CHALLENGE TO BATTLE.
We divided our long train into two parts, leaving a short space
between the sections. Mr. Wood's two wagons headed the forward part.
Toward the close of the day on which this change of arrangement was
made, the forward section turned off the road a short distance before
stopping to make camp, and the rear section passed slightly beyond the
first, left the road and halted, so that a double camp was formed,
with the two sections thus placed for the night in relative positions
the reverse of the order they had maintained during the day.
At night-fall, when supper was over and everything at rest, we saw
three horsemen going westward on the emigrant road. When they were
opposite the Maxwell, or forward, camp, as the train sections had
been placed, these men turned from the road and came toward us. We
soon recognized them as our late guests on the way: he of the big hat
and his two companions.
Riding into our camp, one of them remarked that they now observed the
change made in arrangement of our train, explaining that they had
intended to call on the Englishman, whose place had been in the lead.
They apologized for their mistake. The first speaker added that they
had heard it stated that this English gentleman had charged one of
their number with being in company with the Indians who killed his
wife, at the time of the tragedy, a few days before.
He of the big, brown hat then assumed the role of spokesman, and said:
"I understand that he indicated me, by description; and if that man
says I was with the Indians who killed his wife, I will kill him. Let
him say it, and I will shoot him down like a dog, that he is. I am
here to demand of him if he said it."
Another of the three said, in a tone of conciliation:
"We are honest men. We came out here from Stockton, California, where
we live, to meet the emigrants as they come over from the States. We
buy their weak and disabled stock, such as cannot finish the trip to
the Coast; take the animals onto range that we know of, and in the
fall, when they are recuperated, we drive them in for the California
market."
The man under the large hat resumed:
"My name is James Tooly. My partners here, are two brothers, named
Hawes. And now, if that Englishman, or any one among you, says I was
with the Indians who killed his wife, I will shoot him who says it,
right here before you all."
This was said with much vehemence, and punctuated with many oaths.
[Illustration: Van Diveer's advantage was slight, but sufficient]
Mr. Drennan, of our combined company, replied:
"If you want to talk like that, go where the man is. We don't want
that kind of language used here, in the presence of our women and
children."
Tooly, standing erect, high in his stirrups, drew a large pistol from
its holster and swung it above his head.
"I will say what I please, where I please; and I don't care who likes
it," roared Tooly, waving his pistol in air.
W. J. Van Diveer, a young man of the Drennan company, who had been
sitting on a wagon-tongue near the speaker, leaped to his feet, with a
pistol leveled at the big horseman's head, and with a manner that left
no doubt that he meant what he said, shouted:
"I'll be damned if you can do that here. Now, you put down your gun,
and go."
The muzzle of Van Diveer's pistol was within an arm's-length of Tooly,
aiming steadily at his head. Tooly was yet with pistol in hand but not
quite in position for use of it on his adversary. Van Diveer's
advantage was slight, but sufficient for the occasion. Tooly's
companions did not act, appearing to await his orders, and, in the
suddenness of this phase of the scene, Tooly found no voice for
commands. Others of our men made ready on the instant, believing that
a battle was on.
It was averted, however. Tooly replaced his pistol in the holster,
saying:
"Well, of course--as you say, my pie is over yonder. I don't want to
kill _you_ fellows."
And he didn't. The three rode over to the other group of our men,
among whom was Mr. Wood. All of these had overheard what had just been
said, and felt sure they knew what was coming.
Mr. Wood, grief-stricken, disabled, stood, pale and fearful, amongst
the party of timid emigrants, all strangers to him; he the only man
probably in the camp without a weapon on his person, his torn arm in
a sling across his chest.
The big fellow made his statement again, as he had made it to us; with
the same emphatic threat to kill, if he could induce Wood or any one
to speak out and affirm the charge of Tooly's complicity with the
Indians.
Tooly got off his horse and, pistol in hand, walked among the party;
many of whom surely did tremble in their boots. He declared again, as
he stalked about, that he would shoot the hapless Wood, "like a dog",
or any one who would repeat the charge.
There were but a few men in that part of the camp when Tooly commenced
this second tirade, in the presence of Wood; but soon more came from
the other part of the train.
Mr. Wood, in a condition as helpless as if with hands and feet bound,
realizing his situation, and his responsibility, maintained silence: a
silence more eloquent than speech, since a single word from him in
confirmation of the charge he had made would have precipitated a
battle, in which he, most certainly, and probably others, including
some of his benefactors, would have been killed.
Then Tooly saw that a goodly number of men had arrived from the other
section of the camp, and were watching to see what would happen; some
of these viewing the scene with attitude and looks that boded no good
for the man who held the center of the arena.
Tooly's threatening talk ceased. Still Wood said nothing. In silence,
Tooly mounted his horse, and with his fellows rode away, leaving the
party of emigrants--most of them terror-stricken, some angry--standing
dumb, looking at one another, and at the retreating three until they
went out of sight, in the dusk of the desert night-fall: stood there
on the sage-brush sward, a tableau of silent dumbfoundedness; for how
long none knew; each waiting for something to break the spell.
"I feel like a fool," exclaimed Van Diveer.
"But," spoke Drennan, the older and more conservative leader of their
party, "we couldn't start an open battle with those fellows without
some of us being killed. They are gone; we should be glad that they
are. It is better to bear the insult than have even one of our people
shot."
"I'm glad they left no bullets in me--
Ulee, ilee, aloo, ee;
Courting, down in Tennessee."
This paraphrasing of his favorite ditty was, of course, perpetrated by
"Jack."
But we all wished we knew. Was it true that these men were
conspirators with the Indians who had been ravaging the emigrant
trains? If so, doubtless they would be concerned in other and
possibly much more disastrous assaults, and perhaps soon. If so, who
would be the next victims?
But Mr. Wood was still too indefinite in his identification of the man
Tooly--at least in his statement of it--to clear away all doubt, or
even, as yet, to induce the majority of our men to act on the judgment
of some: that we should follow these plainsmen, learn more, and have
it out with them.
There were many circumstances pointing not only to the connection of
these men with the assault on Mr. Wood's family, but to the
probability of their having been responsible for the slaughter of the
Holloway party. It seemed improbable that there were two bands of
Indians operating along that part of the Humboldt River in the looting
of emigrant trains. If it could be proved that white men co-operated
with the savages in the Wood case, the inference would be strong that
the same white men had been accessories in the Holloway massacre. The
use of guns in those attacks, and the evident abundance of ammunition
in the hands of the Indians, went far toward proving the connection of
white men with both these cases.