The boys of the school used to build play-houses or arbors among the trees and bushes for their sweethearts.  I had built a play-house for Mary, when Steve, as we called him, leveled it to the ground.  We immediately had a very lively fight, in which I got badly beaten.  The teacher heard of our quarrel and whipped us both.  This made matters worse than ever, as I had received two thrashings to Steve’s one; I smothered my angry feelings as much as possible under the humiliating circumstances, and during the afternoon recess built another play-house, thinking that Gobel would not dare to destroy a second one; but I was mistaken, for he pushed the whole structure over at the first opportunity.  I came up to him just as he finished the job, and said: 

“Steve Gobel, the next time you do that, I’ll hurt you.”  And I meant it, too; but he laughed and called me names.

[Illustration:  Two to one.]

At recess, next morning, I began the construction of still another playhouse, and when I had it about two-thirds finished, Steve slyly sneaked up to the spot and tipped the whole thing over.  I jumped for him with the quickness of a cat, and clutching him by the throat for a moment I had the advantage of him.  But he was too strong for me, and soon had me on the ground and was beating me severely.  While away from home I had someway come into possession of a very small pocket dagger, which I had carried about with me in its sheath, using it in place of a knife.  During the struggle this fell from my pocket, and my hand by accident rested upon it as it lay upon the ground.  Exasperated beyond measure at Steve’s persistence in destroying my play-houses, and smarting under his blows, I forgot myself for the moment, grasped the dagger and unthinkingly thrust it into Steve’s thigh.  Had it been larger it would probably have injured him severely; as it was, it made a small wound, sufficient to cause the blood to flow freely and Steve to cry out in affright: 

“I am killed!  O, I am killed!”

The school children all rushed to the spot and were terrified at the scene.

“What’s the matter?” asked one.

“Bill Cody has killed Steve Gobel,” replied another.

The uproar reached the teacher’s ear, and I now saw him approaching, with vengeance in his eye and a big club in his hand.  I knew that he was coming to interview me.  I was dreadfully frightened at what I had done, and undecided whether to run away or to remain and take the consequences; but the sight of that flag-staff in the school teacher’s hand was too much for me.  I no longer hesitated, but started off like a deer.  The teacher followed in hot pursuit, but soon became convinced that he could not catch me, and gave up the chase.  I kept on running, until I reached one of Russell, Major & Waddell’s freight trains which I had noticed going over the hill for the west.  Fortunately for me I knew the wagon-master, John Willis, and as soon as I recovered my breath I told him what had happened.