I said:  “Mr. Campbell, it depends altogether in what part of the country you want to go.  I could take you on the waters of the Gila river where you would be perfectly safe, but whether it would be where you want to go or not is the question.”  I drew a diagram of that part of the country as best I could, showing the different tributaries to the river, pointing out the region where they would be safe and also that which they would not dare enter on account of the hostile Apache Indians.

Mr. Campbell asked me if I would remain with them until spring.  I told him I would, and they made me a proposition, which I accepted.  They were to furnish all the pack animals necessary for the outfit and to board me, I to furnish my own saddle-horses.  I advised them to go to Taos with a wagon and team, and buy their pack animals there as they would be able to get them much cheaper than in Denver.  They proposed that I go to Taos and buy the pack animals and have everything ready by the time they would arrive, as they had business which would necessarily detain them for at least two weeks.  This I agreed to do.

That afternoon I was walking down the street near the Planters House when I met a policeman in great haste, making his way for the hotel mentioned.  As he approached me he said:  “I deputize you to assist me in making the arrest of those stage drivers in the Planters’ House.”  This was a crowd of men who were driving stage at that time for the notorious Slade, of whom more will be said later on.

I had left my side arms at Mr. Favor’s store, not thinking I would have any occasion to use them, but at the request of the policeman, I entered the hotel and found a general row proceeding.  As soon as we entered the door two or three of the crowd made for me, I backed off and defended myself the best that I could, until I had backed to the end of the hall.  The door at the end of the hall being shut, I could back no farther.  Here I sparred with them for some time, when one of them struck at me with all vengeance and just grazed the side of my face.  As I threw my head and shoulders back to dodge the blow I knocked the whole upper portion of the glass door out.  Just at that instant Wm. F. Cody, better known as Buffalo Bill, seeing the predicament I was in, and seeing that I was unarmed, caught me by the shoulders and jerked me through that window much quicker than I could tell it.  He handed me one of his pistols and said:  “Come on pard, and we will take them fellows or know the reason why.”

When we entered the door they had the policeman and bar-keeper both cornered behind the bar, but seeing that we were prepared for them, strange to say, not one of them drew his pistol, but all surrendered at once, and the entire crowd, six in number, were escorted to the cooler.

The name of this policeman was William Deecy, and he is now living in Boulder, Montana.  I saw him less than one year ago, and we enjoyed a good laugh as we rehearsed the affair of the Planters’ House.