After the excitement of the terrific combat was over, Bill fainted from loss of blood, and was carried into the dugout by his partner, Doc. Mills. The sight on the inside was now terrible. Six men lay dead on the floor. Jim McCandlas’ body was lying across the threshold of the door, almost half submerged in his blood. Hideous gashes and large bullet-holes had opened the reservoir of blood which formed in large pools, after making small creeks over the floor. The countenances of the dead men were most revolting. Not a groan escaped the lips of any of the victims after Doc. Mills entered with Bill’s half-lifeless body, which he lay tenderly on the rude bed; every one had been killed outright. Those shot evidenced Bill’s coolness and deliberate aim throughout the terrible ordeal; each was shot either in the heart or head, and the terrible dagger had been thrust with equal precision to the wells of the heart. In less than one hour after the fight was over, the stage from Denver arrived, full of passengers, some of whom were thus introduced for the first time to the desperation of Western life. Wild Bill rallied sufficiently to tell the story of his dreadful encounter with ten of the most desperate men that ever cut a man’s throat or robbed a stable. Every attention that could be shown was given Bill. He was too badly cut and shot to admit of removal, but a surgeon was sent for from Manhattan, and old Mrs. Watkins, who lived within five miles of the station, came down as soon as she heard the news, and volunteered her services to nurse him. Bill’s wounds consisted of a fracture of the skull, three gashes on the breast, and a cut to the bone on his left forearm. There were seven balls in his legs and body, and there was scarcely a place on his face, limbs or body that was not black from bruises he had received. It would seem impossible that a man could survive such injuries, but, nevertheless, in six months Bill was out again, and in less than one year he was as sound physically as ever. It is not necessary to say that the McCandlas boys never entered the Confederate army, and the manner in which they left the service they had been in so long was cause for thanks. The people of that section worshiped Bill as no other man. He had civilized the neighborhood. A RUNNING FIGHT WITH CONFEDERATES.