Boulder, upon learning that it was Wild Bill who had cleaned him out, said nothing more about the money.

The next day the two men met over a bottle of wine, and settled their differences in an amicable manner.
Poor Bill was afterwards killed at Deadwood, in the Black Hills, in a cowardly manner, by a desperado who sneaked up behind him while he was playing a game of cards in a saloon, and shot him through the back of the head, without the least provocation.

The murderer, Jack McCall, was tried and hung at Yankton, Dakotah, for the crime.

Thus ended the career of a life-long friend of mine who, in spite of his many faults, was a noble man, ever brave and generous hearted.
Jack and myself continued playing through the country after Wild Bill left us, and we finally closed our season in Boston on the 13th of May, 1874.
Business called me from Boston to New York, and after I had been there a few days, I met an English gentleman, Thomas P.Medley, of London, who had come to America for a hunt on the Plains.

He had often heard of me, and was anxious to engage me as his guide and companion, and he offered to pay the liberal salary of one thousand dollars a month while I was with him.