Cody was having breakfast with his
wife. I saluted them and sat down for a chat.
The famous scout
had aged greatly since our last meeting. His hair was a mass of
straggling, wispy white and his face was deeply wrinkled. One not
knowing him of old would hardly have believed that this was the real
Buffalo Bill.
We talked about Iron Tail's death, and Cody almost
wept in his grief. He keenly regretted not receiving my wire, believing
as I did that the ailing chief might have recovered among friends at The
Wigwam. Tactfully I changed the subject. He said that he would go out
again for the 1916 season, and hoped to see us at The Wigwam on that
roundup.
But the old Colonel was about at the end of the long
trail. He went out as promised at the start of the 1916 campaign and I
saw him at the end of the last performance. Going to his tent at the
rear of the showgrounds, I found him lying on his blankets, with his
snowy head resting on his saddle. He was asleep, but roused at once at
my greeting. He arose, shook hands, and immediately spoke of Iron Tail.
With deep emotion, he said he was going to put a granite stone on the
chief's grave, with a replica of the buffalo nickel (for which Iron
Tail had posed) carved on it as a memento. Cody's voice trembled as he
again expressed his great regret at not receiving my telegram that
might have saved Iron Tail's life.
I was shocked and saddened to
observe how feeble he was. I helped him to his feet, guided him to his
private car and saw him to his berth. I shook hands with him for the
last time. Not long after, Buffalo Bill went to his last long sleep. |
sent here by our Creator to tell the world today
the true story of our people. When you leave Mother Earth, you will
return to your real self and our Ancient Ones will welcome you with
outstretched arms. The prairies and forests will look golden and green
to you and your moccasins will walk on smooth grasses. The sky will be
blue, and here and there from skin and bark lodges you will see smoke
rising into the sky. Your ears will hear the good music of singing
voices, which will blend with the tom-tom music that belongs to this
great Island. The faces you will see will be dark faces, and they will
be smiling at you as you walk to greet them.