Billy the Kid. Charles A. Siringo

a rock from the street. The “tough” made a rush at Billy, and as he passed Ed. Moulton he planted a blow back of his ear, and laid him sprawling on the ground.

      This act cemented a friendship between Ed. Moulton and the future young outlaw.

      About three weeks later Ed. Moulton got into a fight with two toughs in Joe Dyer’s saloon. He was getting the best of the fight. The young blacksmith who had insulted Mrs. Antrim and who had been knocked down by Ed. Moulton, saw a chance for revenge. He rushed at Moulton with an uplifted chair. Billy Bonney was standing near by, on nettles, ready to render assistance to his benefactor, at a moment’s notice. The time had now arrived. He sprang at the blacksmith and stabbed him with a knife three times. He fell over dead.

      Billy ran out of the saloon, his right hand dripping with human blood.

      Now to his dear mother’s arms, where he showered her pale cheeks with kisses for the last time.

      Realizing the result of his crime, he was soon lost in the pitchy darkness of the night, headed towards the southwest, afoot. For three days and nights Billy wandered through the cactus covered hills, without seeing a human being.

      Luck finally brought him to a sheep camp, where the Mexican herder gave him food.

      From the sheep camp he went to McKnight’s ranch and stole a horse, riding away without a saddle.

      Three weeks later a boy and a grown man rode into Camp Bowie, a government post. Both were on a skinny, sore-back pony. This new found companion had a name and history of his own, which he was nursing in secret. He gave his name to Billy as “Alias,” and that was the name he was known by around Camp Bowie.

      Finally Billy, having disposed of his sore-back pony, started out for the Apache Indian Reservation, with “Alias,” afoot. They were armed with an old army rifle and a six-shooter, which they had borrowed from soldiers.

      About ten miles southwest of Camp Bowie these two young desperados came onto three Indians, who had twelve ponies, a lot of pelts and several saddles, besides good fire-arms, and blankets. In telling of the affair afterwards, Billy said: “It was a ground-hog case. Here were twelve good ponies, a supply of blankets, and five heavy loads of pelts. Here were three blood-thirsty savages revelling in luxury and refusing help to two free-born, white, American citizens, foot-sore and hungry. The plunder had to change hands. As one live Indian could place a hundred United States soldiers on our trail, the decision was made.

      “In about three minutes there were three dead Indians stretched out on the ground, and with their ponies and plunder we skipped. There was no fight. It was the softest thing I ever struck.”

      About one hundred miles from this bloody field of battle, the surplus ponies and plunder were sold and traded off to a band of Texas emigrants.

      Finally the two young brigands settled down in Tucson, where Billy’s skill as a monte dealer, and card player kept them in luxuriant style, and gave them prestige among the sporting fraternity.

      Becoming tired of town life, the two desperadoes hit the trail for San Simon, where they beat a band of Indians out of a lot of money in a “fake” horse race.

      The next we hear of Billy Bonney is in the State of Sonora, Old Mexico, where he went alone, according to his own statement.

      In Sonora he joined issues with a Mexican gambler named Melquiades Segura. One night the two murdered a monte dealer, Don Jose Martinez, and secured his “bank roll.”

      Now the two desperadoes shook the dust of Sonora from their feet and landed in the city of Chihuahua, the capital of the State of Chihuahua, several hundred miles to the eastward, across the Sierra Madres mountains.

      Chapter II.

       Table of Contents

      A Fierce Battle with Apache Indians. Single Handed Billy Bonney Liberates Segura from Jail.

      In the city of Chihuahua, the two desperadoes led a hurrah life among the sporting elements. Finally their money was gone and their luck at cards went against them. Then Billy and Segura held up and robbed several monte dealers, when on the way home after their games had closed for the night. One of these monte dealers had offended Billy, which caused his death.

      One morning before the break of day, this monte dealer was on his way home; a peon was carrying his fat “bank roll” in a buckskin bag, finely decorated with gold and silver threads.

      When nearing his residence in the outskirts of the city, Segura and young Bonney made a charge from behind a vacant adobe building. The one-sided battle was soon over. A popular Mexican gambler lay stretched dead on the ground. The peon willingly gave up the sack of gold and silver.

      Now towards the Texas border, in a north-easterly direction, a distance of three hundred miles, as fast as their mounts could carry them.

      When their horses began to grow tired, other mounts were secured. Their bills were paid enroute, with gold doubloons taken from the buckskin sack.

      On reaching the Rio Grande river, which separates Texas from the Republic of Mexico, the young outlaws separated for the time being.

      Billy Bonney finally met up with his Silver City chum, Jesse Evans, and they became partners in crime, in the bordering state of Texas, and the Territories of New Mexico and Arizona. Many robberies and some murders were committed by these smooth-faced boys, and they had many narrow escapes from death, or capture. Fresh horses were always at their command, as they were experts with the lasso, and the scattering ranchmen all had bands of ponies on the range.

      On one occasion the boys ate dinner with a party of Texas emigrants, and were well treated. Leaving the emigrant camp, a band of renegade Apache Indians were seen skulking in the hills. The boys concealed themselves to await results, as they felt sure a raid was to be made on the emigrants, who were headed for the Territory of Arizona. There were only three men in the party, and several women and children.

      Just at dusk, the boys, who were stealing along their trail in the low, flint covered hills, heard shooting.

      Realizing that a battle was on, Billy Bonney and Jesse Evans put spurs to their mounts and reached the camp just in time.

      By this time it was dark. The three men had succeeded in standing off the Indians for awhile, but finally a rush was made on the camp, by the reds, with blood curdling war whoops.

      At that moment the two young heroes charged among the Indians and sprang off their horses, with Winchester rifles in hand.

      For a few moments the battle raged. One bullet shattered the stock of Billy’s rifle, cripping his left hand slightly. He then dropped the rifle and used his pistol.

      When the battle was over, eight dead Indians lay on the ground.

      The emigrants had shielded themselves by getting behind the wagons. Two of the men were slightly wounded, and the other dangerously shot through the stomach. One little girl had a fractured skull from a blow on the head with a rifle. The mother of the child fainted on seeing her daughter fall.

      In telling of this battle, Billy Bonney said the war-whoops shouted by himself and Jesse, as they charged into the band of Indians, helped to win the battle. He said a bullet knocked the heel off one of his boots, and that Jesse’s hat was shot off his head. He felt sure that the man shot through the stomach died, though he never heard of the party after separating.

      Soon after the Indian battle Billy Bonney and Jesse Evans landed in the Mexican village of La Mesilla, New Mexico, and there met up with some of Jesse’s chums. Their names were Jim McDaniels, Bill Morton, and Frank Baker.

      During their stay in Mesilla, Jim McDaniels christened Billy Bonney, “Billy the Kid,” and that name stuck to him to the time of his death.

      Finally