I had left my side arms at Mr. Favor's store, not thinking I would have any occasion to use them, but at the request of the policeman, I entered the hotel and found a general row proceeding. As soon as we entered the door two or three of the crowd made for me, I backed off and defended myself the best that I could, until I had backed to the end of the hall. The door at the end of the hall being shut, I could back no farther. Here I sparred with them for some time, when one of them struck at me with all vengeance and just grazed the side of my face. As I threw my head and shoulders back to dodge the blow I knocked the whole upper portion of the glass door out. Just at that instant Wm. F. Cody, better known as Buffalo Bill, seeing the predicament I was in, and seeing that I was unarmed, caught me by the shoulders and jerked me through that window much quicker than I could tell it. He handed me one of his pistols and said: "Come on pard, and we will take them fellows or know the reason why." When we entered the door they had the policeman and bar-keeper both cornered behind the bar, but seeing that we were prepared for them, strange to say, not one of them drew his pistol, but all surrendered at once, and the entire crowd, six in number, were escorted to the cooler. The name of this policeman was William Deecy, and he is now living in Boulder, Montana. I saw him less than one year ago, and we enjoyed a good laugh as we rehearsed the affair of the Planters' House. That afternoon after having his business attended to, Uncle Kit went to Mr. Favor and said: "Joe, I want you and your friends from St. Louis to come and take supper with me this evening at the same hotel where we had supper last evening." When Uncle Kit spoke in this manner Mr. Favor felt sure that he had changed his mind in regard to having his life written up, and before going to supper, in the absence of Uncle Kit, Mr. Favor asked me about it. I told him he had not. Whereupon he proposed betting me a new hat that those parties would write up his, Kit Carson's, life. I said; "Not by his consent." "Yes," said he, "by his own consent." This bet I accepted, and that night Mr. Favor and all of his St. Louis friends accompanied us from the store down to the hotel for supper. There was one gentleman in the crowd who was a splendid talker, and apparently an intelligent man, and when at the supper table that night, he mentioned the matter to Uncle Kit again of having his life published. On turning his eyes to the refined gentleman, he said: "I would have you understand that when I say anything I mean it. I told you in plain English last evening that I would not submit to anything of that kind, and now don't compel me to talk too harsh, but please drop the subject at once."