As mentioned in a previous chapter, Wild Bill was a fatalist--at least he believed that he was predestined to be killed. In fact, it would appear from his oft-repeated assertion, that “he would die with his boots on,” that he brooded over this belief and was frequently attacked by melancholy superinduced by that impression. The very few intimate friends Bill had were well acquainted with his peculiar belief in spiritualism. He claimed to be clairavoyant, especially when danger threatened, and the many narrow escapes he had gave some evidences of the reality of his spiritual sight, but the manner in which he met his death furnishes a _contra_ proof. It was only at rare intervals he could be induced to talk of his terrible conflicts, and even when he was in the most communicative mood, the particulars of his encounters had to be extracted by the most patient and persistent endeavors. Dr. Thorne and Capt. Kingsbury, the two gentlemen previously referred to, enjoyed the most confidential relations with Wild Bill. Kingsbury was a captain in the Second United States cavalry at the time Bill was acting as guide for that regiment, and, as the two were acquainted many years before, their intimacy became much greater during this companionship in the service. Dr. Thorne was Bill’s physician, and divided his purse with him many times when Bill was in pecuniary straits. Bill was a frequent visitor to Dr. Thorne’s house, and there were few secrets that he kept from his physician friend. During one of the conversations had with Dr. Thorne, Wild Bill asseverated that in all his fights he was surrounded by spirits, who kept him cool and collected while they made fools of his enemies. It was to their presence on trying occasions that he gave the credit for the nerve and fearlessness he displayed. His character, in some respects, was enigmatical. While rarely evading a fight, yet he was always sorry for its consequences. After his great fight with the McCandlas gang, at Rock Creek, he sought and found Jim McCandlas’ widow, and, finding that she was almost destitute, he contributed to her support several years and until her death. Dr. Thorne had removed eleven bullets from Bill’s body, nearly all of which had been received in the Rock Creek fight, but while enduring the pain consequent upon their extraction, he had nothing but kind feelings towards those who shot him. He had seven bullets in various parts of his body at the time of his death. His conclusions were always logical, and his manner of conversation most convincing. He was a listener rather than a talker, and his answers to inquiries were usually made in conclusive gestures. He loved the society of the refined, and attributed his difficulties solely to the associations he was, in a measure, compelled to keep.