McDonald argued, and related what he had done in No-man's Land, but to no purpose. A sudden charge might work, over there, the deputy said, where the gangs were bunched, and were surprised before they were awake enough to fight. But it was different over here. The bad men were scattered a mile or so apart and while you might get the drop on one, there 'd be a lot more left to get the drop on you, and you'd be full of lead before sunrise. No-siree, nothing less than soldiers, and plenty of them, would do that job.
McDonald went about the town trying to enlist volunteers. He realized that a scattered gang would require time to corral, and that its members would be likely to be awake and busy, before he got them all in. He did not want a company of soldiers, for such a force would scare the gang and accomplish nothing; but he did want a few quick fearless men for this work. Finally he wired U.S. Marshal Walker at Topeka, Kansas, to come on first train. Walker came, and McDonald explained the situation.
"I've got these men located, and warrants for their arrest," he said, "and now I can't get your deputies or anybody else to give me a hand on the job. It ain't just the sort of a thing I want to do alone, for we ought to get to several of these men's houses simultaneous like, an' I thought you might be able to persuade these boys to come along."
"Certainly," said Walker, "that's all right—they don't know who you are. I'm satisfied from what U.S. Marshal Knight, of Dallas, has written me that you know what you want to do, and how to go at it. I'll get the men together and explain the situation."
They collected about a dozen deputies and posse-men, and Walker explained as agreed. It was no use. The men declared that no small force could go into the Sand Creek neighborhood and come out alive, and nothing short of a squad of trained soldiers would be of any use. McDonald looked them over scornfully. Then he turned to Walker.
"If I had as sorry a lot of men as that," he said, "I'd discharge them on the spot. I'll go out there alone, if I can get a man with nerve enough to drive a hack, and I'll bring back a load of criminals, too."
This was regarded as a bluff. Walker returned to Topeka, and Bill McDonald's fruit-tree expedition began to look like a failure. McDonald, however, was not the sort of a person to whom the words "bluff" and "failure" were likely to apply. He discovered a man presently who agreed to drive a hack, provided he would be asked to do no fighting, and would be allowed to remain out of range.
"If you ever get 'em to the hack and tied, I'll haul 'em," he said, but it was clear that he expected to haul home a dead deputy marshal, instead.
They set out long before daybreak, next morning, with a big three-seater—McDonald with an extra horse—and drove to the home of what was considered the most desperate of the Sand Creek gang—a very hard looking customer who lived with his wife in a dug-out in a small clearing. When they had arrived within about two hundred yards of the place, the driver declared that he was satisfied with his position and did not think it necessary by the terms of his contract to go any closer. It was full early, barely daybreak, and everything was very still. McDonald lost no time, therefore, for a whinny of the horses might rouse the occupants of the dug-out, and with his Winchester cocked stepped across the little clearing and without ceremony pushed open the door. As he did so a woman stepped directly in front of him, calling out a warning to some one behind her. In the dimness of the place McDonald saw a man on a bed in the corner reaching for a gun which lay on the mattress near him. It was no time for manners. With a quick sweep of his gun the officer pushed the woman aside and covered the man on the bed, before he could bring his weapon to bear.
"Drop it," he said. "Drop it or you're a dead man!"