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 some ROPE. 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 upon the 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 them IN it. 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, for their
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 was cold 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 the main 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 paled his 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 10 P. 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 for LUCK, 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
and carry 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.