AN EXCITING CHASE.
General Carr, at my request, kindly granted me one month's leave of
absence to visit my family in St. Louis, and ordered Captain Hays, our
quartermaster, to let me ride my mule and horse to Sheridan, distant 140
miles, where I was to take the cars. I was instructed to leave the
animals in the quartermaster's corral at Fort Wallace until I should come
back, but instead of doing this I put them both in the care of my old
friend Perry, the hotel-keeper at Sheridan. After a twenty days absence
in St. Louis, pleasantly spent with my family, I returned to Sheridan,
and there learned that my mule and horse had been seized by the
government.
It seems that the quartermaster's agent at Sheridan had reported to
General Bankhead, commanding Fort Wallace, and to Captain Laufer, the
quartermaster, that I had left the country and had sold a government
horse and mule to Mr. Perry, and of course Captain Laufer took possession
of the animals and threatened to have Perry arrested for buying
government property. Perry explained to him the facts in the case and
said that I would return in a few days; but the captain would pay no
attention to his statements.
I immediately went over to the office of the quartermaster's agent, and
had Perry point him out to me. I at once laid hold of him, and in a
short time had treated him to just such a thrashing as his contemptible
lie deserved.
He then mounted a horse, rode to Fort Wallace, and reported me to General
Bankhead and Captain Laufer, and obtained a guard to return with and
protect him.
The next morning I secured a horse from Perry, and proceeding to Fort
Wallace demanded my horse and mule from General Bankhead, on the ground
that they were quartermaster Hays' property and belonged to General
Carr's command, and that I had obtained permission to ride them to
Sheridan and back. General Bankhead, in a gruff manner ordered me out of
his office and off the reservation, saying that if I didn't take a
hurried departure he would have me forcibly put out. I told him to do it
and be hanged; I might have used a stronger expression, and upon second
thought, I believe I did. I next interviewed Captain Laufer and demanded
of him also the horse and mule, as I was responsible for them to
Quartermaster Hays. Captain Laufer intimated that I was a liar and that I
had disposed of the animals. Hot words ensued between us, and he too
ordered me to leave the post. I replied that General Bankhead had
commanded me to do the same thing, but that I had not yet gone; and that
I did not propose to obey any orders of an inferior officer.
Seeing that it was of no use to make any further effort to get possession
of the animals I rode back to Sheridan, and just as I reached there I met
the quartermaster's agent coming out from supper, with his head tied up.
It occurred to me that he had not received more than one half the
punishment justly due him, and that now would be a good time to give him
the balance--so I carried the idea into immediate execution. After
finishing the job in good style, I informed him that he could not stay in
that town while I remained there, and convinced him that Sheridan was not
large enough to hold us both at the same time; he accordingly left the
place and again went to Fort Wallace, this time reporting to General
Bankhead that I had driven him away, and had threatened to kill him.
That night while sleeping at the Perry House, I was awakened by a tap on
the shoulder and upon looking up I was considerably surprised to see the
room filled with armed negroes who had their guns all pointed at me. The
first words I heard came from the sergeant, who said:
"Now look a-heah, Massa Bill, ef you makes a move we'll blow you off de
farm, shuah!" Just then Captain Ezekiel entered and ordered the soldiers
to stand back.
"Captain, what does this mean?" I asked.
"I am sorry, Bill, but I have been ordered by General Bankhead to arrest
you and bring you to Fort Wallace," said he.
"That's all right," said I, "but you could have made the arrest alone,
without having brought the whole Thirty-eighth Infantry with you." "I
know that, Bill," replied the Captain, "but as you've not been in very
good humor for the last day or two, I didn't know how you would act."
I hastily dressed, and accompanied Captain Ezekiel to Fort Wallace,
arriving there at two o'clock in the morning.
"Bill, I am really sorry," said Captain Ezekiel, as we alighted, "but I
have orders to place you in the guard-house, and I must perform my duty."
"Very well, Captain; I don't blame you a bit," said I; and into the
guard-house I went as a prisoner for the first and only time in my life.
The sergeant of the--guard who was an old friend of mine, belonging to
Captain Graham's company, which was stationed there at the time--did not
put me into a cell, but kindly allowed me to stay in his room and occupy
his bed, and in a few minutes I was snoring away as if nothing unusual
had occurred.
Shortly after _reveille_ Captain Graham called to see me. He thought it
was a shame for me to be in the guard-house, and said that he would
interview General Bankhead in my behalf as soon as he got up. The Captain
had a nice breakfast prepared for me, and then departed. At guard-mount I
was not sent for, contrary to my expectations, and thereupon I had word
conveyed to Captain Graham, who was officer of the day, that I wanted to
see General Bankhead. The Captain informed me that the General absolutely
refused to hold any conversation whatever with me.
At this time there was no telegraph line between Fort Wallace and Fort
Lyon, and therefore it was impossible for me to telegraph to General
Carr, and I determined to send a dispatch direct to General Sheridan. I
accordingly wrote out a long telegram informing him of my difficulty,
and had it taken to the telegraph office for transmission; but the
operator, instead of sending it at once as he should have done, showed
it to General Bankhead, who tore it up, and instructed the operator not
to pay any attention to what I might say, as he was running that post.
Thinking it very strange that I received no answer during the day I
went to the telegraph office, accompanied by a guard, and learned from
the operator what he had done. "See here, my young friend," said I,
"this is a public telegraph line, and I want my telegram sent, or
there'll be trouble."
I re-wrote my dispatch and handed it to him, accompanied with the money
to pay for the transmission, saying, as I did so: "Young man, I wish that
telegram sent direct to Chicago. You know it is your duty to send it, and
it must go."
He knew very well that he was compelled to transmit the message, but
before doing so he called on General Bankhead and informed him of what I
had said, and told him that he would certainly have to send it, for if he
didn't he might lose his position. The General, seeing that the telegram
would have to go, summoned me to his headquarters, and the first thing he
said, after I got into his presence was:
"If I let you go, sir, will you leave the post at once and not bother my
agent at Sheridan again?"
"No, sir;" I replied, "I'll do nothing of the kind. I'll remain in the
guard-house until I receive an answer from General Sheridan."
"If I give you the horse and mule will you proceed at once to Fort Lyon?"
"No, sir; I have some bills to settle at Sheridan and some other business
to transact," replied I.
"Well, sir; will you at least agree not to interfere any further with the
quartermaster's agent at Sheridan?"
"I shall not bother him any more, sir, as I have had all I want from
him," was my answer.
General Bankhead thereupon sent for Captain Laufer and ordered him to
turn the horse and mule over to me. In a few minutes more I was on my way
to Sheridan, and after settling my business there, I proceeded to Fort
Lyon, arriving two days afterwards. I related my adventures to General
Carr, Major Brown, and other officers, who were greatly amused thereby.
"I'm glad you've come, Bill," said General Carr, "as I have been
wanting you for the last two weeks. While we have been at this post
several valuable animals, as well as a large number of government
horses and mules have been stolen, and we think that the thieves are
still in the vicinity of the fort, but as yet we have been unable to
discover their rendezvous. I have had a party out for the last few days
in the neighborhood of old Fort Lyon, and they have found fresh tracks
down there and seem to think that the stock is concealed somewhere in
the timber, along the Arkansas river. Bill Green, one of the scouts who
has just come up from there, can perhaps tell you something more about
the matter."
Green, who had been summoned, said that he had discovered fresh trails
before striking the heavy timber opposite old Fort Lyon, but that in the
tall grass he could not follow them. He had marked the place where he had
last seen fresh mule tracks, so that he could find it again.
"Now, Cody, you're just the person we want," said the General.
"Very well, I'll get a fresh mount, and to-morrow I'll go down and see
what I can discover," said I.
"You had better take two men besides Green, and a pack mule with eight or
ten days' rations," suggested the General, "so that if you find the trail
you can follow it up, as I am very anxious to get back this stolen
property. The scoundrels have taken one of my private horses and also
Lieutenant Forbush's favorite little black race mule."
Next morning I started out after the horse-thieves, being accompanied by
Green, Jack Farley, and another scout. The mule track, marked by Green,
was easily found, and with very little difficulty I followed it for about
two miles into the timber and came upon a place where, as I could plainly
see from numerous signs, quite a number of head of stock had been tied
among the trees and kept for several days. This was evidently the spot
where the thieves had been hiding their stolen stock until they had
accumulated quite a herd. From this point it was difficult to trail
them, as they had taken the stolen animals out of the timber one by one
and in different directions, thus showing that they were experts at the
business and experienced frontiersmen, for no Indian could have exhibited
more cunning in covering up a trail than did they.
I abandoned the idea of following their trail in this immediate locality,
so calling my men together, I told them that we would ride out for about
five miles and make a complete circuit about the place, and in this way
we would certainly find the trail on which they had moved out. While
making the circuit we discovered the tracks of twelve animals--four mules
and eight horses--in the edge of some sand-hills, and from this point we
had no trouble in trailing them down the Arkansas river, which they had
crossed at Sand Creek, and then had gone up the latter stream, in the
direction of Denver, to which place they were undoubtedly bound. When
nearing Denver their trail became so obscure that we at last lost it; but
by inquiring of the settlers along the road which they had taken, we
occasionally heard of them.
When within four miles of Denver--this was on a Thursday--we learned that
the horse-thieves had passed there two days before. I came to the
conclusion they would attempt to dispose of the animals in Denver, and
being aware that Saturday was the great auction day there, I thought it
best to remain where we were at a hotel, and not go into the city until
that day. It certainly would not have been advisable for me to have gone
into Denver meantime--because I was well-known there, and if the thieves
had learned of my presence in the city they would at once have suspected
my business.
Early Saturday morning, we rode into town and stabled our horses at the
Elephant Corral. I secured a room from Ed. Chase, overlooking the corral,
and then took up my post of observation. I did not have long to wait, for
a man, whom I readily recognized as one of our old packers, rode into the
corral mounted upon Lieutenant Forbush's racing mule, and leading another
government mule, which I also identified. It had been recently branded,
and over the "U.S." was a plain "D.B." I waited for the man's companion
to put in an appearance, but he did not come, and my conclusion was that
he was secreted outside of the city with the rest of the animals.
Presently the black mule belonging to Forbush was put up at auction. Now,
thought I, is the time to do my work. So, walking through the crowd, who
were bidding for the mule, I approached the man who had offered him for
sale. He recognized me and endeavored to escape, but I seized him by the
shoulder, saying: "I guess, my friend, that you'll have to go with me. If
you make any resistance, I'll shoot you on the spot." He was armed with a
pair of pistols, which I took away from him. Then informing the
auctioneer that I was a United States detective, and showing him--as well
as an inquisitive officer--my commission as such, I told him to stop the
sale, as the mule was stolen property, and that I had arrested the thief,
whose name was Williams.
Farley and Green, who were near at hand, now came forward, and together
we took the prisoner and the mules three miles down the Platte River;
there, in a thick bunch of timber, we all dismounted and made
preparations to hang Williams from a limb, if he did not tell us where
his partner was. At first he denied knowing anything about any partner,
or any other stock; but when he saw that we were in earnest, and would
hang him at the end of the given time--five minutes--unless he
"squealed," he told us that his "pal" was at an unoccupied house three
miles further down the river.
We immediately proceeded to the spot indicated, and as we came within
sight of the house we saw our stock grazing near by. Just as we rode up
to the door, another one of our old packers, whom I recognized as Bill
Bevins, stepped to the front, and I covered him instantly with my rifle
before he could draw his revolver. I ordered him to throw up his hands,
and he obeyed the command. Green then disarmed him and brought him out.
We looked through the house and found their saddles, pack-saddles,
blankets, overcoats, lariats and two Henry rifles, which we took
possession of. The horses and mules we tied in a bunch, and with the
whole outfit we returned to Denver, where we lodged Williams and Bevins
in jail, in charge of my friend, Sheriff Edward Cook. The next day we
took them out, and, tying each one on a mule, we struck out on our return
trip to Fort Lyon.
At the hotel outside the city, where we had stopped on Thursday and
Friday, we were joined by our man with the pack-mule. That night we
camped on Cherry Creek, seventeen miles from Denver. The weather--it
being in April--was cold and stormy, but we found a warm and cosy
camping place in a bend of the creek. We made our beds in a row, with our
feet towards the fire. The prisoners so far had appeared very docile, and
had made no attempt to escape, and therefore I did not think it necessary
to hobble them. We made them sleep on the inside, and it was so arranged
that some one of us should be on guard all the time.
At about one o'clock in the night it began snowing, while I was watching.
Shortly before three o'clock, Jack Farley, who was then on guard, and
sitting on the foot of the bed, with his back to the prisoners, was
kicked clear into the fire by Williams, and the next moment Bevins, who
had got hold of his shoes--which I had thought were out of his
reach--sprang up and jumped over the fire, and started on a run. I sent a
shot after him as soon as I awoke sufficiently to comprehend what was
taking place. Williams attempted to follow him, and as he did so, I
whirled around and knocked him down with my revolver. Farley by this time
had gathered himself out of the fire, and Green had started after Bevins,
firing at him on the run; but the prisoner made his escape into the
brush. In his flight, unfortunately for him, and luckily for us, he
dropped one of his shoes.
Leaving Williams in the charge of Farley and "Long Doc," as we called
the man with the pack-mule, Green and myself struck out after Bevins as
fast as possible. We heard him breaking through the brush, but knowing
that it would be useless to follow him on foot, we went back to the camp
and saddled up two of the fastest horses, and at daylight we struck out
on his trail, which was plainly visible in the snow. He had got an hour
and a half the start of us. His tracks led us in the direction of the
mountains and the South Platte River, and as the country through which he
was passing was covered with prickly pears, we knew that he could not
escape stepping on them with his one bare foot, and hence we were likely
to overtake him in a short time. We could see, however, from the long
jumps that he was taking, that he was making excellent time, but we
frequently noticed, after we had gone some distance, that the prickly
pears and stones along his route were cutting his bare foot, as nearly
every track of it was spotted with blood.
We had run our horses some twelve miles when we saw Bevins crossing a
ridge about two miles ahead. Urging our horses up to their utmost speed,
we reached the ridge just as he was descending the divide towards the
South Platte, which stream was very deep and swift at this point. It
became evident that if he should cross it ahead of us, he would have a
good chance of making his escape. So pushing our steeds as fast as
possible, we rapidly gained on him, and when within a hundred yards of
him I cried to him to halt or I would shoot. Knowing I was a good shot,
he stopped, and, coolly sitting down, waited till we came up.
"Bevins, you've given us a good run," said I.
"Yes," said he, "and if I had had fifteen minutes more of a start and
got across the Platte, I would have laughed at the idea of your ever
catching me."
Bevin's run was the most remarkable feat of the kind ever known, either
of a white man, or an Indian. A man who could run bare-footed in the
snow eighteen miles through a prickly pear patch, was certainly a
"tough one," and that's the kind of a person Bill Bevins was. Upon
looking at his bleeding foot I really felt sorry for him. He asked me
for my knife, and I gave him my sharp-pointed bowie, with which he dug
the prickly pear briars out of his foot. I considered him as "game" a
man as I had ever met.
"Bevins, I have got to take you back," said I, "but as you can't walk
with that foot, you can ride my horse and I'll foot it."
We accordingly started back for our camp, with Bevins on my horse, which
was led either by Green or myself, as we alternately rode the other
horse. We kept a close watch on Bevins, for we had ample proof that he
needed watching. His wounded foot must have pained him terribly but not a
word of complaint escaped him. On arriving at the camp we found Williams
bound as we had left him and he seemed sorry that we had captured Bevins.
[Illustration: THE RECAPTURE OF BEVINS.]
After breakfasting we resumed our journey, and nothing worth of note
again occurred until we reached the Arkansas river, where we found a
vacant cabin and at once took possession of it for the night. There was
no likelihood of Bevins again trying to escape, for his foot had swollen
to an enormous size, and was useless. Believing that Williams could not
escape from the cabin, we unbound him. We then went to sleep, leaving
Long Doc on guard, the cabin being comfortably warmed and well lighted by
the fire. It was a dark, stormy night--so dark that you could hardly see
your hand before you. At about ten o'clock, Williams asked Long Doc to
allow him to step to the door for a moment.
Long Doc, who had his revolver in his hand, did not think it necessary to
wake us up, and believing that he could take care of the prisoner, he
granted his request. Williams thereupon walked to the outer edge of the
door, while Long Doc, revolver in hand, was watching him from the inside.
Suddenly Williams made a spring to the right, and before Doc could even
raise his revolver, he had dodged around the house. Doc jumped after him,
and fired just as he turned a corner, the report bringing us all to our
feet, and in an instant we knew what had happened. I at once covered
Bevins with my revolver, but as I saw that he could hardly stir, and was
making no demonstration, I lowered the weapon. Just then Doc came in
swearing "a blue streak," and announced that Williams had escaped. There
was nothing for us to do except to gather our horses close to the cabin
and stand guard over them for the rest of the night, to prevent the
possibility of Williams sneaking up and stealing one of them. That was
the last I ever saw or heard of Williams.
We finally got back to Fort Lyon with Bevins, and General Carr, to whom I
immediately reported, complimented us highly on the success of our trip,
notwithstanding we had lost one prisoner. The next day we took Bevins to
Boggs' ranch on Picket Wire Creek, and there turned him over to the civil
authorities, who put him in a log jail to await his trial. He never was
tried, however, for he soon made his escape, as I expected he would do. I
heard no more of him until 1872, when I learned that he was skirmishing
around on Laramie Plains at his old tricks. He sent word by the gentleman
from whom I gained this information, that if he ever met me again he
would kill me on sight. He finally was arrested and convicted for
robbery, and was confined in the prison at Laramie City. Again he made
his escape, and soon afterwards he organized a desperate gang of outlaws
who infested the country north of the Union Pacific railroad, and when
the stages began to run between Cheyenne and Deadwood, in the Black
Hills, they robbed the coaches and passengers, frequently making large
hauls of plunder. They kept this up for some time, till finally most of
the gang were caught, tried, convicted, and sent to the penitentiary for
a number of years. Bill Bevins and nearly all of his gang are now
confined in the Nebraska state prison, to which they were transferred,
from Wyoming.
[Illustration: ROBBING A STAGE COACH.]