THE SNAKE RIVER SCOUT--CAPTURE AND EXECUTION OF JEM KELLY.
“The pitcher that went often to the well was broken at last.”
IRISH PROVERB.
In the month of July, 1864, the coach going from Virginia to Salt Lake
was robbed, and a large booty in gold dust was the reward of the Road
Agents. This was no sooner reported to the Committee, than prompt
measures were taken to pursue the perpetrators of the crime.
A party of twenty-one of the old veterans who had hunted down Plummer’s
band, left Nevada, on Sunday, the 28th day of August, and camped at
William’s Ranch for the night. On Monday, the party rode all day,
never halting from breakfast time till evening. The rain fell in
torrents, rendering cooking impossible; so a hard bite was all that
was available, and each man coiled himself up in his blanket with his
saddle for a pillow, and growled himself to sleep as best he could.
Four guards came into camp with the stock, at daylight; whereupon the
troop saddled up, without taking breakfast, every one of the “crowd”
being at the same time wet, “dry,” hungry and saucy. One of the boys
had managed to bring along a bottle of (contraband) whiskey, as he
said, in case of snake-bites; but, under the circumstances, as far as
can be ascertained, no one refused a mouthful of the aqua vitæ. They
had forgotten the “weights and measures” of their school days, and at
that camp, it was found that there was no scruples to a dram. As one
of the party observed, it was “big medicine, you bet.” A ride in the
wet of fifteen miles, brought them to Joe Patte’s and breakfast, which
latter being despatched, and the former having received their adieux,
the “boot and saddle” once more sounded, and they proceeded on their
journey, changing horses at the Canyon Station, and finally halting on
the banks of Medicine Lodge Creek, in the midst of a heavy rain storm,
without shelter.
In the morning everybody felt wet, of course, and unamiable, probably;
but as “business is business” when Montana Vigilantes are afoot,
nothing objectionable to morality was offered, except an odd oath,
caused by a stiff-legged cayuse or a refractory buckle, which, it is
charitably hoped, the rain washed from the record. The probabilities
favor the supposition, if the angel made the entry in his book on the
banks of that creek. If not, provided he was a good angel, he took no
notes till after breakfast and dinner, at Camos Creek, had somewhat
soothed and mollified the water-soaked, but irrepressible rangers.
Saddling up once more, the party loped along a little more cheerfully,
reaching Snake river at ten P. M., where they, “their wearied limbs to
rest,” lay down--in a haystack.
After breakfast, they turned their horses’ heads down stream, and camped
in the sage brush, without water, and with poor feed for stock. The
Vigilantes were supperless. On Friday, they borrowed the necessary
“batterie de cuisine” from the Overland station, and cooked their
breakfast after which they rode to Meek and Gibson’s Ferry, where they
camped, and turned out the stock in Fort Hall bottom.
A suspicious character having entered the camp, two of the boys tracked
him to his own “lodging on the cold ground;” finding however, that
there were no evidence of anything wrong about his halting place, they
returned.
At the Ferry, the Vigilantes met an old friend--a brother of the early
days of ’63-4. He was freighting poultry and hogs to Virginia, from
Salt Lake City. Glad to see his old comrades on their righteous errand,
he presented them with a thirty pound pig. A family of Morrisites
living in a cabin at the Ferry cooked it for them, and it was consumed
with immense zest. Here they learned that Jem Kelly had boarded in the
house, and on being asked to pay, he had threatened to whip the old
man. He said that he had a partner coming from Salt Lake, and that when
he arrived he should have a plenty of money. He also intimated to one
of the men living there that his partner was one of the men who robbed
Hughes, when a passenger in the coach. Kelly also said that there was
a big camp of emigrants, with a lot of mules, near there, on their way
to Oregon. He proposed that they should stampede the stock, and that if
the men offered a large enough reward, they should return them; but if
not, they would drive them off and sell them. The man refused to have
any hand in the matter, and was traveling towards the Butte, to buy
some lame cattle from the emigrants, when Kelly who started with him,
fell behind, and drawing a pistol, presented it at him. The man turned
at once, and Kelly, who saw something that scared him in the expression
of the man’s eye, had not nerve to shoot, though he wanted his money.
He therefore turned it off as a joke.
The man failed to purchase the cattle and returned. Kelly, who had
parted from him, came in some time during the next day, bringing with
him a horse, saddle and bridle. The emigrants had this horse to drive
loose stock, and as is usual with animals so trained, he followed the
wagons, picking up his own living. One day he lagged behind, and they
went back for him. It is supposed Kelly watched them from behind the
crest of a hill, and catching the horse rode off with him.
A party of ten men, with a captain, were sent to scout on the Portneuf
Creek, and were mounted on the best animals. They went to Junction
Station, Fort Hall, where the Overland boys shod the horses for them.
From that place they rode to Portneuf. The squad made a night march,
and camped at 11 P. M., without feed for man or beast, during a
hurricane of wind. Oliver’s coach went by, and when the driver spied
the horses, he thought of robbers, and the passengers looked mightily
scared. They drove by on a keen run, much to the amusement of the boys,
who saddled up at two o’clock A. M. The men had no bedding and no
“grub.” The culinary furniture was a tin cup in each man’s belt, and a
good set of teeth. They started at two o’clock A. M., because the stock
was so hungry and restless. They kept a bright lookout for Kelly.
At day-break they saw a camp-fire. They rode up thinking of good
times, but found only a lot of Shoshone Indians, who had little but
choke-cherries to eat. The chief shortly after came up to the captain,
and offered him a broiled trout, which he ate and then fell asleep,
while the others were regaling themselves on choke-cherries, supplied
by little naked pappooses. An old squaw seeing the leader asleep,
when the sun rose, built a willow wigwam over him, and when he woke,
he seemed considerably exercised at the sight of his house, which
seemed like Jonah’s gourd. This was too much for both the boys and the
Indians, and they laughed heartily.
The detachment saddled up and went on to Portneuf, where they ordered
breakfast at 11 P. M., at Oliver’s station. Here they learned that
a party of California prospectors, ten in number, all dressed in
buckskin, had caught Kelly, in a haystack. He had another horse by
this time, (he had sold one at the Ferry.) The party went back for two
and a half miles, on Sunday morning. The captain was ahead, scouting,
with one of the boys, and found the dead body of a man floating in the
creek. There was a shot wound through the back of the head. The corpse
was wrapped in a grey blanket, with a four strand lariet round the
neck and shoulders, as though the body had been dragged and sunk. There
were two camp fires near, which seemed to be ten or fifteen days old.
They were situated in a thicket of willows. There was a large boulder
at the bottom of the eddy, where there was no current, and the men
thought that the body had been tied to it, but that it had broken loose
and floated.
The Vigilantes went back, got a pick and shovel, and buried him.
The body was dreadfully decomposed, and it was both difficult and
disgusting to raise it; however, they consulted, and slipping willows
under it, they reached over, and joining the tops, lifted out
altogether, and laid the putrefied remains in their willow grave.
Willows were placed below and around them, and having covered them with
earth and stone, they, getting a tail-board from a pilgrim’s wagon,
wrote an inscription, stating his finding by the Vigilantes, and the
date of his burial. The men then jumped into the saddle, and rode until
after night, coming up with a freight train for Virginia, camped on
the road. The captain told his story, whereupon the wagon-boss ordered
them a good warm drink and a hearty supper, sending his herder to look
after the stock. The command slept soundly till daylight, and then
rode twenty-five miles to the Ferry, to breakfast. They found the main
body still camped there, and they were glad to see the California
buckskin-rangers, and Jem Kelly in custody.
A trial was called, and the evidence being heard, Kelly was unanimously
condemned to death. While pinioned, he asked for his pipe; and got a
smoke, which he seemed to enjoy very much. A knot was tied and greased,
and when all was working right, the party marched down to a Balm of
Gillead tree, and in presence of the prisoner rigged a scaffold by
cutting a notch into the tree, and putting one end of a plank from a
pilgrim-wagon, into the notch, and supporting the other on a forked
stick. The captain asked Kelly if he had anything to say. He answered
that if he had never drank any whiskey he would have been a better man.
He said it was hard to hang him, after whipping him. While he was on
the trap, a couple of Shoshone warriors came up, and looked on with
evident amazement. When the plank was knocked from under him, the
Indians gave a loud “Ugh!” and started at full speed for their camp.
After he had hung some fifteen minutes, the buckskin party came up,
and having made some inquiries, they helped to bury him, in a willow
coffin. The Vigilantes then returned home without any further incident
of travel worth recording.