FOOTNOTES:[3]The scene of the Parker Massacre is located by some authorities, in Limestone County, somewhat further north. Accounts of the event itself also differ. The details here given are from "Texas Rangers" by A.J. Sowell, and are said to have been supplied by eye-witnesses.[4]"Texas Rangers," by A.J. Sowell, of Seguin, Tex., 1884.[5]The Ranger's boots like those of the cowboy are made with high heels to prevent his foot from slipping through the stirrup. Both the Ranger and the cowboy ride with the stirrup in the middle of the foot, it being safer and also less fatiguing on a long ride, sometimes a distance of a hundred miles between daylight and dark.
FOOTNOTES:
[3]The scene of the Parker Massacre is located by some authorities, in Limestone County, somewhat further north. Accounts of the event itself also differ. The details here given are from "Texas Rangers" by A.J. Sowell, and are said to have been supplied by eye-witnesses.
[3]The scene of the Parker Massacre is located by some authorities, in Limestone County, somewhat further north. Accounts of the event itself also differ. The details here given are from "Texas Rangers" by A.J. Sowell, and are said to have been supplied by eye-witnesses.
[4]"Texas Rangers," by A.J. Sowell, of Seguin, Tex., 1884.
[4]"Texas Rangers," by A.J. Sowell, of Seguin, Tex., 1884.
[5]The Ranger's boots like those of the cowboy are made with high heels to prevent his foot from slipping through the stirrup. Both the Ranger and the cowboy ride with the stirrup in the middle of the foot, it being safer and also less fatiguing on a long ride, sometimes a distance of a hundred miles between daylight and dark.
[5]The Ranger's boots like those of the cowboy are made with high heels to prevent his foot from slipping through the stirrup. Both the Ranger and the cowboy ride with the stirrup in the middle of the foot, it being safer and also less fatiguing on a long ride, sometimes a distance of a hundred miles between daylight and dark.
XVII
"Captain of Company B, Ranger Force"
CAPTURE OF DAN AND BOB CAMPBELL. RECOMMENDATIONS FOR A RANGER CAPTAIN. GOVERNOR "JIM" HOGG APPOINTS HIS OLD FRIEND ON THE STRENGTH OF THEM
Itwill be seen from the foregoing, and from the chapters already published of these memoirs, that a man like Bill McDonald would be well qualified for Ranger service. Already he had been appointed a special Ranger in Company B., commanded by Captain S.A. McMurray, but his duties as U.S. Deputy Marshal, in No-man's Land and in the Cherokee Strip, had been his chief work. Nevertheless, he had, on occasion, engaged in bandit-hunting in his own State, during this period, either alone or in company with other officials, usually with good results. An instance of this kind was the capture of Dan and Bob Campbell which occurred about the time of his concluding the Cherokee Strip campaign.
With his wife, McDonald was on the way from Quanah to Fort Worth, when, at a switch now known as Iowa Park, they met a special, standing on a sidetrack, waiting for them to pass. It was the sort of train that is made up for an urgent purpose, consisting only of an engine and a single car, and McDonald recognized upon it the sheriff of Wichita Falls, also the marshal and others of a posse, evidently out for action. Upon inquiry, he learned that the Campbell boys, two well-known desperadoes of that time, were believed to be somewhere in the neighborhood, preparing to waylay a train. A good reward had been offered for the Campbells and the sheriff and his men were considerably moved. McDonald asked if they would like his assistance, and being assured that they would, sent word back to his wife by the conductor of the down train that he was going to catch some bad men, and boarding the special already impatient to start, took the back track toward Burke, a small station where the outlaws had been seen. When they reached there, it was McDonald's wish to procure horses and begin the search at that point, but the sheriff and his posse thought better to proceed to Harrold, some twenty miles further along, in which direction it was supposed the bandits had traveled.
Leaving word at Burke that they were to be notified in case of any fresh discoveries, the officers again boarded the special, and upon arriving at Harrold found a telegram that the outlaws had been seen entering a thicket not far from Burke. Horses, and a freight car in which to load them, were immediately secured, and the train was backed to Burke. Here the officials separated, the sheriff directing McDonald and the guide who had located the burglars, with a man selected from the posse, to go in onedirection, while the sheriff with the remainder of the posse, took another course; the general plan being to round in on the thicket where the outlaws were supposed to be concealed. Arriving near the place, Deputy McDonald and the two men with him discovered two horses hitched in the brush—undoubtedly the mounts of the two Campbells. It was certain now that the quarry was near by, and the three men waited a little for the sheriff and his party to come up. It became evident, however, that their tactics were of a different sort. The posse was scattering out as if they were deer-hunting, taking stands at various distant and semi-distant points, evidently expecting McDonald and his companions to go in and start up the game. McDonald noticed now that his guide was not armed, and was therefore of no further service. Turning to his other companion, he said:
"I don't like this kind of performance. I'm in favor of charging straight in on them."
Illustration: THE CAPTURE OF DAN AND BOB CAMPBELL."He charged straight into the thicket, and suddenly found himself almost on top of them."
His companion seemed to agree to this plan, and without further word Deputy Bill put spurs to his horse, charged straight into the thicket, and suddenly found himself almost on top of Dan and Bob Campbell. Without a breath of hesitation, he leaped to the ground, leveled at the former, who was already in the act of shooting, and commanded him to drop his gun. The order was obeyed; but Bob Campbell, who would seem to have been asleep, reached for his six-shooter, and though commandednot to touch it upon penalty of death, paid small attention to that order. He did not attempt to fire the weapon, but lay there on the ground with it raised, defying his would-be captor with language that was both violent and uncomplimentary. McDonald now suddenly realized that he was alone; that his companion had failed to join in the charge. Bob Campbell realized this too, and became momentarily more defiant. Then, all at once, help arrived. A dentist who had joined the sheriff's posse, had observed Deputy McDonald's single-handed charge, and now came bravely to his assistance. The Campbells both surrendered, then, for the posse was not far behind. They were taken to Wichita Falls, where the sheriff promptly claimed credit for the capture—also, the reward. Later, the Campbells broke jail, but were eventually recaptured, and served a long sentence.
Events of this sort kept Bill McDonald's name fresh in the Texas mind, and made him seem peculiarly eligible for regular service. The resignation of Captain S.A. McMurray, who had long and bravely commanded Company B became his opportunity, and he hurried to Austin to try for that command.
His old friend, James Hogg, was now governor of the State. Since the settlement of their differences so long before, there had been no discord of any kind, and each had admired the other's career, proud to remember the friendship. Arriving at the capital,McDonald was shown into the governor's room. Greeting him, he said:
"Well, I hardly know what to call you, since you got to be governor. I don't know whether to call you 'Jim' or 'Mister.' I'll have to call you 'Governor,' I guess, as I want to get a place."
They shook hands cordially. Governor Hogg said:
"What is it, Bill? What can I do for you?"
"Why," said McDonald, "I came down to get to be Ranger Captain—to take McMurray's place in Company B."
Hogg looked at him reprovingly.
"Why didn't you let me know sooner?" he said. "There are two other applications for the place; both from good men, with long petitions and fine endorsements."
The applicant for position forgot his old friend's title.
"Why, Jim," he said, "I never thought of it until a day or two ago. I didn't have time to get endorsements, but I can get 'em, if you want them. I have been working mostly in No-man's Land and the Territory lately, but have done work in Texas too, and I can get about any kind of endorsement you want."
Hogg laughed. He had a robust sense of humor.
"By gatlins!" he said, using his favorite expression. "That's all right, Bill, you have already got the best endorsement I ever saw."
McDonald looked puzzled.
"I don't understand," he said, "I didn't know anybody knew I wanted a place."
"All the same, you have got the endorsements," insisted Hogg.
He turned to his desk, and got out a bundle of letters.
"Look over these," he said. "You probably know some of the writers."
McDonald took the letters, and read them one after another. They were from well-known criminals, their lawyers, their friends and their associates. They had been received by Hogg while he was attorney-general, and each was a protest and a complaint against McDonald, declaring him to be a ruthless and tyrannical official, whose chief recreation was hounding good citizens for the sake of revenge or glory, enforcing laws that were not on the statute books, adding that it was not unusual for him to put the said citizen in jail, or in box-cars, declaring further that he sometimes hitched them to posts with chains, and that he was a menace to legitimate settlement and society in general.
McDonald looked over some of these documents, and grinned.
"That's so, Jim," he said, "I do put 'em in box-cars when there ain't a jail; the way I used to do back in Mineola—you recollect, when the jail was full—and I lariat 'em out with a chain and a post when there ain't a box-car handy; but I don't reckon they're innocent."
Hogg nodded.
"By gatlins! Those endorsements are good enough for me," he said. "They carry the flavor of conviction, I appoint you Ranger Captain on the strength of them."
McDonald returned to Quanah with his appointment as captain of "Company B, Frontier Battalion." The headquarters of the company were then at Amarillo, in the southern part of Potter County, near the Randall County line. This was almost the exact center of the Pan-handle, and in a locality sparsely settled, untamed, and lawless.
Since the early days of "Ranging" there had been not much change in Ranger regulations and equipment. The character of the work, however, had changed and the force had been reduced in numbers. Company B now consisted of only eight members all told. These were supposed to range over all that vast section known as the Pan-handle, and were subject to orders that might take them to any other portion of the State where their assistance was needed. The Rangers were peace-officers, their duty being to assist the local officers, rather than to take the initiative and predominate.[6]In the Pan-handle, however, and in many other portions of the State, the Rangers were obliged to lead, for the reason that the local officers were either incapable, indifferent, or incriminated, as we have already seen.
The Ranger camp at Amarillo—besides the eight men mentioned—consisted of tents, furnished by the State, a wagon and mule team, a hack, and two pack-mules. Each Ranger furnished his own horse and arms; the State paid for food and ammunition, also for transportation when necessary. In Company B were enrolled Sergeants J.M. Brittain and W.J. Sullivan; Privates John and Tom Platt, Jim Green, John Bracken and John Bishop; also somewhat later, W.J. McCauley—McDonald's nephew—a daring youth—then about eighteen years old, but a natural plainsman, dashing and fearless; an ideal Ranger.
Expeditions were always made with horses. When the distance was far, the horses and pack-mules were shipped to the nearest railway-point, sometimes by special train; an engine and car being secured for such excursions. This train would stop at any point required; the horses and pack-mules were jumped from the door of the car to the ground—sometimes a distance of several feet—and when the point of attack was close by, this wild little army would sweep across the prairie or through the bushes; the pack-mules, loaded with cooking utensils and tinware, often clattering ahead—riderless, but seeming to know by instinct where to go—braying, with tail in air, constituting an advance guard of reform. It would seem that such a charge might have given the alarm and frightened every outlaw within a radius of several miles; but as a matter of fact, thesecharges were generally planned and undertaken with great secrecy, and the sudden clamor of such an approach was likely to create an amazement which did not subside to the point of action before the time for escape had slipped by. Speaking of it afterwards, Captain McDonald said:
"That infernal racket seemed to jar the nerve of a criminal, for I never knew a pack-mule charge where the men we wanted seemed to have either spunk enough to put up a good fight or sense enough to get away."
FOOTNOTES:[6]This came into dispute somewhat later and the Twenty-seventh Legislature passed an Act confirming what had always been their custom.
FOOTNOTES:
[6]This came into dispute somewhat later and the Twenty-seventh Legislature passed an Act confirming what had always been their custom.
[6]This came into dispute somewhat later and the Twenty-seventh Legislature passed an Act confirming what had always been their custom.
XVIII
An Exciting Indian Campaign
FIRST SERVICE AS RANGER CAPTAIN. BIGGEST INDIAN SCARE ON RECORD
Itwas in January, 1891, that Bill McDonald received his appointment as Ranger Captain, and his first official service was not long delayed. He arrived at Amarillo about midnight, and was received with congratulations, for the news had traveled ahead of him. He was tired, however, and the hour was late, so he presently slipped away to bed. He had hardly fallen asleep when he was rudely awakened and handed a telegram which stated that the Indians had made a raid across the border, and were killing and robbing in Hall County, near Salisbury.
Captain McDonald read the telegram and laughed. There had been no Indian troubles in Texas for a number of years. White renegades there were in plenty, but Indian outbreaks had long since ceased.
"I guess the boys are trying to have some fun with me on my first night," he said, and turned in once more to sleep. But a few minutes later another telegram came; and another; this time from the superintendent of the railroad company—a Mr. Good, whom McDonald knew as a man not given to practical joking.
The Ranger Captain dressed himself, hurried over to the telegraph office and got the operator there to talk over the wire to the operator where the scare had originated. He learned that it seemed to be genuine, and that everybody was leaving the neighborhood. The operator at Salisbury ended his information with "Good-by, I'm going now myself."
Captain Bill still could not believe it a genuine Indian incursion. Hall County was in the second tier from the Territory line, and the Indians would have had to cross Childress County to get to it. He did not believe that they would undertake to do this, or that they could have accomplished it without previous alarms. Still, it was his duty to investigate. He got a special train; loaded in men, horses and pack-mules, and set out on a hunt for Indians. It was about a hundred miles to Salisbury, and they reached there early in the day. Not a soul was in sight anywhere. The inhabitants were hidden, some in dug-outs, some in haystacks, some in the tall grass. Here and there, as the train pulled in, McDonald saw a head stick out from a sod house far out on the prairie, then suddenly disappear, like a prairie-dog dropping into his hole. He set out to interview some of these wary settlers, and learned that the Indian alarm had been given by a man—a new settler just arrived in the country—who had ridden his horse to death and lost one of his children—having left him far behind somewhere—in his wild eagerness to escape the savages who, he declared,were burning and scalping not far away. Captain Bill found this man, and after a little talk with him was convinced that what he had seen was nothing more nor less than some cowboys on a round-up, disporting themselves around their campfire at night, as cowboys will—dancing and capering in the mad manner of young plainsmen whose ideas of amusement are elemental, and whose opportunities for social diversions are few. The man and the neighborhood, however, remained unconvinced, so it was decided to visit the scene of the disturbance.
Horses, men and pack-mules unloaded themselves from the freight car, and went racing over the prairie; the pack-mules, as usual, plunging and braying with tail in air, their tinware clattering in a manner calculated to put a whole tribe of Indians into a panic and send them capering across the eastern horizon into their own domain. But there were no Indians. It was as Captain Bill had thought; a gang of cowboys, the evening before, had rounded up some cattle; killed a beef; carried it to their camp near by, where they had built a great fire and roasted it, doing a wild war-dance of celebration, and shooting off their six-shooters in their prodigal expression of joy. Viewed from a little distance, through a sort of mirage condition which had exaggerated the whole effect, the scene to the newcomers was a horrifying picture of savages about a burning home, with the inhabitants fleeing for their lives.
The man who had just moved in had stampeded for his own safety and started a general alarm, which did not subside even when the cowboys themselves came in and testified to the truth. The panic spread throughout that section of the country and other reports of Indian outbreaks were circulated, becoming magnified until it was believed that the Indians had broken out, and were making a general raid on the Pan-handle. The inhabitants of one town, south of Amarillo, threw up breastworks, got behind them, and put out pickets in preparation for the arrival of the Indians. Every man seen loping across the prairie was reported as an Indian; and all this happened as late as 1891, when there had been no Indian outbreaks for years, and when there was scarcely a possibility of anything of the sort. It was a big joke, of course, afterward, but it seemed no joke at the time, and it was Bill McDonald's initiation as Captain of Company B.
XIX
A Bit of Farming and Politics
CAPTAIN BILL AND HIS GOATS. THE "CAR-SHED" CONVENTION
Therewere to be plenty of real alarms soon enough, with plenty of desperately hard work. Before taking up this part of the story, however, it may not be out of place to dwell briefly on certain other labors and interests incident to this period in Captain McDonald's career.
The ranch on Wanderer's Creek, conducted for the most part by his plucky wife, remained one of his possessions and in time became not unprofitable. McDonald was one of the first to break land in that section and when he put in a sowing of wheat it was thought that he had gone daft. But the following year when the plowed land turned off a crop of from twenty to thirty bushels to the acre, those who had been first to scoff were likewise the earliest to imitate.
Captain Bill now became chief promoter in a plan for the irrigation of this fruitful soil—the water to be obtained by damming Wanderer's Creek. Several years later, two men of influence and substance, Cecil Lyon and Joseph Rice, gave able support to this project with the result that thousands of acresof grazing land became fertile farms—the cowman's domain passing into the hands of tillers of the soil. The town of Quanah reflected the steady agricultural increase, and what had been an antelope range when McDonald and his wife first drove their herds to that region, became a bustling city—in due time law-abiding—with a population steadily increasing to this day.
The mention of the McDonald herds opens a way here for recording an incident connected with the stocking of the Wanderer's Creek range. McDonald and his wife had decided that they would raise goats as a sort of by-product and began business in this line by introducing a flock of considerable size. However, it was a mistake. The goats were a great nuisance. They would be feeding quietly on the range, when suddenly, without warning, they would be seized with an impulse for violent exercise, and would break away and go racing over the prairie for seven or eight miles, to the brakes of the Pease River, where it was very mountainous and hilly—altogether in accord with a goat's idea of landscape. All the horses on the range were in danger of being run to death chasing goats, getting them together and bringing them back to the range. Finally it got to be a regular occupation, when there was nothing else to do, to head for the Pease River and chase goats. One of the men came in one morning when Captain Bill happened to be at home, and asked:
"Well, Cap, what shall I do to-day?"
"Oh, I don't know. Go chase goats, I reckon."
"All right; but if you want me to do that, you'll have to get you some goats. I rode all my horses down a couple o' days ago, hunting for them in the brakes, and there ain't a goat to be found within forty miles.
"D——n the goats," said Captain Bill, "I don't care much for goats, anyhow."
There had been about two hundred of them, and for several years afterward, hunters from other States in these wilds used to bring down "mountain sheep" and "antelope," which bore strong resemblance to the flocks which had once been Captain Bill's.
It was not long after McDonald's appointment as Ranger Captain that the State political campaign came on. He had never lost his interest in politics since the first awakening in the old Mineola days, when he and Jim Hogg had been ranged against each other, ready to shed blood for their candidates. Now, Hogg was governor and a candidate for reëlection, with Bill McDonald ready to show what he could do in the way of gratitude for favors past and present. The convention for the nomination of the State officials was to be held at Houston, and there was a good deal of excitement, as the opposition was likely to be strong, with nominations closely contested. McDonald resolved to be on hand and ready for any condition or emergency. Arriving in Houston he learned upon investigation thatthe supporters of Hogg's opponent, George Clark of Waco, had laid a plan to pack the convention with Clark's friends; to occupy it so fully in fact, that it would be impossible for the regular delegates to get seats. This would make it necessary for them to meet elsewhere, and would cause them to be regarded as bolters from the regular convention. Upon satisfying himself that this was to be the program, Captain McDonald promptly went to his old friend and other leaders, and proposed to take charge of matters. As Captain of the Rangers, he was under the Governor's orders, and with Hogg's sanction he could use his own methods for preserving the peace and for the prevention of scrambling and riot.
The convention was to be held in the "car-shed," a very large building, which had been seated for the purpose. It had a wide entrance to admit cars, and it could easily have been filled and crowded by a mob. Captain Bill's plan was to put a good capable fence across this wide opening, leaving a narrow passageway for a gate, which would be completely guarded. No one unable to show credentials as a delegate would be permitted to enter until the delegates were in and seated.
Governor Hogg approved of the idea and issued an order accordingly. There was no delay in carrying it out. Captain Bill got some men together, worked all night, and by sunrise the wide gateway of the car-shed had been narrowed down to the littlewicket-gate of official admission. It was a complete surprise to the opposition. The gang that had arranged to rush and pack the convention, regarded the barrier and the men delegated to defend it, with amazement and profanity. They began with epithets, and these they followed with more tangible missiles, such as umbrellas, old shoes, and handbags. In another part of the State they might have attempted the use of more effective ammunition. As it was, they were obliged to confine themselves to protests more spectacular than effectual. The regular delegates filed in and were seated. Then the crowds were permitted to enter in the usual way, whereupon another convention was immediately organized in the same hall, with another chairman on the same platform, and for a time two conventions were running side by side.
Captain McDonald was finally called to the platform to preserve order. There was a lively scene. The Ranger was kept busy keeping the two factions separate, taking away their knives, a few pistols, canes, umbrellas and such other weapons and missiles as they attempted to bring into action. The final result was that both Clark and Hogg were nominated, at the same time, in the same convention, and by the same political party, though the Clark followers were styled "Anti-Democrats" and bolters.
Hogg was re-elected in due time, by a good majority. The episode passed into history as the "Car-shed" Convention.
XX
Taming the Pan-handle
THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN COWBOYS AND "BAD MEN." HOW CAPTAIN BILL MADE COW-STEALING UNPOPULAR
TheTexas Pan-handle is that portion of the State which lies directly south of what was No-man's Land, extending from parallels 100 to 103, east and west. Its shape suggests its name, and its name suggests limitless areas of waving grass; vast roving herds; cowboys and ponies—both of the unbridled variety; bad men whose chief business was to start graveyards, and the glad primeval lawlessness that prevails when worlds are new.
Not so many years ago the Pan-handle was distinctly a world apart, and a new one. With No-man's Land on the north, Indian Territory on the east and New Mexico on the west, civilization could come only from the south, and it did not come very fast. Indeed there was still plenty of territory to the southward to be subdued—two or three tiers of counties in fact—before the Pan-handle would be reached. So, it was a place apart—an isolated fertile land, justifying the assertion of a tramp that he had lost a hundred thousand dollars there in one year by not having cattle to eat up the grass.
The cattle came in due time, fighting back theApache and the Comanche, protected by Rangers from Ft. Griffin, accompanied by stockmen of every nation, cowboys of every grade and criminals of every breed. That was a wild epoch—chaotic and picturesque—a time of individual administration and untempered justice.
It was also a time of mighty domain. Ranches there were as big as some kingdoms. One, the X.I.T., covered a good portion of the northern part of the Pan-handle. Another, the Matador, spread itself into five counties. When settlement became thicker—when there were ranch-houses not more than twenty-five to thirty miles apart—official allotment of the lands was made. Then there was a grand gobble. The big stockmen fenced everything with little regard for boundaries and less for the law.
With such examples as these in high places, it is not strange that a general indifference for legal rights and possessions prevailed. Next to cattle raising, cattle-stealing was the chief industry. The cowboy proper was not concerned in such work. He was likely to be a clean-handed, straightforward, even if reckless, individual, honest according to his lights. True, loyalty to his employer might render him a trifle indifferent as to brands and marks when strays mixed with the herd, but it was the employer and not the cowboy who profited by such laxity. The cowboy was a retainer who would fight for his ranch, would die for it when circumstances seemedto require such a sacrifice, and the increase of the ranch herd by any means short of actual raid and theft was a custom which bore no relation to disrepute. But individually the cowboy was likely to be the soul of honor and good-nature, troublesome only on holidays when he was moved to ride into the nearest settlement, drink up all the whisky he could buy, and then, with six-shooter drawn, go careering up and down the streets, shooting in random directions, explaining meantime with noisy and repetitious adjectives, that he was a bad man—a very bad man from very far up the Creek.
On such inspired occasions he would sometimes exclaim:
"Hide out little ones! Dad's come home drunk!" after which he would let go a round of ammunition and the inhabitants of that neighborhood, regardless of size, would proceed to hide out, as admonished. Sometimes a whole group of cowboys would engage in this pastime, whereupon the rest of the town disappeared and sat in cellars or flattened themselves under beds until the cyclone passed by.
It was in such manner that the cowboy found relaxations and social joy. He was not a bad man, in spite of his declaration. He was not really hunting for trouble and would be the last to kill, without offense.[7]
The truly bad man was of entirely different make-up. Always posing, and sometimes accepted, as aman of valor, he was in nearly every case merely a boaster and a coward. He would kill when he got the drop on his man, and he built his reputation upon such murders. He passed as a cowboy, when he was merely a cow-thief; as a hero, when he was only an assassin. Driven into a corner he would fight, but his favorite method was to slay from ambush. It was seldom that his reckless disregard for human life included his own.
The Pan-handle was full of bad men in the early nineties. Most of them had graduated from other schools of crime and found here a last resort. Some of them—a good many of them—had obtained official positions and were outlaws and deputies by turns, or worked conjunctively as both. As a rule they were in one way and another associated with a gang.
Local authorities, even when conscientious, were poorly equipped to cope with such an element, and it was for Company B, Ranger Force, consisting of eight men with quarters at Amarillo, Captain W.J. McDonald commanding, to police this vast wilderness, and to capture and convert, or otherwise tame, its undesirable citizens.
Some of them would not wait to be captured; some, of course, could not be tamed alive. Others, and these were not a few, would be able to wield official influence through which they would escape conviction, regardless of the evidence.
Soon after McDonald's appointment he was notified of a marauding band that across in HutchinsonCounty were committing the usual crimes. They had burned the hay belonging to a ranchman on Turkey Creek—several hundred tons in quantity—they had cut his wire fences; they had killed cows for their calves, butchered beef cattle, cut out brands—in a word they had conducted the business of cattle-stealing and general depredation on a large scale.
Taking a portion of his force, Captain McDonald went over to investigate. There seemed to be a good deal of mystery concerning the identity of the offenders; but a mystery of that sort does not stand a very good chance when it is operated upon by a man with eyes like those of Captain Bill and with a nose and pair of ears of his peculiar pattern. In a short time he had identified one member of the band in a young man prominently connected in that section. This young fellow—a dupe, no doubt, of professional cow-thieves, whose glittering reputation as bad men had dazzled him—was the son of an able and reputable lawyer, a member of the State legislature. The son, supposed to be a cowboy, had become in reality an outlaw.
Captain McDonald took him in charge one day, questioned him and secured sufficient evidence to file a complaint. The prisoner was turned over to the sheriff of Hutchinson County, and Captain Bill pursued his investigation. He located a bunch of stolen calves, herded in the brakes of the Canadian River, guarded by another member of the gang. He brought a man who had lost a number of milk cowsand calves to identify the calves; no very difficult matter, for the man declared that he knew them as well as he knew his own children. The cows had been killed for their calves—and the latter had been "hobbled and necked." After locating the calves, Captain McDonald investigated the canyons and after several days found the cows that had been shot and killed. One after another the missing bunches of cattle were located, and the members of the band were brought in, and lodged in jail. The case against them was clear. They were found with the stolen property; some of them did not even attempt to make denial. Their examining trial was held at Plemons, the county seat of Hutchinson County, and the settlers gathered from far and near for the event. The trial was held in a big barn of a court house, and the prisoners were bound over to the district court. The Rangers were preparing to take them to Pan-handle City, where there were safer and more commodious quarters, when the sheriff—who had already distinguished himself by setting free the prominent young outlaw first captured—appeared and demanded the prisoners, on the ground that being sheriff of that county, they could not be removed without his consent. The Ranger Captain promptly informed him that, sheriff or no sheriff, he had shown his disqualifications for office, and that these prisoners would be taken to more secure quarters than he seemed willing to provide. The officer departed, and presently mustered a crowd, armed with Winchesters. Then he appeared once more before Captain Bill, produced the law which under proper conditions might have supported him in his demand, and again declared that he would have those prisoners, or that there would be bloodshed and several Ranger funerals. Captain Bill promptly called his men together.
"We are not going to stand any foolishness," he said. "If an attempt is made to take these prisoners, cut down on any one who takes a hand in it. Come, let's move on now, and get these men in jail."
The crowd that had gathered expected battle, then and there, but nothing of the kind took place. The sheriff's armed bluff had been called. Later, he obtained a writ of habeas corpus, but it was not effective for the reason that the men had been committed under bond. At all events it was not effective so long as McDonald and his Rangers were in charge of the jail.
It was now evident that conviction of these offenders was not to be expected in that county. Most of them had official influence of one kind or another. In fact, there appeared to be nobody except those whose property had suffered who seemed concerned in bringing these bandits to justice.
With such overwhelming evidence McDonald was determined, if possible, to secure their punishment. He kept them in jail several months and eventually was instrumental in getting their cases distributed and sent to other counties for trial. Even so, theymanaged to evade the law. Through influence of one kind or another, and the coöperation of officials—former associates, perhaps, in the business of crime—their cases were one by one dismissed.
In spite of this miscarriage of justice, the general effect of McDonald's vigorous prosecution was wholesome. The members of that band either left for the far isolations, or decided to reform. The case is given, one of many such, as an example of what the honest official had to contend with in the early Pan-handle days. Sometimes, indeed, justice was even more openly and briskly side-tracked. Once, when Captain Bill had caught a notorious cattle-thief, red-handed; brought him to trial and secured his conviction by jury; the judge, instead of passing sentence, took the law wholly into his own hands, and administered it in a manner rather startling for its unexpectedness and originality. He delivered an elaborate oration, which no one in the court room comprehended in any large degree—himself included, perhaps—and then read a lengthy decision concerning captures made upon the high seas; closing with his own decision to the effect that the clause covered this particular case as perfectly as if it had been made for it, and that the entire proceedings were irregular, irrelevant, without warrant and without effect; concluding his amazing declaration with the statement that the prisoner was discharged.
Cases like these would have discouraged and disgruntled a man of less resolution and character than Bill McDonald. To him such things meant only renewed determination. Strong in the knowledge that unless he happened to be killed he would eventually make criminals scarce, and corrupt or weak-kneed officials unpopular in that section, he gave neither rest nor respite to those who broke the law in the field, or to those who warped and disfigured it in the courts. Individually and in groups he brought the bad men in and filled the jails with them, and the box-cars, and when neither was handy he lariated them out, set a guard, and rode off after more. When he failed to convict in one court he tried another, and when he found an honest official he kept him busy. In a recent letter written by Col. W.B. Camp of San Antonio, to Edward M. House, one of the best known citizens of Texas, the writer says:
"When he (Captain McDonald) was captain of the Rangers in Texas, and doing his most effective work, I was District Attorney of the Thirty-fifth Judicial District, in the Pan-handle, and I learned to love, respect and admire this fearless officer, who always placed duty before his own life. In those days on the frontier of Texas, it was almost worth a man's life to uphold the majesty of the law, and the five years of such experience I had in doing so teaches me the value of such men as Captain BillMcDonald. History should hand down his name for the coming generations by the side of the heroes of the Alamo and San Jacinto."[8]
FOOTNOTES:[7]"The Kansas City Journal" recently printed the following cowboy song, with comments, offering it as a side-light on cowboy life and character. The Journal said:"The night guards of cattle or horse herds were wont to sing to their charges as they slowly rode round and round them, keeping watch. If the cattle stampeded, and were then brought together again and began moving in a circle, which the punchers called 'milling,' and on all occasions of fear or uneasiness among the stock, the boys sang to them, and it had a quieting effect. These night riders were perfect horsemen and seasoned to the trail and range. Their hours were endless; the calls upon them for endurance were almost beyond human strength. Picture a night on a lonely prairie, wild, disconcerting, horse elements, a stampede among half-wild cattle, and it is not hard to know the task that the cowboy confronted. It is something fine to think that in such hours of danger the cattle could be 'crooned' back to normal quiet. Out of such occasions were the cowboy songs born." Then follow the words ofThe Dim and Narrow Way."Last night as I lay on the prairie,Looking up at the stars in the sky,I wondered if ever a cowboyWould go to that sweet by and by;I wondered if ever a cowboyWould go to that sweet by and by.The trail to that fair mystic regionIs narrow and dim so they say,While the broad road that leads to perditionIs posted and blazed all the way;While the broad road that leads to perditionIs posted and blazed all the way.They say there will be a grand round-up,Where cowboys like cattle must stand,To be cut out by riders of judgment,Who are posted and know every brand;To be cut out by riders of judgment,Who are posted and know every brand.Perhaps there will be a stray cowboy,Unbranded by anyone nigh,Who'll be cut out by riders of judgmentAnd shipped to the sweet by and by;Who'll be cut out by riders of judgmentAnd shipped to the sweet by and by."[8]That Captain McDonald and his little force had the entire supervision of that vast district is shown by Adjutant-General Maby's report for 1896. See Appendix A.
FOOTNOTES:
[7]"The Kansas City Journal" recently printed the following cowboy song, with comments, offering it as a side-light on cowboy life and character. The Journal said:"The night guards of cattle or horse herds were wont to sing to their charges as they slowly rode round and round them, keeping watch. If the cattle stampeded, and were then brought together again and began moving in a circle, which the punchers called 'milling,' and on all occasions of fear or uneasiness among the stock, the boys sang to them, and it had a quieting effect. These night riders were perfect horsemen and seasoned to the trail and range. Their hours were endless; the calls upon them for endurance were almost beyond human strength. Picture a night on a lonely prairie, wild, disconcerting, horse elements, a stampede among half-wild cattle, and it is not hard to know the task that the cowboy confronted. It is something fine to think that in such hours of danger the cattle could be 'crooned' back to normal quiet. Out of such occasions were the cowboy songs born." Then follow the words ofThe Dim and Narrow Way."Last night as I lay on the prairie,Looking up at the stars in the sky,I wondered if ever a cowboyWould go to that sweet by and by;I wondered if ever a cowboyWould go to that sweet by and by.The trail to that fair mystic regionIs narrow and dim so they say,While the broad road that leads to perditionIs posted and blazed all the way;While the broad road that leads to perditionIs posted and blazed all the way.They say there will be a grand round-up,Where cowboys like cattle must stand,To be cut out by riders of judgment,Who are posted and know every brand;To be cut out by riders of judgment,Who are posted and know every brand.Perhaps there will be a stray cowboy,Unbranded by anyone nigh,Who'll be cut out by riders of judgmentAnd shipped to the sweet by and by;Who'll be cut out by riders of judgmentAnd shipped to the sweet by and by."
[7]"The Kansas City Journal" recently printed the following cowboy song, with comments, offering it as a side-light on cowboy life and character. The Journal said:
"The night guards of cattle or horse herds were wont to sing to their charges as they slowly rode round and round them, keeping watch. If the cattle stampeded, and were then brought together again and began moving in a circle, which the punchers called 'milling,' and on all occasions of fear or uneasiness among the stock, the boys sang to them, and it had a quieting effect. These night riders were perfect horsemen and seasoned to the trail and range. Their hours were endless; the calls upon them for endurance were almost beyond human strength. Picture a night on a lonely prairie, wild, disconcerting, horse elements, a stampede among half-wild cattle, and it is not hard to know the task that the cowboy confronted. It is something fine to think that in such hours of danger the cattle could be 'crooned' back to normal quiet. Out of such occasions were the cowboy songs born." Then follow the words of
The Dim and Narrow Way.
"Last night as I lay on the prairie,Looking up at the stars in the sky,I wondered if ever a cowboyWould go to that sweet by and by;I wondered if ever a cowboyWould go to that sweet by and by.The trail to that fair mystic regionIs narrow and dim so they say,While the broad road that leads to perditionIs posted and blazed all the way;While the broad road that leads to perditionIs posted and blazed all the way.They say there will be a grand round-up,Where cowboys like cattle must stand,To be cut out by riders of judgment,Who are posted and know every brand;To be cut out by riders of judgment,Who are posted and know every brand.Perhaps there will be a stray cowboy,Unbranded by anyone nigh,Who'll be cut out by riders of judgmentAnd shipped to the sweet by and by;Who'll be cut out by riders of judgmentAnd shipped to the sweet by and by."
[8]That Captain McDonald and his little force had the entire supervision of that vast district is shown by Adjutant-General Maby's report for 1896. See Appendix A.
[8]That Captain McDonald and his little force had the entire supervision of that vast district is shown by Adjutant-General Maby's report for 1896. See Appendix A.
XXI
The Battle with Matthews
WHAT HAPPENED TO A MAN WHO HAD DECIDED TO KILL BILL MCDONALD
Itwas strange, indeed, that McDonald did not "happen to get killed" in those busy days of the early nineties. One of the favorite vows of tough "pan-handlers" was to shoot Bill McDonald on sight. But the reader will remember that there was a suddenness and vigor about Bill McDonald's manner and method that was very bad for a vow like that when the moment for its execution arrived. Still, there were those who tried to make good, and one of these, duly assisted, came near being successful. He would have succeeded, no doubt, if he had had time.
This man's name was John Pierce Matthews, which became simply John Pierce after its owner had got the drop on a steamboat captain one day in Louisiana and shot him dead. He took the new name with him to the Pan-handle, where in due time he got the drop on another man, somewhere up in the northern tier of counties, with the same result. This was a good while before he came down to Childress County and got to be sheriff, but there were those who had not forgotten, and among them wasCaptain Bill McDonald, then stopping at Wichita Falls. Matthews, or Pierce, as he was called, frequently came down to the Falls for a spree, and on one such visit made application to join a secret society. McDonald was a prominent member of that society and Matthews did not get in. This stirred the animosity of Matthews, and he began to clean his six-shooter daily and to practise sudden and accurate firing, which he knew would be necessary in case of a show-down.
By and by there was a sheriff's convention at Houston, and on a boat excursion between Houston and Galveston, Matthews spoke disrespectfully to Governor Hogg, who was on board. McDonald, who was also present, promptly called Matthews to account, and a general settlement might have been reached then and there had well-meaning, but misguided friends of both parties not interfered, and spoiled a very pretty sheriff's-picnic newspaper story. As it was, Matthews kept on oiling his pistol and practising, meantime enlisting the sympathy of friends, to whom he confided that some day when he had a little leisure he was going to look up Bill McDonald and kill him, suggesting that they be present and take a hand;theybeing of the sort naturally interested in such an enterprise.
Matthews also had another enemy, one Joe Beckham, sheriff of Motley County, an officer of his own kind, who presently got as short as possible in his accounts, absconded, and set out for Indian Territory. Matthew had no right to go outside of his own county after a fugitive, and no business in this matter, any way, as he wanted Beckham only for a misdemeanor, whereas he was charged in his own county with felony. But Matthews had an itch for Beckham on his own account, so he picked up another enemy of Beckham, named Cook, a citizen of Motley with an ambition for Beckham's office, and the two came with peaceful attitude and fair words to Quanah where Captain Bill was then stopping, requesting the loan of a Ranger to go over into the Territory after the defaulting officer. McDonald refused, but said he would send a man as far as the Territory line—Ranger authority not extending beyond that border. He did send one Ranger McClure, who being strongly persuaded, overstepped, at the same instant, his authority and the State line; captured Beckham, whom he lost through a writ of habeas corpus; fell into a plot devised by Matthews and Cook to get rid of him, and was finally brought back to Quanah by Captain Bill, who drove a hundred miles on a bad night to get him out of the mess; after which McClure was a wiser and better Ranger.
Beckham, meanwhile, had fallen a victim to remorse, or more likely had been promised immunity, and now hurried over to Quanah and gave himself up again to Ranger McClure, Captain Bill being absent from Quanah at the time. Beckham asked to be taken to Matador, county seat of Motley, for trial, and begged McClure to see him through Childress, where he expected to be killed by Matthews and Cook.
McClure assured Beckham that he would see him safely to Matador, and they set out by rail for Childress, at which point they would take a team for the Motley county seat.
Matthews was on hand at Childress. He demanded Beckham of McClure, who refused to deliver his prisoner. Matthews then started to organize a posse to take Beckham. Word of this came to McClure who promptly gave his prisoner a revolver and told him to help defend himself. Matthews and his crowd now tried to enlist the co-operation of Sheriff Cunningham of Abilene who, as soon as he understood the situation, resigned from the Matthews force and offered to assist the McClure contingent. McClure thanked him, but said he guessed he'd go along to Matador, now, with his prisoner, as the team was waiting. Captain Bill was in Matador when Ranger and prisoner arrived, and Beckham was jailed without further difficulty. Cook got appointed sheriff, by the Commissioners' Court, but the District Judge refused to accept him and selected a man named Moses for the job, whereupon Cook refused to resign and Captain Bill was sent over to turn him out, which he did with promptness and vigor. On his way back to Quanah, waiting for a train in Childress, Matthews appeared and demanded that McDonald dismiss Ranger McClure on general charges connected with the Beckham episode. McDonald mildly but firmly refused and spoke his mind pretty freely on the subject. All of which added fuel to the old resentment which Matthews nursed and nourished in his bosom for Captain Bill.
If Matthews wanted to commit suicide he began preparing for it, now, in the right way. He gave it out openly that he was going to wander over to Quanah some day and kill Bill McDonald, just as a matter of pastime, and he sent word to the same effect by any of Captain Bill's friends that he found going that way. Perhaps he thought these messages of impending death would unnerve the Ranger Captain and interfere with his sleep. That was bad judgment. Bill McDonald needed only the anticipation of a little pistol practice like that to make him sleep like an angel child.
"I didn't talk as loud as he did—nor as much," Captain Bill said afterward. "I reckon he thought I was afraid of him."
Matthews had really cut the work out for himself, however, and had enlisted help for the occasion. He was satisfied with his target practice and the condition of his fire-arms, and he had taken to wearing a plug of tobacco or a Bible or something solid like that in the coat-pocket just over his heart, about where one of Bill McDonald's bullets would be apt to strike, provided the Ranger happened to get a bead on him, though he had planned against that, too.
It was in December, 1895, at last that Matthewsand his pals came down to Quanah for the declared purpose of killing a Ranger Captain. It was a cold, dreary day and they visited one saloon after another, getting a supply of courage for the job and explaining what they were going to do. Then they took to following McDonald, always in a group, evidently waiting the proper opportunity, confident enough that McDonald would not take the offensive. Finally, however, they pressed him so close that he suddenly turned and told them to quit following him or trouble would ensue. Perhaps it did not seem a good place to do the job—there being no sort of protection; perhaps there was something disquieting in the manner of Captain Bill's warning. They dropped away, for the time, and McDonald gave the matter no further thought. Men threatening to kill him was an item on every day's program.
It was nearly dusk of that bleak day, and McDonald was in the railway station, sending an official telegram to his men at Amarillo, when an old man named Crutcher, whom McDonald knew, came in with the word that Matthews wanted to see him and fix up matters without any more trouble.
Captain Bill regarded Crutcher keenly; evidently he was sincere enough.
"John says he wants to see you and fix up everything right," repeated the old man persuasively.
Captain Bill finished writing his telegram and sent it. Then turning to Old Man Crutcher he said in his slow mild way:
"Well, that all sounds mighty good to me. I never want any trouble that I can help. Come on, let's go find him."
They left the depot on the side toward the town, and as they did so they saw the sheriff of Hardeman County, whose name was Dick Coffer, with Matthews and two of the latter's friends, coming to meet them. Sheriff Coffer was a step ahead of Matthews when they started across the street. Old Man Crutcher in a friendly way put his arm through McDonald's as they advanced. When they were but four or five feet between the groups, all stopped and there was a little silence.
Then McDonald said:
"Well?"
And Matthews answered, keeping Coffer just a trifle in advance:
"Well, what is it, Bill?"
Captain Bill began quietly.
"I understand," he said, "that you have been saying some pretty hard things about me, and that you-all are going to wipe up the earth with me. Is that so?"
Matthews edged a trifle nearer to Coffer.
"No," he said, "I didn't say that, but by God I'll tell you what I did say," at the same moment pointing his left index finger in McDonald's face, while his right hand slipped in the direction of his hip pocket.
Captain Bill saw the movement and his own handdropped into his side overcoat pocket where in winter he carried a part of his armament. Matthews' practice in drawing, for some reason failed to benefit him. His gun seemed to hang a little in the scabbard. A second later he had jerked it free and stepping behind Coffer fired at Captain Bill over the sheriff's right shoulder. But the slight hitch spoiled his aim, perhaps, for the bullet missed, passing through McDonald's overcoat collar, though the range was so short that the powder burned his face.
The game could now be considered open. Captain Bill with a quick movement that was between a skip and a step, got around Coffer and let go two shots in quick succession, at Matthews. But the latter's breast-piece was a success. Both of McDonald's bullets struck within the space of a fifty-cent piece, just above Matthews' heart, penetrated a thick plug of Star Navy, found a heavy note-book behind it and stopped.
With a thought process which may be regarded as cool for such a moment, Captain Bill realized that for some reason he could not kill Matthews by shooting him on that side, and shifted his aim. Matthews, meantime, had again dodged behind Coffer, who now dropped flat to the ground, where it was quieter. Captain Bill was bending forward at the time, trying to get a shot around Coffer, and as the latter dropped, Matthews fired, the bullet striking McDonald in the left shoulder, ranging down throughhis lung to the small of his back, traveling two-thirds the length of his body for lodgment.
THE BATTLE WITH MATTHEWS AT QUANAH."He started to cock his gun, when he received another ball in his right shoulder."
The Ranger was knocked backward, but did not fall. Matthews quickly fired again, but McDonald was near enough now to knock the gun aside with his own, and the ball passed through his hat-brim. Aiming at Matthews' other shoulder, McDonald let go his third shot and Matthews fell.
Meantime the two deputy assassins had opened fire, and one of them had sent two bullets through McDonald's left arm. To these he gave no attention until Matthews dropped. Wheeling now he started to cock his gun, when he received another ball, this time in his right shoulder, along which it traveled to his neck, thence around the wind-pipe to the left side. His fingers were paralyzed by this wound and he made an effort to cock his gun with his teeth; but there was no further need, for with the collapse of Matthews his co-murderers fled wildly to cover, behind the depot, nearly upsetting a box-car in their hurry, as a spectator remarked.
Captain Bill walked a few steps to the side-walk. There was a post there, and holding to this he eased himself to a sitting position. A man ran up to him.
"Cap, how about it?"
"Well, I think I'm a dead rabbit."
They gathered him up and took him to a drug-store, and they took Matthews to a drug-store across the street. By and by they carried Captain Bill home and a doctor came to hunt for the bullets.
"Don't fool around with that one in my neck, Doc," Captain Bill said. "Go after the one in the small of my back, and let out the blood. There's a bucket of it sloshin' around in there."
The doctor obeyed orders. It was proper to gratify a dying man.
"Now, Doc," the Ranger Captain said when the operation was over, and the surplus cargo had been removed, "now, I'll get well," and Rhoda McDonald, his nervy wife, who had arrived on the scene, echoed this belief.
"If Bill Jess says he'll get well, he'll do it!" she declared.
But this was a minority opinion, and that night when it was rumored that Captain Bill would not pull through, there were threats that in case he didn't, the two men who had trained with Matthews would be strung up without further notice. Some word of this was brought to Captain Bill, perhaps as a message of comfort.
"Don't you do it, boys," he said. "I'm going to get well, and even if I don't, I want the law to take its course. I'm opposed to lynching."
Matthews died in a few days. He was removed to Childress and died there. Before his death he sent word to McDonald.
"You acted the man all through," was his message. "I'm only sorry that I can't see you and apologize."
"Tell him that I'm doing all right," was theanswer returned, "and that I hope he'll get well."
The mending of Captain Bill was a slow process. For about two months he was laid up, and then with his wife he sojourned for a time at a sanitarium. After that, he was up once more, pale and stooped but ready and eager for action. In time he was apparently as fit as ever; though, in truth, the physical repairing was never quite complete.
XXII
What Happened to Beckham
AN OUTLAW RAID AND A RANGER BATTLE. JOE BECKHAM ENDS HIS CAREER
Meantimethe cause of the final and fatal difference between Matthews and McDonald—Joe Beckham, former sheriff of Motley—was out on bond, disporting himself in picturesque fashion. He got a change of venue, and when his case came up in Baylor County, Cook—his old rival and now his successor, by election—started over to testify; whereupon Beckham met the train and promptly shot Cook dead as he struck the platform. Beckham then mounted a fast horse and cantered away into the Territory, where he joined in organizing a new gang made up of old offenders, with a view to doing a wholesale general business in crime. In this gang were Red Buck, and Hill Loftus, both justly celebrated; also Kid Lewis—later hung. They established headquarters in a neighborhood thought to be comparatively safe, since Bill McDonald's work had been confined to Texas, and opened business with every prospect of reaping the natural reward of perseverance and industry.
They began by making a general raid on what isnow Electra, Texas, where they cleaned out some stores and knocked a storekeeper on the head; after which, they looted a country store and post office, kept by one Al Bailey, then rode away in the direction of their Territory headquarters.
Company B, Ranger Service, was promptly notified, and Captain McDonald, not yet able to undertake a hard chase, sent his nephew McCauley with Jack Harwell and two other Rangers to join the sheriff of Wilbarger County at Electra, in the pursuit. The Rangers quickly struck the trail and had followed forty miles toward the Territory at a hard gait when they spied a dug-out, not far ahead. At the same moment they met an ostensible cowboy—a "line-rider," he said, on his rounds. The dug-out, he told them, was his, and that they would find something to eat there.
The party hurried on in the hope of food and warmth, for with the coming of evening it had grown very cold, and snow was beginning to fall. They were a little surprised to see a light in the dug-out, but pushed on toward it, when suddenly a volley of shots rang out from that cover, and three horses dropped dead. Not one of the riders was injured, and they promptly returned the fire. Then followed a regular exchange of shots which kept up to some extent all that bitter cold, snowy night. When morning came, only McCauley and Harwell of the Ranger Force remained in action, the others having been driven by the cold and storm to find shelter.
The dug-out was silent enough, now, but McCauley and Harwell, nearly dead from exposure, were in no condition to charge it, alone. They were without horses, and set out for Waggoner's ranch twenty-five miles away, afoot. Red River lay between, and when they arrived there the prospect of wading that icy current was miserable enough. Nevertheless, they did it, arriving at Waggoner's ranch, frostbitten and almost dead of hunger. The others had reached there several hours earlier.
When all were in condition again, they returned to investigate the dug-out. The place was deserted. Red Buck (wounded, as they learned later) with Hill Loftus, had been able to get away; also, Kid Lewis, for whom a telephone pole was already waiting at Wichita Falls.
Joe Beckham lay stretched upon the floor, dead.
XXIII
A Medal for Speed
CAPTAIN BILL OUTRUNS A CRIMINAL AND WINS A GOLD MEDAL
Weare not through with the Pan-handle, but we will relate here an incident which belongs outside of that district, though within the period. It seemed always a part of Bill Jess McDonald's peculiar fortunes that wherever he went he found work suited to his hand.
He had been in Fort Worth on official business, in this instance, and boarded the north-bound train just as it was pulling out of the station. As he did so, he noticed two disreputable-looking characters crowding against a well-dressed old gentleman, and an instant later heard the latter exclaim, "I have been robbed!" At the same moment the two toughs started to leap from the car-steps.
Captain Bill's presence of mind responded promptly. His six-shooter was out with small delay, and seizing one of the men, he called to the other to halt. The man detained made an attempt to strike his captor, who promptly "bent" his gun over his head—mildly at first, then with force, bringing the offender to his knees. The Ranger Captain now pulled the bell-cord; brought the train to a standstill; turned his prisoner over to a policeman who had appeared on the scene, and set out in pursuit of the other thief, who by this time had obtained a healthy start.
Captain Bill is built like a greyhound, with long hind legs, and a prow designed for splitting the wind. The thief was active, and making good time, but he was no match for a Ranger of that architecture. The distance between them closed up rapidly, and after a race of over a mile the fugitive, having reached what was known as "Niggertown," dived into one of the houses, causing a regular stampede among the inhabitants. Men, women, and a rabble of little pickaninnies fell out in every direction. Captain Bill, now close behind, added to the excitement as he plunged in, only to find the room vacant. A quilt, however, hung across a second doorway, and stepping over to it, his six-shooter ready for emergency, he drew the hanging quickly aside. As he did so, he was confronted by a man standing on a chair, holding in his hand a bottle filled with some transparent liquid, which he was in the act of throwing. The crack of McDonald's revolver was followed by such a sudden collapse of the would-be vitriol-thrower, that the Ranger Captain thought he had wounded him seriously, though his intention had been merely to disable the arm in action. Investigation showed, however, that the thief was only frightened; that the ball had grazed his arm, also his ear, cutting a hole through the rim of his hat.
Securing the vitriol as evidence, Captain Bill marched his man back to where he had left thief Number One, only to find that the inexperienced policeman had allowed him to escape. He did not trust him with his second capture, but personally saw him safely locked up, and then set out for home by the next train.
Not long after, a package arrived one day in Amarillo, and upon being opened, it was found to contain a handsome gold medal, contributed by a prominent jeweler and others of Fort Worth.
This decoration was engraved with Captain McDonald's name and official title; and an accompanying letter stated that it was awarded as a token of appreciation of his efforts in bringing criminals to justice, and as a premium for his superior swiftness of foot on a mile and a quarter track.
XXIV
Captain Bill in Mexico
MEXICAN THIEVES TRY TO HOLD UP CAPTAIN BILL AND GET A SURPRISE. MEXICAN POLICE MAKE THE SAME ATTEMPT WITH THE SAME RESULT. PRESIDENT DIAZ TRIES TO ENLIST HIM
TheFirst National Bank of Quanah failed in 1893, and one of the head officials, wanted for embezzlement and forgery, made his escape to Mexico, where he was arrested. Governor Hogg immediately made requisition for him, and Captain McDonald was detailed to bring him back across the line. Accompanied by one of the bank directors, McDonald set out for Mexico, only to find that his man had been set free, and was then making his way to remoter hiding. It was no difficult matter, however, to trace him, and the Ranger Captain presently overhauled him and put him in jail, there to await certain red-tape formalities incident to the deliberate Mexican official methods.
Having a good deal of time on his hands, Captain Bill spent it in sight-seeing. It was interesting enough, but he could not understand why he used upso many handkerchiefs. They seemed to disappear from his pockets in some magic way, and no matter how many he set out with, he presently found his supply entirely exhausted. He realized at last that this curious condition was not due altogether to accident, nor to carelessness on his own part. Laying in a fresh stock of handkerchiefs, he strolled warily along, seemingly unconscious of those who loitered near him, apparently absorbed in sight-seeing. Presently, from the corner of his eye, he noticed a Mexican passing near him make a quick movement with his hand, and caught a glimpse of white passing from his pocket to that of the Mexican. His sudden grab so startled this industrious person that he did not even attempt flight. Captain Bill thereupon promptly recovered his handkerchief, which he found had been lifted with a slender wire hook; an effective implement in busy and skilful hands. Without any further preliminaries, he set out for the jail with his prisoner, but meeting an American acquaintance to whom he explained the situation, he was advised to proceed no further with the case.
"If you take him there, they will lock you up with him," he said.
"Well, I guess they won't," said McDonald.
"They certainly will," insisted his friend. "The law here is to confine the witness with the prisoner, and there is no telling when you'll get out."
Captain Bill reconsidered, whirled his prisoner around, gave him an impetuous kick or two, andsome advice, which perhaps reached his comprehension, though in an unknown tongue.
The man fled; it is not known whether he took the advice or not.
Captain Bill's adventures in Mexico were not over. A few nights later he visited a large casino where gambling was conducted openly, and mildly diverted himself by taking a hand at bucking the national game, monte. He played in luck, and the stakes became high. His winnings grew to a considerable sum, and there were greedy eyes in the group who watched his play. When he left the place, at last, and descended the stairway, he noticed that two men seemed to be following him. As he reached the dim hallway below, he stopped; they stopped also.
Captain Bill was pleased. This was a game he preferred even to monte, he had played it so much oftener. He stepped out into the middle of the street, where he would have a clear field of observation, and set out leisurely, as if he had not noticed anything wrong. The men following gained upon him, one dropping a little in the rear, the other working his way to the front. As they reached a dark locality, the man in front began to drop back a little, evidently getting ready to close in, while the one behind stepped up a little more lively, until he was about on a line with Captain Bill, who now noticed him throw back his serape as if to free his arm for action. No longer in doubt as to what they meantto do, the Captain brought out his "forty-five" with a swing that landed the barrel of it with full force on the head of the man in front. Wheeling, he covered the other, who, seeing his companion drop with a thud, promptly fled, the Ranger Captain close behind. They raced down the dim street, and the Mexican, trying to keep his eye on his pursuer and turn a corner at the same time, ran into a stone wall and nearly knocked his head off.