writing the story. He heard the train whistle announcing that it was about to leave the station, but he was not concerned, for Bismarck would be their last stop as passengers. From here Ingraham, Falcon, and Cody would go by riverboat down the Missouri to Standing Rock Reservation where they would speak with Sitting Bull.
Ingraham composed the story quickly, writing it with large and easily read strokes of the pen.
FALCON MACCALLISTER AND
BUFFALO BILL CODY THE HEROES
This scribe is well known throughout the world for penning epic and heroic tales of the valiant and exciting exploits of America’s daring and intrepid Western heroes. But rarely has the author of such tales been privileged to be a personal witness to such courageous and audacious action as he was last night when this humble chronicler of bold events was on hand to see, with my own eyes, a performance so daring and so fearless that it made the fictional accounts of the popular Prentiss Ingraham novels pale in comparison.
This writer was on board the Northern Pacific train somewhere east of Bismarck, in company with Buffalo Bill Cody and Falcon MacCallister as part of our remarkable transit across America, when the attack occurred. With the muzzle flashes of their guns lighting up the dark night, eight armed and ferocious robbers attempted a train robbery. Bullets were flying through air as the outlaws went about manifesting their evil deed, and all on board the train were fraught with terror.
All were frightened, that is, except for the fearless duo of Buffalo Bill and Falcon MacCallister. For, unbeknownst to the would-be perpetrators of this dastardly crime, there were, among the passengers, two of America’s most storied heroes. Cool and professional in the face of danger, these two intrepid gentlemen, Falcon MacCallister and Buffalo Bill Cody, engaged the road agents in a deadly gunfight. And whereas the missiles launched by the outlaws flew through the night without finding any targets, the bullets fired by the intrepid duo of MacCallister and Cody wrought a terrible effect among the would-be train robbers. Three of the desperadoes were killed outright when struck by the well-aimed balls, and one was captured. The remaining four retreated into the night like the cowards they are.
Buffalo Bill Cody, as readers of this newspaper may know, is the proprietor and chief performer of the world famous Buffalo Bill Cody’s Wild West Exhibition.
When Ingraham rejoined Falcon and Cody, he was wearing a pistol.
“That’s something new,” Cody said.
“I figured if I am going to live in the Wild West, I may as well dress for the part,” Ingraham said. “Especially in light of the excitement on board the train last night.”
“I won’t ask you if you can use that,” Cody said. “I’m sure you have been in enough wars by now that you can handle it quite well.”
“As well as any of the cowboys in your show, Cody,” Ingraham said.
Cody chuckled. “I don’t doubt it.”
CHAPTER SIX
The last time Falcon had been to Fort Lincoln was in July 1876, having returned to the fort with what remained of the Seventh Cavalry after the disastrous fight at Little Big Horn.1 Because the Seventh had moved to Fort Meade, Dakota Territory, none of the Seventh remained at Fort Lincoln. Nevertheless, memories of the post, the events, and the people of Fort Lincoln came flooding back to him. But it wasn’t for nostalgia alone that Falcon was visiting. Colonel Sturgis, currently the commanding officer at Fort Lincoln, would be an ideal person to talk to with regard to the Spirit Talking movement, and it was for that reason they had come.
Reporting to the adjutant, Buffalo Bill introduced Falcon and himself.
“Lieutenant, I am Colonel William Cody, this is Colonel Falcon MacCallister, and we would like to speak to your commander.”
“You are colonels?” the young lieutenant said.
“I told you that we were,” Cody said.
“I’m sorry, sir, but you aren’t in uniform, and I can’t just let anyone in to see the commander.”
“Perhaps this will help,” Falcon said, showing the letter of commission given him by General Miles.
The lieutenant looked at the letter for a moment, then stood quickly and saluted sharply.
“I beg your pardon, sir!” he said. “Please forgive me for my behavior.”
“There is nothing to forgive, Lieutenant,” Buffalo Bill said. “You were just doing your job. Would that I had an adjutant as dedicated to protecting me from unwanted visitors.”
“Wait here, sir,” the lieutenant said. “I’ll be but a moment.”
The lieutenant went into the commandant’s office, but he left the door open and, though neither Falcon nor Cody could hear what he said to Colonel Sturgis, they certainly heard Sturgis’s reply.
“What? Falcon MacCallister and Buffalo Bill Cody are both in my office and you left them cooling their heels outside? Show them in! Show them in at once! No, wait, I’ll do it myself!”
Colonel Sturgis left his office before the lieutenant, and with a broad smile and an extended hand, he greeted Falcon and Buffalo Bill. As it turned out, both men knew him, so it was a greeting more than an introduction.
“You are here just in time for lunch,” Sturgis said. “Please, be my guests.”
“We wouldn’t want to put Mrs. Sturgis out any,” Cody said.
“Don’t be foolish, Cody,” Colonel Sturgis said. “She is the wife of a post commandant. It is her duty, always, to be prepared to feed guests.”
Mrs. Sturgis went all out in preparing the lunch, complete with a chicken consomme, roast beef, roast potatoes, lima beans, and an apple pie for dessert.
“Now, gentlemen, what brings you here?” Colonel Sturgis asked.
