Gunshots rang out inside the saloon. One man lay unconscious on the floor. An unarmed Theodore Roosevelt stood over the ruffian, taking in the moment that would secure his place among the rough and tumble of the Bad Lands.
The gunman had been taunting patrons in the isolated saloon, even shooting up the establishment’s clock. “Four Eyes!” the man yelled at Roosevelt when he walked in. “Four Eyes is going to treat!” Roosevelt laughed and sauntered to a corner table. With both guns cocked, the man strode over to Roosevelt, leaned over him, and demanded he buy drinks. Roosevelt stood, feigning obedience to the demand, then quickly landed three punches to the man’s head.
