"Now, you bring him and his gang down here to arrest me for contempt of court, I suppose—you, and your district attorney, after you both told me that I had a full right to enter the post and use such means as was necessary to bring those criminals to justice. Looks like as soon as I get things started and some of the guilty men locked up, the law is all changed and you come here demanding my warrants, and expect to put me in jail if I don't give them up-is that it?"
Judge Welch assumed an air of superior virtue.
"I'm not afraid to do my duty," he blustered.
"Nor I," said Captain Bill, "so fly at it!"
There was more applause then, of course. It was the moment of the dramatic climax—the instant for a telegram from the governor, upholding the position of Captain Bill and putting his enemies to rout. The stage machinery was perfect, too, for a telegram did indeed come at that moment, only, instead of sustaining the chief actor in the drama, it cut the ground from under his feet. Captain Bill took the yellow envelope from the messenger, opened it and read the contents. There were just two sentences. The first was equivocal and meant nothing. The last meant surrender and humiliation.
"Austin, Texas, August 24, 1906.
"To Captain W.J. McDonald, Brownsville, Texas.
"Have requested Gen. McCaskey to prevent removal of soldiers charged with recent murder. Consult district judge and sheriff and act under and through them.
"Signed,
"S.W.T. Lanham, Governor."
After all, it requires defeat to reveal true greatness. Few they are who with the eyes of the multitude upon them can stand with calm eye and steady nerve, unmoved and unfaltering, when the last support is snatched away. It was all at an end, now; all his effort had gone for little or nothing—his final hope had failed. But those watching him could not have told that the crushing blow had fallen. He folded the telegram with a hand that betrayed not the slightest tremor, and with a voice that was entirely steady, and even pleasant, he said:
"Well, Judge, if nothing else will do you, I am ready, now, to give you my warrant for those prisoners. Major Penrose has the other copy and is holding them with it. I can get along, I guess, without a warrant. The train won't leave until tomorrow morning, for the men in charge are instructed not to leave until I say so, and I don't intend to say so, to-night."
The crowd that had been still and breathless during the last few moments, gave a great round of applause at this, and the drama was over.
Captain McDonald still had a very small hope that affairs might take a turn before morning, and all night, with his little army, he patroled the entrance of the fort to see that the prisoners were not moved. That a battle would have followed any such attempt there is not the least doubt. He withdrew all interference next morning, and the train carrying the troops, including the prisoners, left about six o'clock, for San Antonio. The prisoners were taken to Fort Sam Houston, the remainder of the command to Fort Rena, Oklahoma. When the final investigations took place, the man who, according to Major Blocksom, had been willing to "charge hell with a bucket of water," in the cause of justice and duty, was lying ill—the result of his old wounds combined with the misery of unfair treatment. Sergeant McCauley, who was ready with all the evidence, was invited to testify, and did so, but not a single indictment was found by officials, civil or military. The "conspiracy of silence was complete."[17]