ONE day, during “this interval after dinner,” which is “passed in study
and meditation,” Irving said, “Have you followed out all the story of
the Bisbee murderers?”
“Yes,” I said. “It is one of those strange cases of lawlessness, that
I have taken out of the newspapers for my scrap-book. Charles Reade[61]
would have been interested in it. Have you ever seen his scrap-books?”
“No,” said Irving; “are they very remarkable?”
“Yes, and in my slovenly attempts to save newspaper cuttings I often
think of him. I once spent a whole day with him, looking over his
journalistic extracts, and he was lamenting all the time the trouble
involved in their arrangement and indexing. He subscribed to many odd
out-of-the-way newspapers for his collections. If he had ever visited
America he would have been tempted to make a very formidable addition
to his list.
“Do you know the beginning of the Bisbee business? I have only seen
the account of the hunting down of one of the murderers, which has
interested me tremendously. Have you seen any accounts of the capture?”
“No.”
“Well, then, curiously enough I have received a San Francisco
‘Chronicle,’ with the entire story of it, and I believe it is worth
putting into the book. Can you tell me the nature of this crime?”
“Yes. One day several strangers arrived suddenly in the little town of
Bisbee, on the outskirts of Western civilization. They went into the
principal store, shot down the owner of it, fired at anybody they saw
on the street, killed a woman who was passing the store, and, having
generally, as it were, bombarded the little town, left as mysteriously
as they came. That is briefly the story, as it was repeated to me a
week ago by Dr. Gilman, of Chicago, who has recently returned from the
scene of the tragedy, and other mining camps and towns, about which he
entertained me with a dozen almost equally startling stories.”
“Well,” said Irving, “the hunt after these Bisbee ruffians is about
as dramatic an episode of police work as I ever came across. A reward
being offered for the chief of the gang who raided Bisbee, it was soon
discovered that ‘Big Dan,’ a notorious ruffian, was the criminal. The
entire business was after his most approved method, and it was finally
proved, beyond doubt, that this was the latest of ‘Big Dan Dowd’s’
crimes. On the 6th of January, Deputy Sheriff Daniels brought him in
custody into Tombstone, and this is the story of the capture:—
“‘On December 23, Daniels learned in Bisbee, from some Mexicans just in
from Sonora, that two men, answering the description of ‘Big Dan’ and
Billy Delaney, were in Bavispe, Sonora. This place will be remembered
as the point from which Crook started on his trip into the defiles
of the Sierra Madre, and lies on the western slope of that range.
Satisfying himself that the information furnished by the Mexicans was
correct, Daniels communicated with the sheriff’s office, and, after
making all necessary arrangements, started, on the morning of December
26, for that place. Accompanying the officer was a Mexican named
Lucero, on whom Daniels knew he could rely as a guide and a fighter.
On the morning of the 30th, after a ride of about two hundred miles,
Daniels and his two companions (he having picked up another Mexican at
Frontera) reached Bavispe. Here it was learned that Delaney and Dowd
had separated five days previously, Dowd remaining in Bavispe, which
point he had left that morning, about an hour prior to the arrival of
Daniels and his posse. Additional inquiries elicited the information
that Dowd had struck across the Sierra Madre for Janos, in the State of
Chihuahua, distant about seventy-five miles. After taking a short rest,
and perfecting plans for the capture of Delaney, the officer started in
pursuit of the other bandit.
“The route of travel led through the defiles of the Sierra Madre, by
rocks and precipitous trails, and it was not until the morning of
January 1 that Daniels reached Janos, where he learned, as at Bavispe,
that the bird had flown, having left Janos a few hours ahead of him for
Coralitos, distant about twenty-seven miles. Procuring fresh horses,
the posse started at once for Coralitos, which place was reached
about eight o’clock that evening. The town is in the centre of a
mining country, and is composed principally of Mexicans, there being
but half-a-dozen Americans in the place. The whole neighborhood, as
described by Daniels, seems to belong to the Coralitos Mining Company,
of which Ad Menzenberger is superintendent. Daniels went at once to
him, and communicating the object of his visit, learned that ‘Big Dan’
had arrived a short time previously, and was then in what was known
as the house of the Americans. The superintendent, having learned the
character of Dowd, was only too willing to assist in his capture, and,
under the cover of darkness, he and Daniels proceeded to the house.
Prior to reaching it, it was agreed that the superintendent should
enter in advance of Daniels, in order to prevent any interference by
the Americans who were in his employ, in the capture of Dowd.
“‘As agreed the superintendent entered the room first, with Daniels at
his heels. Dowd was sitting on a table facing the fire, and the rest
of the party were scattered about the room. On the table was standing,
also, a bottle of whiskey, which had not been uncorked. Everything
indicated that Dowd had no idea of the presence of an officer, and was
preparing for a jolly night with his companions. He did not even look
around when the men entered the room, and his first knowledge that he
was in the clutches of the law was when Menzenberger, who had reached
his side, caught hold of his arms, and throwing them above his head,
said, ‘Throw up your hands.’ Daniels, at the same time, with a cocked
pistol in each hand, made the demand to surrender. A word from the
superintendent to the Americans present showed Dowd, who was unarmed
at the time, that he was powerless to escape, and he quietly submitted
to being manacled. Daniels remained until the following morning, when
he was furnished with an ambulance and escort by the superintendent,
and driven to San José station, on the line of the Mexican Central
Railroad, one hundred and ten miles distant, and about ninety miles
south of El Paso del Norte. Here he telegraphed to Sheriff Ward of
the capture, and, putting his prisoner on board the train, started
for home. Upon nearing Paso del Norte, he feared that Dowd might
raise a question of extradition, and put him to much trouble; so he
made arrangements with the railroad officials, and, together with his
prisoner, was locked in the express car until reaching the American
line.’”
Irving recited most of the “Chronicle’s “narrative. The close, terse
particulars of its details leave sufficient color of surroundings to
the imagination of the reader.