my visit and
plied me with questions. In the papers the next morning I found that I
had had adventures that up to that time I had never heard of. The next
evening I had my first adventure in high society, and it proved more
terrifying to me than any Indian fight I had ever taken part in.
Finding I had no proper raiment for a big ball, which was to be given
in my honor, "Mike" Sheridan took me to the clothing department of
Marshall Field's, where I was fitted with an evening suit.

The general's valet assisted me into these garments that evening. My
long brown hair still flowed down over my shoulders and I was
determined to go to the barber's and have it sheared before I made a
public appearance, but General Sheridan would not hear of this. He
insisted that I crown my long locks with a plug hat, but here I was
adamant. I would go to the party in my Stetson or I would not go to the
party at all.

The ball was held at the Riverside Hotel, which was then one of the
fashionable hostelries of Chicago. When I was escorted in, I was told
to give the colored boy my hat and coat--to this I violently objected.
I prized the coat beyond all my earthly possessions and intended to
take no chances with it. I was finally persuaded that the boy was a
responsible employee of the hotel and reluctantly gave him the garment.
Then I suffered myself to be led into the ballroom. Here I met a bevy
of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. Fearing every minute that
I would burst my new and tight evening clothes, I bowed to them all
around--but very stiffly. To the general's request that I join in the
next dance I entered a firm refusal. I knew no dances but square
dances, so they got up an old-fashioned quadrille for me and I managed
somehow to go through it. As soon as it was over, I hurriedly escorted
my fair partner to her seat, then I quickly made my way to the barroom.
The man behind the bar appreciated my plight. He stowed me away in a
corner behind the icebox and in that corner I remained for the rest of
the evening.

Several times the general and his friends came down to "moisten up,"
and each time I heard them wondering aloud what had become of me. When
the music stopped and the party broke up I emerged from my
hiding-place. The next morning I reported to the general and explained
to him that I was going back to the sagebrush. If New York were like
Chicago, I wanted to be excused. But he insisted that I continue my
trip.

At el