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242
cattle thieves as ever infested a country, or were ever congregated in a space of that size. After an hour spent in propositions and counter-propositions, we agreed to disagree, and started back to our own crowd with the promise of not being fired on until we reached them. But we had only traversed about three-fourths of the distance when there was an avalanche of lead sent in our direction, and poor Jimmy, Sheriff William Bradley, and a ranchman by the name of George Hindman, were instantly killed. Our posse then withdrew.
The killing inflamed the whole Southwest, as all of the dead men were fine men and, with the exception of Jimmy, all had families.
After a few days of rest, Garrett started out with the avowed intention of staying on the trail until he got The Kid," either dead or alive, and in the summer of 1882 he located him at Sumner, New Mexico, and killed him first reading the warrant to him afterwards.
Pat Garrett was one of the bravest of frontier officers, and one who never took advantage of an enemy, no matter what the circumstances or provocation. A short time later he was killed by an outlaw by the name of Wayne Brazel, at Las Cruces, New Mexico, where his grave is now marked by a monument erected by the people of that state, who knew and loved him.
I do not know of a more exciting time for yours truly than when "Billy the Kid" and his grand aggregation of murderers and cow thieves opened fire on poor Jimmy Carlyle and me, and do not know why I was not killed, but such is the case, and in a few weeks we were on our way to Dodge City by way of the Chisholm Trail with thirty thousand head of cattle rounded up in New Mexico and Texas.
If this little story comes to the eye of any of the oldtime boys who were on this drive with me, I would certainly be glad to have them drop me a line.