A RIDE FOR LIFE
Crime, as an organized force in Montana, ceased with the execution of
Plummer and his infamous band early in 1864. The perseverance with which
they were pursued, and the swift punishment following their capture,
caused the few who escaped either to leave the Territory or abstain from
crime.
From July, 1864, till November, 1868, I was collector of internal
revenue for Montana. The duties of the office necessitated repeated
visits to many of the small gulches and outlying mining camps,
accessible only by bridle paths. My horseback journeys over these
ill-defined trails, unmarked by any sign of civilization, would
aggregate many thousands of miles—and while such experiences were
necessarily full of adventures, I regarded them as nearly free from
actual peril until undeceived by the following incident:
Early in the Summer of 1866 I visited all the gulches and camps in Deer
Lodge County, on a collecting trip, and had arrived at Blackfoot, a
little town in the county, where one of my deputies was located. With
the sum which he had received, my collections amounted to about $12,000.
Of this amount $5,000 or more was gold dust, which, at $18 an ounce,
weighed about twenty-five pounds. With the entire amount I intended to
leave the next day on horseback for Helena by way of Deer Lodge, some
hundred miles distant across the Rocky Mountains. My friend, Mr. Murphy,
happened to be in Blackfoot on special business, and we arranged to
travel in company as far as Deer Lodge, the county seat.
Late in the evening as I was about retiring, Mr. Murphy, who had been
out on business, came to my room, and in an anxious tone, said he
thought he had discovered a plan on foot to rob us the next day.
“Go with me down street,” said he, “and help me form an opinion.”
We strolled down to the stables where our horses were, and thence across
the street to a billiard saloon. Standing by one of the tables, Mr.
Murphy directed my attention to four men seated in the corner of the
room, engaged in close conversation. Something in their manner, their
furtive glances under their broad-brimmed hats, the pauses in their
conversation when approached, excited our suspicions, and we concluded
that as we were the only persons in town known to have money in any
considerable quantity, it was not improbable that Murphy’s suspicions
were correct. There was nothing in the appearance of the men to warrant
such a conclusion, but we remembered that Plummer had the port and
bearing of a perfect gentleman.
I returned to the hotel and retired with a feeling of uneasiness that
baffled sleep, and as I had resolved to go on, naturally set myself
devising some method of avoiding collision with these supposed
freebooters. I can form no idea now of the number or character of the
expedients that occurred to me, but I remember that none of them seemed,
at the time, to give promise of escape or safety if these men had, as I
expected, marked me for their prey.
Early next morning Murphy, who had been keenly on the alert, came to my
room and assured me that our suspicions were unfounded.
“Those men,” he said, “are honest miners. They left an hour ago to take
up claims on a new discovery. The peculiarities we noticed are
ascribable to their desire to conceal the locality until they have made
their choice of a claim.”
Though not fully reassured, my fears were greatly allayed by this
intelligence, which was seemingly confirmed an hour later on being told
by the stablekeeper that they had gone to Bear Gulch, where they said
they had found “something rich.”
It was pleasant to feel that if this information was true we should not
come in contact with them, Bear Gulch being opposite in direction from
our point of destination.
At a bend in the trail, about two miles down the creek, we came upon a
log cabin saloon by the wayside, in front of which were hitched four
horses and leaning beside the door were four double-barrelled shotguns.
A glance was sufficient to comprehend the situation.
“Great Cæsar! Langford,” said Murphy in an undertone, “there they are.
We are in for it now beyond a doubt. Those fellows are after our
collections.”
Our coming had evidently been anticipated, for the saloon-keeper stood
in the door, and with the familiarity of an old acquaintance hallooed to
Murphy: “Come in, come in; bring your friend and take a drink.”
“Thank you,” responded Murphy, “I don’t drink,” and deferred to me.
“I never take anything, either,” said I.
“Well, come in and get a cigar then,” he persisted.
Both replied in a breath that we did not smoke.
“That’s odd,” said he, “to meet two men in the mountains that neither
drink nor smoke. Come in anyway, and surprise your bowels with a glass
of cold water.”
This old joke had lost none of its relish for the four men within the
saloon, who hailed it with a shout and hurried to the door. We
recognized them as the same persons whom we had marked the previous
evening, and were no longer in doubt concerning their purpose, for they
had left Blackfoot in the direction of Bear Gulch, and by a roundabout
way had come upon the Deer Lodge trail. Reining our horses with seeming
unconcern, we rode slowly away, debating, meanwhile, what course to
pursue.
“What do you think of the situation?” I inquired of Murphy.
“Desperate enough,” he replied. “We’re no match for those rascals. They
can pick us off very easily, and no one will be the wiser. I feel
inclined to go no further.”
“That’ll not do,” I rejoined, “for if they’re bent on robbery they can
shoot us before we could get back to Blackfoot.”
“I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” responded Murphy, after a pause of a few
moments, and as if struck by a sudden thought, added, “a mile farther
down the gulch I’ll strike a familiar trail over to a ranche on the
stage road, leave my horse there and take the coach to Deer Lodge. If my
horse were as good as yours I’d take the chances and go on, but this
little cayuse would soon be run down by the robbers.”
“I wish you had a strong horse,” said I, “for I dislike very much to
take the risk alone.”
“Sorry, Langford,” he replied, “but you can see for yourself it would be
madness for me to accompany you. If they should pursue us it would be
impossible for us to keep together.”
We had now reached the trail leading to the ranche. Grasping his hand,
“Good-bye,” said I; “if fortune favors us we shall meet at Deer Lodge.”
“Good-bye, and the Lord go with you and protect you,” was his fervent
rejoinder.
I rode on at a moderate speed to the crossing of the Little Blackfoot,
hoping that I might fall in with a fishing party there, as the stream
was full of trout and often resorted to by the miners and ranchemen for
a day’s recreation. The valley of the Blackfoot at this ford, and for a
long distance above and below it, along the river, is covered with a
dense willow copse, which even at the distance of a few feet would
conceal a party from a passer-by. I looked and listened for friendly
faces and voices after fording the stream, and while riding through the
coppice. Uncheered by any sign of life, I seemed to derive a sense of
immediate safety from the thought that my pursuers would be restrained
from attacking me in the valley, lest they should be surprised by the
sudden appearance of an impromptu rescuing party.
Ascending the plateau at the base of a long, steep hill, I cast a
furtive glance backward and saw at the distance of a few hundred yards
the four ruffians approaching at a gallop. My heart sank within me, and
for a moment I abandoned all hope of escape.
It was, however, for a moment only. Stealing another look, I saw that
the party were deceived by the leisurely manner in which I was
travelling, and had reined their horses into a walk. Acting upon the
belief that they intended to delay an attack until I had crossed the
hill, I alighted from my horse, loosened the saddle girth, to favor his
respiration, and walked beside him two miles to the summit, followed by
the ruffians at a distance of about three hundred yards. I felt that if
I could put a mile between us my horse would achieve the race I saw
before me.
“Ned” possessed wonderful powers of endurance, and was said to be the
best four-mile horse in the Bitter Root Valley, where he was raised,
and, though often beaten in a race of one, two, or even three miles, had
been often tried and as uniformly succeeded where the distance was
extended to four miles. I had often tested his staying powers, having
once ridden him eighty-five miles and once again ninety-four miles, from
Virginia City to Berkin’s ranche in Boulder Valley, in one day; on
another occasion, when Governor Green Clay Smith had requested me to act
as messenger to convey to Colonel Howie, the commander of the militia in
camp in Helena, 130 miles distant, the news of a reported Indian
uprising, all telegraphic communication being suspended, he carried me
ninety-seven miles in fifteen hours, from Virginia City to Barkley’s
ranche, where I obtained another mount, and completed the journey within
twenty hours.
With a mile in my favor, the little ponies ridden by the pursuers could
not overtake me.
While these thoughts occurred to me as affording a possible means of
escape, the brigands doubtless felt that as soon as I began to descend
the hill they would have me at their mercy. Immediately after passing
the crown of the hill I lost sight of them. Tightening the girth I
sprang into the saddle and urged my horse to his utmost speed. The
narrow trail was thickly studded with boulders rising several inches
above the surface, over which my horse took many a flying leap, and I
was not without apprehension that an unlucky stumble of my faithful Ned
in attempting to clear them might unhorse me.
When the robbers reached the top of the divide and saw me at full speed
a mile in advance they comprehended the ruse, and putting spurs to their
horses, gave me instant chase.
It was then that my race for life began. They gained upon me rapidly at
the commencement, and at one time were so near that I could hear the
labored breathing of their horses. So close, indeed, were they that I
seized my cantinas with the purpose of casting the twenty-five pound
sack of gold dust into the first sheltered nook I could see by the
wayside to lighten the burden of my horse. No opportunity offered,
however, that would have escaped the sight of those in pursuit, and I
replaced the sack, and with the weight in excess of two hundred pounds
my gallant horse strove on with unabated speed until I saw one by one
the horses of the robbers worn out by exhaustion. Two of them that
followed longest finally closed the pursuit with an infernal yell and
gave up the chase.
After an urgent ride of two or three miles farther I completed the trip
by a slow pace through the Deer Lodge Valley, and the next morning took
the coach from Deer Lodge City to Helena, thankful for an escape from a
peril I hope never again to encounter.