Read Ebook: The vigilantes of Montana; Or popular justice in the Rocky Mountains Being a correct and impartial narrative of the chase trial capture and execution of Henry Plummer's road agent band together with accounts of the lives and crimes of many of the robbers by Dimsdale Thos J Thomas Josiah

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During the week, Bill Hunter came to Hank, and pretended that he had said something against him. To this Hank replied, that he knew what he was after, and added, "If you want anything, you can get it right straight along." Not being able "to get the drop on him," and finding that he could not intimidate him, he turned and went off, never afterwards speaking to Hank.

Hank went, at once, to his boarding house, and taking his double-barrelled shot gun, prepared to go out, intending to find and kill Plummer at sight. He was perfectly aware that all attempts at pacification would be understood as indications of cowardice, and would render his death a mere question of the goodness of Plummer's ammunition. Friends, however, interfered, and Hank could not get away till after they left, late in the evening.

Hank started and hunted industriously for Plummer, who was himself similarly employed, but they did not happen to meet.

The next morning, Hank's friends endeavored to prevail upon him to stay within doors until noon; but it was of no avail. He knew what was before him, and that it must be settled, one way or the other. Report came to him, that Plummer was about to leave town, which at once put him on his guard. The attempt to ensnare him into a fatal carelessness was too evident.

Taking his gun, he went up town, to the house of a friend--Buz Caven. He borrowed Buz's rifle, without remark, and stood prepared for emergencies. After waiting some time, he went down to the butcher's shop which he kept, and saw Plummer frequently; but he always had somebody close beside him, so that, without endangering another man's life, Hank could not fire.

He finally went out of sight, and sent a man to compromise, saying they would agree to meet as strangers. He would never speak to Crawford, and Crawford should never address him. Hank was too wary to fall into the trap. He sent word back to Plummer that he had broken his word once, and that his pledge of honor was no more than the wind, to him; that one or the other had to suffer or leave.

The account of the troubles of one man, which we have given above, has been inserted with the object of showing the state of society which could permit such openly planned and persistent outrages, and which necessitated such a method of defense. Crawford, or any of the others, might as well have applied to the Emperor of China, for redress or protection, as to any civil official.

The ball which struck Plummer in the arm ran down his bone, and lodged in the wrist. After his execution, it was found brightened by the constant friction of the joint. His pistol hand being injured for belligerent purposes, though the limb was saved by the skill of the attendant physician--Plummer practiced assiduously at drawing and shooting with his left; attaining considerable proficiency; but he never equalled the deadly activity and precision he had acquired with the other hand, which he still preferred to use.

A CALENDAR OF CRIMES.

The murderer's curse, the dead man's fixed still glare, And fears and death's cold sweat, they all are there.

Others connected with the mock trial which we have described, fared badly, being waylaid and cruelly beaten. Mr. Ellis, the principal witness was dogged every time he went to, or returning from his claim, and finally was compelled to return to the States. He was followed to Fort Benton, a distance of three hundred miles, escaping death at the hands of his pursuers by slipping away secretly down the river, and hiding till the steamer came past, when springing joyfully from his place of concealment, and hailing her, he was taken on board.

N. P. Langford was an especial object of hatred to them. They had counted on his favoring them, at the trial, because he voted for a jury; but when they found that his ballot was cast for the death penalty, they vowed vengeance against him, and a gentleman, his particular friend. The latter could never go to his claim without a loaded gun and a revolver. Once, the roughs had the plot all completed for the assassination of Mr. Langford; but accident revealed their preparations and intentions, and, through the timely warning of a friend, the conspiracy failed. The combination of the comrades of the two gentlemen, which embraced the order loving of the community, was too strong to be openly defied by the roughs. The danger of sudden surprise and assassination was, however, continued.

One day, as Langford's friends were sauntering down Main street, he saw Plummer approaching. He immediately drew a small bowie knife from his belt, and began to whittle a billet of wood, which he picked up for the purpose. Soon he came face to face with Plummer, who, looking with suspicious intelligence at the weapon, asked: "Why do you begin to whittle when you meet me?" The citizen regarding him with a stern and determined look, promptly answered: "Mr. Plummer, you know what opinion I hold concerning you and your friends, and I don't never intend to let you get the advantage of me. I don't want to be shot down like a dog."

Finding that Mitchell had not gone away from town, a great many citizens thought it would be the height of injustice to keep Moore and Reeves away at Hell Gate, where the snow prevented the passage of the mountains, and, on Sunday, a miners' meeting was called, at which their sentence was remitted, by vote, and they accordingly came back.

An attempt had also been made, before this to rob the store of Messrs. Higgins & Worden, of Deer Lodge; but the proprietors got word in time to hide the safe.

The Walla Walla Express was robbed by the band of Road Agents. Plummer directed this affair, and it is thought Long John had some share in it. The men actually engaged in it are not known.

A Mr. Davenport and his wife were going to Benton, from Bannack, intending to proceed by steamboat to the States. While taking a lunch at Rattlesnake, a man masked in black suddenly came out of the willows, near which they were camped, and demanded their money. Davenport said he had none; the fellow laughed, and replied that his wife had, and named the amount. A slight application of a Colt's corkscrew, which was pointed at Davenport's head, brought forth his money, and he was ordered, on pain of death, not to go back to Bannack at once; but to leave his wife somewhere ahead. This Davenport promised, and performed, after which he returned, and obtained some money from the citizens to assist him in his necessity. His wife proceeded to the States, where she arrived in safety. Davenport never knew who robbed him.

The house of a Frenchman, named Le Grau, who kept a bakery and blacksmith shop at the back of Main street, Bannack, was broken into, and everything that could be found was stolen, after which the robbers threw the curtains into a heap and tried to burn down the house, but they failed in this. The greater part of the owner's money was, fortunately, hidden, and that they missed.

We have before spoken of Geo. Carrhart. He was a remarkably handsome man, well educated, and it has been asserted that he was a member of one of the Western Legislatures. His manners were those of a gentleman, when he was sober; but an unfortunate love of whiskey had destroyed him. On one or two occasions, when inebriated, he had ridden up and down the street, with a shot-gun in his hand, threatening everybody. He was extremely generous to a friend, and would make him a present of a horse, an interest in a Ranch, or indeed, of anything that he thought he needed. His fondness for intoxicating liquors threw him into bad company, and caused his death.

One day, while sleeping in Skinner's saloon, a young man of acknowledged courage, named Dick Sap, was playing "poker" with George Banefield, a gambler, whose love of money was considerably in excess of his veneration for the eighth commandment. For the purpose of making a "flush," this worthy stole a card. Sap at once accused him of cheating, on which he jumped up, drew his revolver, and leveled at Sap, who was unarmed. A friend supplied the necessary weapon, and quick as thought, Sap and Banefield exchanged all their shots, though, strange to say, without effect, so far as they were personally concerned.

The quarrel was arranged after some little time, and then it was found that Buz Caven's dog, "Toodles," which was under the table, had been struck by three balls, and lay there dead. A groan from Carrhart attracted attention, and his friends looking at him, discovered that he had been shot through the bowels, accidentally, by Banefield. Instantly Moore called to Reeves and Forbes, who were present, "Boys, they have shot Carrhart; let's kill them," and raising his pistol, he let fly twice at Sap's head. Sap threw up his hands, having no weapon, and the balls came so close that they cut one little finger badly, and just grazed the other hand. The road agents fired promiscuously into the retreating crowd, one ball wounding a young man, Goliath Reilly, passing through his heel. Banefield was shot below the knee, and felt his leg numbed and useless. He, however, dragged himself away to a place of security, and was attended by a skillful physician; but, refusing to submit to amputation, he died of mortification.

In proof of the insecurity of life and property in places where such desperadoes as Plummer, Stinson, Ray and Skinner make their headquarters, the following incident may be cited:

Late in the Spring of '63, Winnemuck, a warrior chief of the Bannacks, had come in with his band, and had camped in the brush, about three-fourth of a mile above the town. Skinner and the roughs called a meeting, and organized a band for the purpose of attacking and murdering the whole tribe. The leaders, however, got so drunk that the citizens became ashamed, and drooped off by degrees, till they were so few that the enterprise was abandoned. A half-breed had in the meantime, warned Winnemuck, and the wily old warrior lost no time in preparing for the reception of the party. He sent his squaws and pappooses to the rear, and posted his warriors, to the number of three or four hundred, on the right side of a canyon, in such a position that he could have slaughtered the whole command at his ease. This he fully intended to do, if attacked, and also to have sacked the town and killed every white in it. This would have been an achievement requiring no extraordinary effort, and had not the drunkenness of the outlaws defeated their murderous purpose, would undoubtedly have been accomplished. In fact, the men whom the Vigilantes afterwards executed, were ripe for any villainy, being Godless, fearless, worthless, and a terror to the community.

In June of the same year, the report came in that Joe Carrigan, William Mitchell, Joe Brown, Smith, Indian Dick, and four others had been killed by the Indians, whom they had pursued to recover stolen stock, and that overtaking them, they had dismounted and fired into their tepees. The Indians attacked them when their pieces were emptied, killed the whole nine, and took their stock.

Old Snag, a friendly chief, came into Bannack with his band, immediately after this report. One of the tribe--a brother-in-law of Johnny Grant, of Deer Lodge--was fired at by Haze Lyons, to empty his revolver, for luck, on general principles, or for his pony--it is uncertain which. A number of citizens, thinking it was an Indian fight, ran out, and joined in the shooting. The savage jumped from his horse, and, throwing down his blanket, ran for his life, shouting "Good Indian." A shot wounded him in the hip. But, though badly hurt, he climbed up the mountain and got away, still shouting as he ran, "Good Indian," meaning that he was friendly to the whites. Carroll, a citizen of Bannack, had a little Indian girl living with him, and Snag had called in to see her. Carroll witnessed the shooting we have described, and running in, he informed Snag, bidding him and his son ride off for their lives. The son ran out and jumped on his horse. Old Snag stood in front of the door, on the edge of the ditch, leaning upon his gun, which was in a sole leather case. He had his lariet in his hand, and was talking to his daughter, Jemmy Spence's squaw, named Catherine. Buck Stinson, without saying a word, walking to within four feet of him, and drawing his revolver, shot him in the side. The Indian raised his right hand and said, "Oh! don't." The answer was a ball in the neck, accompanied by the remark, enveloped in oaths, "I'll teach you to kill whites," and then again he shot him through the head. He was dead when the first citizen attracted by the firing, ran up. Carroll, who was standing at the door, called out, "Oh don't shoot into the house; you'll kill my folks." Stinson turned quickly upon him and roared out, with a volley of curses, topped off with the customary expletive form of address adopted by the roughs, "Put in your head, or I'll shoot the top of it off." Cyrus Skinner came up and scalped the Indian. The band scattered in flight. One who was behind, being wounded, plunged into the creek, seeking to escape, but was killed as he crawled up the bank, and fell among the willows. He was also scalped. The remainder of them got away, and the chief's son, checking his horse at a distance, waved to the men who had killed his father to come on for a fight, but the bullets beginning to cut the ground about him, he turned his horse and fled.

The scalp of old Snag, the butchered chief, now hangs in a Banking House, in Salt Lake City.

We have recorded a few, among many, of the crimes and outrages that were daily committed in Bannack. The account is purposely literal and exact. It is not pleasant to write of blasphemous and indecent language, or to record foul and horrible crimes; but as the anatomist must not shrink from the corpse, which taints the air, as he investigates the symptoms and examines the results of disease, so, the historian must either tell the truth for the instruction of mankind, or sink to the level of a mercenary pander, who writes, not to inform the people, but to enrich himself.

PERILS OF THE ROAD.

"I'll read you matter deep and dangerous, As full of peril and adventurous spirit, As to o'erwalk a current, roaring loud, On the unsteadfast footing of a spear."--SHAK.

On the 14th day of November, 1863, Sam. T. Hauser, and N. P. Langford started for the States, in company with seven or eight freighters. Owing to some delay in their preparations, they were not ready to start at the hour proposed and after considerable urging, they prevailed upon one of the freighters to delay his departure till five o'clock P. M. representing to him that by driving during part of the night, they would be enabled to overtake the rest of the train at Horse Prairie, where they were to camp for the night. These arrangements were all made at the store of George Chrisman, where Plummer had his office, and consequently their plans for departure were all known to this arch-villain.

During that afternoon, it was reported in Bannack that a silver lode had been discovered, and Plummer, whose residence in Nevada had given him some reputation as a judge of silver ores, was requested to go out and examine it. Plummer had, on several occasions, been sent for to go out and make minute examinations, and it had never been surmised that his errands on these occasions were different from what they purported to be. This notice to Plummer that a "silver lode" had been discovered, was the signal that the occasion demanded the presence of the chief of the gang, who was needed to head some marauding expedition that required a skillful leader, and promised a rich booty as the reward of success. Plummer always obeyed it, and in this instance, left Bannack a little while after noon, taking a northerly direction, towards Rattlesnake; but, after getting out of town, he changed his course and went south, towards Horse Prairie.

Before leaving Bannack, he presented Mr. Hauser with a woolen scarf, telling him that he would "find it useful on the journey these cold nights."

The two gentlemen did not complete their arrangements for starting till half past seven in the evening; and, as they were about leaving Hauser's cabin, a splash, caused by the fall of some heavy body in the water, and calls for assistance were heard from the brow of the hill, south of Bannack. Upon going to the spot, it was found that Henry Tilden, in attempting to cross the Bannack Ditch, had missed the bridge, and his horse had fallen upon him in the water. On being relieved from his dangerous situation, he went to the house of Judge Edgerton, and reported that he had been robbed by three men--one of whom was Plummer--between Horse Prairie and Bannack. After he had detailed the circumstances, the greatest anxiety was felt for the safety of Messrs. Langford and Hauser, who, it was generally supposed had started at five o'clock on the same road.

The unconscious wayfarers, however, knew nothing of the matter, but they were, nevertheless, on the alert all the time. Hauser had that morning communicated to his friend Langford, his suspicion that they were being watched, and would be followed by the road agents, with the intention of plundering them, and while Langford was loading his gun with twelve revolver balls in each barrel, George Dart asked him why he was "filling the gun-barrel so full of lead;" to which Langford replied, that if they had any trouble with the road agents, it would be on that night. So well satisfied were they that an attack upon them, was contemplated, that they carried their guns in their hands, ready cocked, throughout the whole journey to Horse Prairie, a distance of twelve miles, but they saw nothing of the ruffians who robbed young Tilden.

It is supposed that Plummer and his gang had concluded that the non-appearance of the party was owing to the knowledge of what had happened in the afternoon, and that they were not coming out at all, that night. This is the more probable, from the fact that Tilden arrived home in time to have communicated the story of his robbery to them before they started, and the freighter with whom they took passage had told them that morning, in the presence of Plummer, that he would leave them behind if they were not ready to start by five o'clock P. M. It is not to be thought that Plummer would have risked a chance of missing them, by robbing Tilden of so small an amount as , unless he had felt sure that they would start at the time proposed. It is also likely that, as his intended victims did not make their appearance, he feared that the citizens of Bannack might turn out in search of the Road Agents who had attacked Tilden, and that it would be prudent to return home by a circuitous route, which he did. One thing is certain. When they missed them, Plummer went, in hot haste, to Langford's boarding house, to inquire whether he was gone, and on receiving an answer in the affirmative, rode off at once in pursuit.

In the wagon with Langford and Hauser, was a third passenger--a stranger to the rest of the party--who had sent forward his blankets by one of the vehicles which left at noon, and on his arrival at camp, he found them appropriated by some of the party, who had given up all ideas of seeing the others before morning, and had laid down for the night.

Rather than disturb the sleepers, Langford directed his fellow traveller, who was in delicate health, to occupy the wagon with Hauser, while he himself took a buffalo robe and made a bedstead of mother earth.

The night was a cold one, and becoming chilled through Langford arose and at first walked briskly up and down by the camp, in order to warm himself. After awhile, he turned his steps towards the creek, which was about one hundred and fifty yards distant, but with the instinctive caution engendered by a residence in the mountains, he armed himself with his trusty "double-barrel," and then, with his thoughts wandering to other scenes and other days, he slowly sauntered by the rippling waters.

His musings were brought to a sudden close by the murmur of voices, born on the breeze, accompanied by the well known tramp of horses at speed. The banks of the rivulet were lined with willows, and lay in deep shadow, except where an opening in the thicket disclosed the prairie that lay beyond, sleeping peacefully in the moonlight. Drawing aside the bushes he saw three mounted men in the act of passing one of these avenues, at the gallop. Roused to a sense of danger, he cocked his gun and followed them down stream, to a place where an interval between the thickets that lined both sides of the creek gave him a good sight of the night rangers, and stood in full view, his piece lying in the hollow of his hand, ready for instant service.

As soon as he emerged from the shelter of the willows, and the horsemen became aware of his presence, they stopped for a few moments, and then bore away down the valley, determined to see the end of the matter, and having the brush for cover, while his friends were still within hail, if needed, the watcher pushed on for about two hundred yards and wading to the other bank, he had no sooner reached the top, than he saw four men at that moment mounting their horses. No sooner did they observe him than they drove their spurs into their horses' flanks, and started on a run for Bannack. These men were Plummer, Buck Stinson, Ned Ray and George Ives, who, on their return to the town by another road, after the robbery of Tilden, having found, as before related, that Langford and Hauser had really gone--followed at once upon their track.

But for the providential circumstances connected with the chance appropriation of the blankets, and the consequent sleeping of Langford on the ground, together with his accidental appearance with his gun in his hand, as if on guard--the whole party would have been murdered, as it was known to their pursuers that they had a considerable amount of treasure with them.

The scarf which Plummer presented to Hauser was given for the purpose of enabling the cunning robber to identify his man by night.

It is a somewhat singular coincidence that Plummer was hung on the next birth day of Hauser,

The party proceeded on their journey without interruption, and on their arrival at Salt Lake City, they were besieged by their acquaintances with inquiries concerning several parties who were known to have preceded them on the road thither by about a week; but the unfortunate objects of their solicitude never reached their destination, or were afterwards heard of. They sleep in bloody graves; but where, how, and when they met their death, at the hands of the Road Agents, will probably never be known. The fate that could not be avoided was, nevertheless avenged.

THE REPULSE.

"Though few the numbers--theirs the strife, That neither spares nor speaks for life."--BYRON.

In the present and succeeding chapters, will be found accounts of actual experiences with Road Agents, in the practice of their profession. The exact chronological order of the narrative has, in these cases, been broken in upon, that the reader may have a correct notion of what an attack by Road Agents usually was. We shall show at a future time what it too often became when bloodshed was added to rapine. As the facts related are isolated, the story is not injured by the slight anachronism.

In the entire caravan there was probably from ,000 to ,000 in gold, and it must not be supposed that such a splendid prize could escape the lynx-eyed vigilance of the Road Agents.

Plummer engaged Dutch John and Steve Marshland for the job, and his selection was not a bad one, so far as Dutch John was concerned, for a more courageous, stalwart or reckless desperado never threw spurs on the flanks of a cayuse, or cried "Halt!" to a true man. Steve Marshland was a bold fellow when once in action; but he preferred what mountaineers call a "soft thing," to an open onslaught. This unprofessional weakness not only saved the lives of several whom we are proud to call friends, but ensured his own and his friends capture and death, at the hands of the Vigilantes.

The Robbers did not expect to come upon them so soon, and were not masked. But for this fact, and the sight of the weapons on hand for use, if required, the train would have been relieved of the responsibility attaching to freighting treasure in those days, without any delay.

Little did the party imagine that the safety of their property and their lives hung upon a thread, and that, the evening before, the "prudence" of Steve Marshland had saved six or eight of the party from unexpected death. Yet so it was. Wagner and Marshland had followed their trail, and hitching their steeds to the bush, with their double-barrelled guns loaded with buckshot, and at full cock, they crawled up to within fifteen feet of the camp, and leisurely surveyed them by the light of the fire. The travellers lay around in perfect ignorance of the proximity of the Road Agents; their guns were everywhere but where they ought to be, and without a sentry to warn them of the approach of danger, they carelessly exposed themselves to death, and their property to seizure.

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