“The Scouts of the Plains” was an Indian drama, of course; and there were between forty and fifty “supers” dressed as Indians.  In the fight with them, Jack and I were at home.  We blazed away at each other with blank cartridges; and when the scene ended in a hand-to-hand encounter—­a general knock-down and drag-out—­the way Jack and I killed Indians was “a caution.”  We would kill them all off in one act, but they would come up again ready for business in the next.  Finally the curtain dropped; the play was ended; and I congratulated Jack and myself on having made such a brilliant and-successful debut.  There was no backing out after that.

The next morning there appeared in the Chicago papers some very funny criticisms on our first performance.  The papers gave us a better send-off than I expected, for they did not criticise us as actors.  The Chicago Times said that if Buntline had actually spent four hours in writing that play, it was difficult for any one to see what he had been doing all the time.  Buntline, as “Cale Durg,” was killed in the second act, after a long temperance speech; and the Inter-Ocean said that it was to be regretted that he had not been killed in the first act.  The company, however, was very good, and Mdlle.  Morlacchi, as “Pale Dove,” particularly fine; while Miss Cafarno “spouted” a poem of some seven hundred and three verses, more or less, of which the reader will be glad to know that I only recall the words “I was born in March.”

Our engagement proved a decided success financially, if not artistically.  Nixon was greatly surprised at the result, and at the end of the week he induced Buntline to take him in as a partner in the company.

The next week we played at DeBar’s Opera House, in St. Louis, doing an immense business.  The following week we were at Cincinnati, where the theater was so crowded every night that hundreds were unable to obtain admission.  We met with equal success all over the country.  Theatrical managers, upon hearing of this new and novel combination; which was drawing such tremendous houses, were all anxious to secure us; and we received offers of engagements at all the leading theaters.  We played one week at the Boston Theater, and the gross receipts amounted to $16,200.  We also appeared at Niblo’s Garden, New York, the theater being crowded to its utmost capacity every night of the engagement.  At the Arch Street Theater, Philadelphia, it was the same way.  There was not a single city where we did not have crowded houses.

We closed our tour on the 16th of June, 1873, at Port Jervis, New York, and when I counted up my share of the profits I found that I was only about $6,000 ahead.  I was somewhat disappointed, for, judging from our large business, I certainly had expected a greater sum.

Texas Jack and myself longed for a hunt on the Western prairies once more; and on meeting in New York a party of gentlemen who were desirous of going with us, we all started Westward, and after a pleasant trip arrived at Fort McPherson.