“I have just thrown it away.”
“But have you another one? You don’t come any Wilcox business on us. I will have you searched, and if another weapon is found upon you I will kill you where you stand. Do you understand?”
Slowly Johnson put his hand into an inside pocket and pulled out a revolver with his thumb and forefinger, and threw it upon the ground at his feet.
Clodfelter replied to questions that he had been so badly wounded as to be unable to get his pistol, which was in his pocket. Cook then covered the men with his gun while Smith searched them. Clodfelter was found to be quite seriously wounded, and faint from the loss of blood. He fainted away when the search was completed, and did not recover until a liberal supply of fresh snow had been dashed into his face.
The two men were then mounted upon their horses, and the party of four, officers and prisoners, started into Pueblo.
Looking far off towards the city, they saw a string of horsemen coming towards them, numbering apparently about twenty, and some of them five miles away. These were Sheriff Ellis and his posse, coming to the rescue of the two officers. The first of them had been encountered about half a mile from the scene of the capture, and soon after the sheriff himself was met. Mr. Ellis had started out gallantly at the head of his party. But it must be remembered that the hour was early. The sheriff was a man of regular habits. He had started out very soon after getting his breakfast. He had ridden along for ten miles far in advance of the remainder of his party. He was fast gaining on Cook and Smith, and might eventually have passed them in the chase and have been the first to come up with the flyers. But he was compelled to stop to see other and slower members of his party pass him one by one, and to hear their jeers and hoots. In brief, the same circumstance which prevented the proverbial dog from catching the proverbial rabbit, stepped in to prevent Sheriff Ellis from overtaking the fugitive criminals. Poor fellow! no one enjoyed the joke more than he did. He was a good soul, and loved his fun and his fellow mortals too.
Almost the entire town of Pueblo met the party upon its return, and a cavalcade of fully two hundred men rode into town with them. Johnson was full of bravado, and swore that he and his “pard” would never have been captured had Clodfelter not been shot. As for Clodfelter, he sang another tune entirely. He professed to deeply regret his part in the affair, and time and time again said: “I’m sorry; I only hope they will not hang me.” The tears would start and roll down his face when any one spoke of Charley Wilcox and his wounds, and he often asserted: “I had no enmity to Wilcox; I did it under excitement.” Indeed, he seemed anything but a desperado, and was evidently deeply sensible of the grievous wrong he committed, and suffered as much as any one.
Once on the train after leaving Pueblo, the two men told the story of their flight after the shooting of Wilcox, at Island Station, immediately after which they mounted their horses and rode to Brantner’s. Johnson remained on his horse, while Clodfelter went in and obtained a pair of blankets, and a cap and a coat for Johnson. Clodfelter told Brantner that they had got into trouble, but did not tell him the whole story. They then rode directly to Richard Morris’ ranch, on the Platte, and about a mile from Brantner’s, and inquired for Morris. Not finding him in, they rode on to Jackson farm, about two miles and a half from Morris’, up the Platte, and from there they went to Sopris’ old ranch, at the junction of the Platte and Clear creek.
Here they endeavored to obtain pistols, and then bullets and powder and shot, but did not succeed. They did obtain food. Their course was then straight for the mountains, intending to strike them south of Golden. They reached the foothills about sunrise Sunday morning, about eight miles, as they think, above Platte cañon. They spent most of the day in the mountains, but late in the afternoon came out, went to a ranch about three miles below and obtained feed for the horses and provisions for themselves. They then struck south, and a little before sundown crossed the Platte about a mile below the cañon, intending to strike the southern road. They traveled until about 12 o’clock that night, and after tying their horses laid down on the prairie and slept until morning. They were then on Willow (South Plum) creek, about a mile above Wakeman’s. About 7 o’clock Monday morning they rode to Wakeman’s and got coffee. From there they made south, in a direct line for the foothills, and struck the road running south to Colorado Springs about 3 o’clock in the afternoon. They followed the road for an hour, and then stopped at a house and got supper. They continued along the road, passing Monument and other stations. About 4 o’clock in the morning (Tuesday) they passed through Colorado Springs, and took the road south. Soon they became bewildered, and were uncertain about being on the right road. They descried a ranch and went to a hay-stack and fed their ponies, and discovered the railroad. This assured them, and crossing over to the west side of the track they continued their journey south, crossing the Fountaine about five miles below the ranch, and afterwards crossed back. About twelve miles from Colorado Springs they obtained a dinner and oats for their horses. As they pursued their southerly course, the snow began to fall and impede them. When about one mile from Pueblo, they put up at a ranch for the night, about 10 o’clock in the evening. About 7 o’clock in the morning (Wednesday) they started for Pueblo, and rode down one of the principal streets, when they were discovered. Not until they were close to the bridge did they imagine they were pursued, and then only from the peculiar action of two men on foot and two others on horseback.
Both men denied that Johnson said, “You know what I did for you once.” They declared all that was said was, “You know what I’ve done,” meaning the shooting at Wilcox, and hence requesting Clodfelter to help him out of the scrape.