CHAPTER XVI.THE DEER LODGE SCOUT.
The sleuth hound is upon the trail.Nor speed nor force shall aught avail.
Almost instantly after the commencement of the organization of the Vigilance Committee, it was determined that the pursuit of the miscreants—the comrades of Ives—should be commenced and maintained with a relentless earnestness, which should know no abatement until the last blood-stained marauder had paid the penalty of his crimes by death on the gallows; or had escaped the retribution in store for him by successful flight to other countries. Foremost on the list stood Aleck Carter, the accomplice, at any rate, in the murder of Tbalt.
Twenty-four men were mustered, whose equipments consisted of arms, ammunition, and the most modest provision for the wants of the inner man that could possibly be conceived sufficient. The volunteers formed a motley group; but there were men enough among them of unquestioned courage, whom no difficulty could deter and no danger affright. They carried, generally, a pair of revolvers, a rifle or shot-gun, blankets and someROPE. Spirits were forbidden to be used.
The leader of the party was one of those cool, undaunted and hardy men, whose career has been marked by honesty of purpose and fearlessness concerning the consequences of any just or lawful action, and to whom society owes a large debt for perils and hardships voluntarily undergone for the salvation of the lives and property of the people of this Territory, and for the punishment of wrong doers.
On the 23d of December, 1863, the party, on horse and mule-back, went by way of the Stinkingwater, on to the Big Hole, and over the Divide in the main range. The weather was very cold, and there was a large quantity of snow uponthe ground. Fires could not be lighted when wanted at night, for fear of attracting attention. The men leaving their horses under a guard, lay down in their blankets on the snow—the wisest of themINit. As the riders had been taken up from work, without time for the needful preparation in the clothing department, they were but ill prepared to face the stormy and chilling blast, which swept over the hills and valleys crossed by them on this arduous journey. Few know the hardships they encountered. The smiles of an approving conscience are about all, in the shape of a reward, that is likely to be received by any of them for their brilliant services.
On Deer Lodge Creek, the foremost horsemen met Red, (Erastus Yager;) but, being unacquainted with him, all the troop allowed him to pass the different sections of the command as they successively encountered him on the road. Red, who was now acting as letter carrier of the band, was a light and wiry built man, about five feet five inches high, with red hair and red whiskers. On inquiry, he told the officers that he had ascertained that Aleck Carter, Whiskey Bill (Graves,) Bill Bunton, and others of the gang were lying at Cottonwood, drunk; that they had attended a ball given there, and that they had been kicked out of it. A defiance accompanied this account, couched in the following euphonious and elegant strain: “The Stinkingwater —— may come; we’re good for thirty of them.” This most ingenious fable was concocted to put the scouts off their guard and to gain time for the fugitives. The same night the last of the party had crossed the Divide, and camped on Deer Lodge Creek—seventeen miles above Cottonwood, at John Smith’s Ranch.
At this place the men lay over till three o’clock in the afternoon, and then saddling up, rode into Cottonwood to take their prey by surprise. Arriving there, they put up their horses, took their supper, and discovered, both by actual search and the information of chosen parties, that the birds had flown, no one knew whither; though a camp fire far away among the hills was distinctly visible, and evoked from some of the old mountaineers a hearty malediction, fortheir experienced eyes had quickly marked the blaze, and they knew that it meant—escape.
On inquiry, it was found that a message had arrived from Virginia, warning the robbers to “Get up and dust, and lie low for black ducks.” A letter was found afterwards delivered to Tom Reilly and he showed it to the Vigilantes. It was written by Brown, and Red carried it over, travelling with such rapidity as to kill two horses.
Vexed and dispirited, the men started on their return by way of Beaverhead Rock. Here they camped in the willows, without shelter or fire, except such as could be made with the green twigs. On Saturday, it turned cold and snowed heavily, getting worse and worse, until on Sunday the cold became fearful, and the sufferings of the party were intense. Some of the stock stampeded to the canyon, out of the way of the storm. The rest were tied fast in the willows. It was no small job to hunt up the runaways.
At the Station near the camp, the party met two friends, who told them that Red was at Rattlesnake, and volunteers were called for to go in pursuit of him. A small party of picked men started, and followed up this rapid horseman, enduring on their march great hardships from the inclemency of the weather. The open air restaurant of the main body was not furnished with any great variety in the line of provisions. Sometimes the meal was bread and bacon—minus the bacon; and sometimes bacon and bread—minus the bread. Some choice spirits did venture, occasionally, on a song or a jest; but these jocular demonstrations were soon checked by the freezing of the beard and moustaches. The disconsolate troopers slapped their arms to keep themselves warm; but it was a melancholy and empty embrace, giving about as much warmth and comfort as the dream begotten memory of one loved and lost.
In the meantime the little party of volunteers wended their toilsome way through the deep snow, and riding till midnight, journeyed as far as Stone’s Ranch. Here they obtained remounts from the stock of Oliver &Co., and then resumed their cheerless progress towards Rattlesnake, at which place they arrived, after a ride of twenty miles. One of the party afterwards confidentially observed that “It wascold enough to freeze the tail of a brass monkey,” which observation had at least the merit of being highly metaphorical and forcibly descriptive.
The ranch was surrounded and one of the party entering, discovered Buck Stinson, Ned Ray, and a prisoner, whom, as Deputy Sheriffs (?), they had arrested. Stinson, who had a strong antipathy towards the gentleman who entered first, appeared, revolver in hand; but finding that the “drop” was falling the wrong way, restrained his bellicose propensities, and, eventually, not being able to fathom the whole purpose of his unwelcome visitor, who amused him with a fictitious charge of horse stealing against Red, set free his prisoner, on his promise to go and surrender himself up, and, much moved in spirit, made his horse do all he knew about galloping, on his road to Bannack City.
The party, who knew where to look for their man, rode straight for a wakiup a few hundred yards up the creek, and surrounded it instantly, their guns bearing on it. One of them dismounted, and throwing open the flap, entered with the amicable remark, “It’s a mighty cold night; won’t you let a fellow warm himself?” Seeing Red, he further remarked, “You’re the man I’m seeking; come along with me.”
The captive seemed perfectly unconcerned; he was as iron-nerved a man as ever leveled a shot-gun at a coach. He was told that he was wanted to go to Virginia; but he asked no questions. From his arrest till the moment of his execution, he seemed possessed with the idea that it was his fate to be taken then and there, and that his doom was irrevocably sealed. They stayed all night at the ranch, Red going to bed with his boots on, “all standing,” as the sailors say.
The next morning they got up their horses, Red—unarmed, of course—riding his own. One trooper rode beside him all the time; the remainder were strung out on the road, like beads. While loping along, the mule of the leader stumbled and rolled over, making two or three complete somersaults before he fetched up; but the snow was so deep that no great harm was done, and a merry laugh enlivened the spirits of the party. The escort safely brought their prisoner to Dempsey’s Ranch, where they overtook and rejoined themain body that had camped there for two days, awaiting their coming. The demeanor of the captive was cheerful, and he was quite a pleasant companion. He asked no questions relative to his arrest, and rode from Rattlesnake to Dempsey’s as if on a pleasure excursion, behaving in a most courteous and gentlemanly manner all the time, and this, be it remembered, with the conviction that his hours were numbered, and that the blood of his victims was about to be avenged. After reporting the capture of Yager, the party took supper and went to bed.
There was in the house, at this time, the secretary—Brown—who had written the letter warning his comrades to fly from Cottonwood, and which missive Red had carried only too speedily. He acted as bar-keeper and man of all work at the ranch. This individual was the very opposite of Yager, in all respects. He was cowardly and had never worked on the road, but had always done his best to assist the gang, as an outsider, with information calculated to ensure the stoppage of treasure laden victims. He was in the habit of committing minor felonies and of appearing as a straw witness, when needed.
After breakfast, the two men were confronted. Brown—who had evidently suspected danger, ever since the arrival of the Vigilantes—was greatly terrified. Red was as cool and collected as a veteran on parade. Previously to the two robbers being confronted, the captain took Red into a private room, and told him that he was suspected of being in league with a band of Road Agents and murderers. He denied the charge altogether. The captain then asked him why—if he was innocent—should he take such pains to inform the gang that the Vigilantes were after them? He said that he came along to Bob’s, on his way to Deer Lodge, and that Brown asked him to carry a letter along to Aleck Carter and some friends, and that having said he would do so, he did it. The two men were called up to the bar, and there Red again admitted the carrying of the letter which Brown had written. Brown having told his examiners that he had seen one of their number before, and knew him, was asked what sort of a man was the one he referred to. He replied that he took him to be a half-breed. The Vigilanter,who had come in, heard the description, and ejaculating, “You ——, you call de Dutchmans half-breeds, you do, do you?” made at him with his fists; but his comrades almost choking with laughter, held him off the horrified Brown, whose fear of instantaneous immolation at the hands of the fiery Dutchlander had blanched his cheek to a turnip color.
The captain then told Brown that he must consider himself under arrest, and remain there. He was taken out to Dempsey’s house and kept there till the examination and trial of Red was concluded. Being then brought in and questioned, he testified that Red came to Dempsey’s and said that he was going to see the boys, and asked if Brown had anything to tell them, offering to carry the letter. He said that Red was Ives’ cousin, (this was untrue;) that he wrote the letter advising them to leave, for that the Vigilantes were after them.
At Smith’s Ranch it had been found, on comparing notes, that the statements of Red to the successive portions of the command that he had met while crossing the Divide, were not consistent, and, as frequently happens, the attempt at deception had served only to bring out the truth. Red was incontrovertibly proven to be one of the gang. The confession of each man conclusively established the guilt of the other.
A guard was placed over the two men and the remainder of the Vigilantes went out on the bridge and took a vote upon the question as to whether the men should be executed or liberated. The captain said, “All those in favor of hanging those two men step to the right side of the road, and those who are for letting them go, stand on the left.” Before taking the vote he had observed to them, “Now, boys, you have heard all about this matter, and I want you to vote according to your consciences. If you think they ought to suffer punishment, say so. If you think they ought to go free vote for it.” The question having been put, the entire command stepped over to the right side, and the doom of the robbers was sealed.
One of the party, who had been particularly lip-courageous now began to weaken, and discovered that he should lose $2,000 if he did not go home at once. Persuasion only paledhis lips, and he started off. The click! click! click! of four guns, however, so far directed his fears into an even more personal channel, that he concluded to stay.
The culprits were informed that they should be taken to Virginia, and were given in charge to a trustworthy and gallant man, with a detachment of seven, selected from the whole troop. This escort reached Lorraine’s in two hours. The rest of the men arrived at sun down. The prisoners were given up, and the leader of the little party, who had not slept for four or five nights, lay down to snatch a brief, but welcome repose. About 10P. M., he was awakened, and the significant, “We want you,” announced “business.”
The tone and manner of the summons at once dispelled even his profound and sorely needed slumber. He rose without further parley and went from the parlor to the bar-room where Red and Brown were lying in a corner, asleep. Red got up at the sound of his footsteps, and said, “You have treated me like a gentleman, and I know I am going to die—I am going to be hanged.” “Indeed,” said his quondam custodian, “that’s pretty rough.” In spite of a sense of duty, he felt what he said deeply. “It is pretty rough,” continued Yager, “but I merited this, years ago. What I want to say is that I know all about the gang, and there are men in it that deserve this more than I do; but I should die happy if I could see them hanged, or know that it would be done. I don’t say this to get off. I don’t want to get off.” He was told that it would be better if he should give all the information in his possession, if only for the sake of his kind. Times had been very hard, and “you know, Red,” said the Vigilanter, “that men have been shot down in broad day light—not for money, or even for hatred, but forLUCK, and it must be put a stop to.”
To this he assented, and the captain being called, all that had passed was stated to him. He said that the prisoner had better begin at once, and his words should be taken down. Red began by informing them that Plummer was chief of the band; Bill Bunton second in command and stool pigeon; Sam Bunton, roadster, (sent away for being a drunkard;) Cyrus Skinner, roadster, fence and spy. At Virginia City, George Ives, Steven Marshland, Dutch John (Wagner,)Aleck Carter, Whiskey Bill, (Graves,) were roadsters; Geo. Shears was a roadster and horse-thief; Johnny Cooper and Buck Stinson were also roadsters; Ned Bay was council-room keeper at Bannack City; Mexican Frank and Bob Zachary were also roadsters; Frank Parish was roadster and horse-thief; Boon Helm and Club-Foot George were roadsters; Haze Lyons and Bill Hunter were roadsters and telegraph men; George Lowry, Billy Page, Doc Howard, Jem Romaine, Billy Terwilliger and Gad Moore were roadsters. The pass-word was “Innocent.” They wore a neck-tie fastened with a “sailor’s knot,” and shaved down to moustache and chin whiskers. He admitted that he was one of the gang; but denied—as they invariably did—that he was a murderer. He also stated that Brown—his fellow captive—acted in the capacity before mentioned.
He spoke of Bill Bunton with a fierce animosity quite unlike his usual suave and courteous manner. To him, he said, he owed his present miserable position. He it was that first seduced him to commit crime, at Lewiston. He gave the particulars of the robberies of the coaches and of many other crimes, naming the perpetrators. As these details have been already supplied or will appear in the course of the narrative, they are omitted, in order to avoid a useless repetition.
After serious reflection, it had been decided that the two culprits should be executed forthwith, and the dread preparations were immediately made for carrying out the resolution.
The trial of George Ives had demonstrated most unquestionably that no amount of certified guilt was sufficient to enlist popular sympathy exclusively on the side of justice, or to render the just man other than a mark for vengeance. The majority of men sympathize, in spite of the voice of reason, with the murderers instead of the victims; a course of conduct which appears to us inexplicable, though we know it to be common. Every fibre of our frame vibrates with anger and disgust when we meet a ruffian, a murderer or a marauder. Mawkish sentimentalism we abhor. The thought of murdered victims, dishonored females, plundered wayfarers, burning houses, and the rest of the sad evidences of villainy,completely excludes mercy from our view. Honor, truth and the sacrifice of self to considerations of justice and the good of mankind—these claim, we had almost said our adoration; but for the low, brutal, cruel, lazy, ignorant, insolent, sensual and blasphemous miscreants that infest the frontiers, we entertain but one sentiment—aversion—deep, strong, and unchangeable. For such cases, the rope is the only prescription that avails as a remedy. But, though such feelings must be excited in the minds of good citizens, when brought face to face with such monsters as Stinson, Helm, Gallagher, Ives, Skinner, or Graves, the calm courage and penitent conduct of Erastus Yager have the opposite effect, and the loss of the goodly vessel thus wrecked forever, must inspire sorrow, though it may not and ought not to disarm justice.
Brief were the preparations needed. A lantern and some stools were brought from the house, and the party, crossing the creek behind Lorraine’s Ranch, made for the trees that still bear the marks of the axe which trimmed off the superfluous branches. On the road to the gallows, Red was cool, calm and collected. Brown sobbed and cried for mercy, and prayed God to take care of his wife and family in Minnesota. He was married to a squaw. Red, overhearing him, said, sadly but firmly, “Brown, if you had thought of this three years ago, you would not be here now, or give these boys this trouble.”
After arriving at the fatal trees, they were pinioned and stepped on to the stools, which had been placed one on the other to form a drop. Brown and the man who was adjusting the rope, tottered and fell into the snow; but recovering himself quickly, the Vigilanter said quietly, “Brown we must do better than that.”
Brown’s last words were, “God Almighty save my soul.”
The frail platform flew from under him, and his life passed away almost with the twang of the rope.
Red saw his comrade drop; but no sign of trepidation was visible. His voice was as calm and quiet as if he had been conversing with old friends. He said he knew that he should be followed and hanged when he met the party on the Divide. He wished that they would chain him andcarry him along to where the rest were, that he might see them punished. Just before he was launched into eternity, he asked to shake hands with them all, which having done, he begged of the man who had escorted him to Lorraine’s, that he would follow and punish the rest. The answer was given in these words, “Red we will do it, if there’s any such thing in the book.” The pledge was kept.
His last words were, “Good bye, boys; God bless you. You are on a good undertaking.” The frail footing on which he stood gave way, and this dauntless and yet guilty criminal died without a struggle. It was pitiful to see one whom nature intended for a hero, dying—and that justly—like a dog.
A label was pinioned to his back bearing the legend:
“Red! Road Agent and Messenger.”
The inscription on the paper fastened on to Brown’s clothes was:
“Brown! Corresponding Secretary.”
The fatal trees still smile as they don the green livery of Spring, or wave joyfully in the Summer breeze; but when the chill blast of winter moans over the snow-clad prairie, the wind sighing and creaking through the swaying boughs seems, to the excited listener, to be still laden with the sighs and sounds of that fatal night.Fiat Justitia ruat cælum.
The bodies were left suspended, and remained so for some days before they were buried. The ministers of justice expected a battle on their arrival at Nevada; but they found the Vigilantes organized in full force, and each man, as he uncocked his gun and dismounted, heaved a deep sigh of relief.THE CRISIS WAS PAST.