EXECUTION OF HUNTER
Soon after the transactions recorded in the last chapter, the Virginia
City Vigilantes were informed that Bill Hunter had been seen in the
Gallatin Valley. It was reported that he sought a covert among the rocks
and brush, where he remained during the day, stealing out at night and
seeking food among the scattered settlers, as he could find it. His
place of concealment was about twenty miles from the mouth of the
Gallatin River. A number of the Vigilantes, under the pretence of
joining the Barney Hughes stampede to a new placer discovery, left
Virginia City, and scoured the country for a distance of sixty miles or
more, in search of the missing ruffian. Hunter was discovered during
this search.
As soon as it became known that he was at the spot indicated, four
resolute men at once volunteered to go in pursuit of, capture, and
execute him. Their route lay across two heavy divides, and required
about sixty miles of hurried travelling. The first day they crossed the
divide between the Pas-sam-a-ri and the Madison, camping that night on
the bank of the latter river, which they had forded with great
difficulty. The weather was intensely cold, and their blankets afforded
but feeble protection against it. They built a large camp-fire, and lay
down as near to it as safety would permit. One of their number spread
his blankets on the slope of a little hillock next the fire, and during
the night slipped down until his feet encountered the hot embers. The
weather increased in severity the next day, during most of which the
Vigilantes rode through a fierce mountain snowstorm, with the wind
directly in their faces. At two o’clock P.M. they halted for supper at
the Milk ranche, about twenty miles from the place where they expected
to find the fugitive. Under the guidance of a man whom they employed
here, they then pushed on at a rapid pace, the storm gathering in fury
as they progressed. At midnight they drew up near a lone cabin in the
neighborhood of the rocky jungle where their game had taken cover.
“This storm has certainly routed him,” said one of the Vigilantes. “Ten
to one, we bag him in the cabin.”
“Very likely,” replied another. “He would not suspect danger in such
weather. It will save us a heap of trouble.”
One of the men rapped loudly at the cabin door. Opening it slowly, a
look of amazement stole over the features of the inmate, as he surveyed
the company of six mounted armed men.
“Good-evening,” said one, saluting him.
“Don’t know whether it is or not,” growled the man, evidently suspicious
that a visit at so late an hour meant mischief.
“Build us a fire, man,” said the Vigilante. “We are nearly frozen, and
this is the only place of shelter from this storm for many miles. Surely
you won’t play the churl to a party of weather-bound prospectors.”
Reassured by this hearty reproof for his seeming unkindness, the man set
to work with a will, and in a few moments a genial fire was blazing on
the hearth, which the party enjoyed thoroughly. Glancing curiously
around the little room, the Vigilantes discovered that it contained
three occupants besides themselves. Placing their guns and pistols in
convenient position, and stationing a sentinel to keep watch and feed
the fire, the men spread their blankets on the clay surface of the
enclosure, and in a few moments were locked in sleep; careful, however,
first, to satisfy the eager curiosity of their entertainers, by a brief
conversation about mining, stampeding, prospecting, etc., and leading
them to believe that they were a party of miners, returning from an
unsuccessful expedition.
Fatigued with the ride and exposure of the two previous days, the
Vigilantes slept until a late hour the next morning. Two of the
occupants of the cabin rose at the same time. The other, entirely
enveloped in blankets, kept up a prolonged snore, whose deep bass
signified that he was wrapped in profound slumber. The Vigilantes,
contriving to keep four of their number in the cabin, while making
preparations to depart, soon had their horses saddled; but when all was
ready, one of them inquired in a careless tone,
“Who is the man that sleeps so soundly?”
“I don’t know him,” said the host.
“When did he come here?”
“At the beginning of the snowstorm, two days ago. He came in and asked
permission to remain here until it was over.”
“Perhaps it’s an acquaintance. Won’t you describe him to us?”
The man complied, by giving a most accurate description of Hunter. No
longer in doubt, the Vigilante went up to the bedside, and, in a loud
voice, called out, “Bill Hunter!”
Hastily drawing the blanket from his face, the occupant stared wildly
out upon the six armed men, asking in the same breath,
“Who’s there?”
Six shotguns levelled at his head answered the question.
“Give us your revolver, and get up,” was the command. Hunter instantly
complied.
“You are arrested as one of Plummer’s band of road agents.”
“I hope,” said Hunter, “you will take me to Virginia City.” A Vigilante
assented.
“What conveyance have you for me?”
“There,” said one, pointing to a horse, “is the animal you must ride.”
The prisoner put on his hat and overcoat, and mounted the horse. Just as
he was about to seize the reins, a Vigilante took them from his hands,
saying, with affected suavity,
“If you please, I’ll manage these for you. You’ve only to sit still and
ride.”
After the company started, the robber cast a suspicious glance behind
him, and saw one man following on foot. His countenance fell. The
expression told, in stronger language than words, that the thought which
harassed him was that he would not be taken to Virginia City. About two
miles distant from the cabin, the company drew up and dismounted under a
solitary tree. Scraping away the snow, they kindled a fire, and prepared
their breakfast, of which the robber partook with them, and seemed to
forget his fears, and laughed and joked as if no danger were nigh.
Breakfast over, the Vigilantes held a brief consultation as to the
disposition which should be made of their prisoner. On putting the
question to vote, it was decided by the votes of all but the person who
had signified to Hunter that he was to be taken to Virginia City, that
his execution should take place instantly.
The condemned wretch turned deadly pale, and in a faint voice asked for
water. One of the Vigilantes related to him the crimes of which he had
been guilty.
“Of course,” said he, “you know that offences of this magnitude, in all
civilized countries, are punished with death. The necessity for a rigid
enforcement of this penalty, in a country which has no judiciary, is
greater even than in one where these crimes are tried by courts of law.
There is no escape for you. We are sorry that you have incurred this
penalty,—sorry for you, but the blame is wholly yours.”
Hunter made no reply to the justice in his case, but requested that his
friends should not be informed of the manner of his death.
“I have,” said he, “no property to pay the expense of a funeral, and my
burial even must depend upon your charity. I hope you will give me a
decent one.”
“Every reasonable request shall be granted, Bill,” said the Vigilante;
“but you know the ground is too hard for us to attempt your interment
without proper implements. We will inform your friends of your
execution, and they will attend to your burial.”
While this conversation was going on, some of the Vigilantes had
prepared the noose, and passed the rope over a limb of the tree. The
criminal shook hands with all, tearfully bidding each “good-bye.” After
the rope was adjusted, several of the men took hold of it, and at a
given signal, by a rapid pull, ran the prisoner up so suddenly that he
died without apparent suffering; yet, strange to say, he reached as if
for his pistol, and pantomimically cocked and discharged it, the
by-standers stated, six times. The “ruling passion was strong in death.”
Leaving the corpse suspended from the tree, the Vigilantes, now that
their work was done, hurried homeward at a rapid pace.
Hunter was the last of Plummer’s band that fell into the hands of the
Vigilantes. The man was not destitute of redeeming qualities. He often
worked hard in the mines for the money he lost at the gaming-table, but
in an evil hour he joined Plummer’s gang, and aided in the commission of
many infamous crimes. In his personal intercourse he was known to
perform many kind acts. He admitted, just before his death, the justice
of his sentence. It is believed that in his escape through the pickets
at Virginia City he was assisted by some of the Vigilantes, who did not
credit his guilt.
The death of Hunter marked the bloody close of the reign of Plummer’s
band. He was the last of that terrible organization to fall a victim to
Vigilante justice. The retribution, almost Draconic in severity,
administered to these daring freebooters had in no respect exceeded the
demands of absolute justice. If the many acts I have narrated of their
villainies were not sufficient to justify the extreme course pursued in
their extermination, surely the unrevealed history, greater in enormity,
and stained with the blood of a hundred or more additional victims, must
remove all prejudices from the public mind against the voluntary
tribunal of the Vigilantes. There was no other remedy. Practically, they
had no law, but, if law had existed, it could not have afforded adequate
redress. This was proven by the feeling of security consequent upon the
destruction of the band. When the robbers were dead the people felt
safe, not for themselves alone, but for their pursuits and their
property. They could travel without fear. They had a reasonable
assurance of safety in the transmission of money to the States, and in
the arrival of property over the unguarded route from Salt Lake City.
The crack of pistols had ceased, and they could walk the streets without
constant exposure to danger. There was an omnipresent spirit of
protection, akin to that omnipresent spirit of law which pervaded older
civilized communities. Men of criminal instincts were cowed before the
majesty of an outraged people’s wrath, and the very thought of crime
became a terror to them. Young men who had learned to believe that the
roughs were destined to rule, and who, under the influence of that
guilty faith, were fast drifting into crime, shrunk appalled before the
thorough work of the Vigilantes. Fear, more potent than conscience,
forced even the worst of men to observe the requirements of civilized
society, and a feeling of comparative security among all classes was the
result.
But the work was not all done. A few reckless spirits remained, who,
when the excitement was over, forgot the lesson it taught, and returned
to their old vocation. The Vigilantes preserved their organization, and,
as we shall see in the subsequent pages of this history, meted out the
sternest justice to all capital offenders.
This portion of my history would be incomplete did I omit to mention
that Smith and Thurmond, the lawyers who had on several prominent
occasions defended the bloodiest of the roughs, were both banished. The
former of these was a man of remarkable ability in his profession and of
correct and generous impulses. To a clear, logical mind, and thorough
knowledge of his profession, he added fine powers as an orator; and it
was these qualities, more than any sympathy he indulged for his clients,
that rendered him obnoxious to public censure and suspicion. After an
exile of two years he returned to the Territory, and resumed the
practice of law, which he followed with success until his death, which
occurred in Helena in 1870. He was greatly lamented by all who knew him.
Thurmond came from the “west side,” with a reputation for being a friend
of the roughs,—one not in complicity with them, but upon whom they could
always depend for assistance in case of difficulty. After his banishment
he went to Salt Lake City, where he associated himself with the Danites,
or Destroying Angels of the Mormon Church, whom he tried to induce to
follow his leadership in an active crusade against all the members of
the Montana Vigilance Committee who might pass through Utah on their way
to the States. Failing in this, he afterwards removed to Dallas, Texas,
where he became involved in a quarrel with a noted desperado, by whom he
was shot and instantly killed.
The administration of justice, and the peace and safety of the people,
demanded the banishment of both these men, though many of worse
character and more criminal nature but of less influence were permitted
to remain.