But Cook took the town by surprise in his early arrival with the culprit. They were not organized or ready to make a fight for the man, as they had determined that they would be by the regular stage arrival time. However, the approach of the coach was discovered, as the Carr house on Fifteenth street was passed, by some one who cried out: “Here, boys, come; here’s Cook with Duggan; let’s take him!” There was a rush from the hotel, but Gen. Cook ordered the driver to travel for his life. The horses were whipped into a dead run, which was kept up until the Larimer street prison was gained. Notwithstanding this great haste a mob of 500 people had gathered at the jail when it was reached and the driver had almost to plow through it with his team. The door was reached at last, however, and the prisoner, trembling like a leaf in a breeze, was pushed into the jail and turned over to the county authorities.

But that Duggan’s life was not safe even now, all understood perfectly. It was generally believed that he would be lynched. The impression had gotten out that the jail would be assailed some time during the afternoon, and the prisoner taken therefrom and executed, and in consequence of the rumor, about 4 o’clock a crowd of men, women and children lined the sidewalk along both sides of Larimer street from Fifteenth street, even on to the bridge, which was occupied by children principally. They held their position until nearly or quite dark, when thinking that the expected exhibition had been indefinitely postponed, they retired to their homes. They were mistaken in their surmises, as it appears.

It became known in some way that Duggan would be removed from the Larimer street prison to the city jail on Front street some time during the evening, and the mob had concluded to improve the occasion by taking him from the officers and executing him. About 6 o’clock he was taken in an express wagon for the purpose of the proposed transfer. As the wagon left the west end of the bridge a whistle was sounded and immediately answered from the direction of the calaboose. Soon after the wagon crossed the bridge it was surrounded by ninety or a hundred armed men, who demanded a halt, and the surrender of the prisoner, and he was turned over to them without a struggle. Having him in possession they retraced their steps and turned west, to what was then Cherry street, to a point on that street where there stood two or three cottonwood trees, and under one of which the procession halted. The express wagon, which had been taken possession of, was brought to the front, and placed directly under a limb of the tree. In a moment a rope was thrown over the limb, and in another moment Duggan was standing in the wagon immediately under the fatal noose. Some one then told him if he had any remarks to make, to make them, for his time among the living was short. He commenced by asking them to send for a Catholic priest. “I killed a man in the mountains, but it was in self-defense,” he said: “I did not kill the man in the Black Hills; ’twas another fellow that did it.” To the question about having assisted in garroting Squire Brooks, he first said, “I didn’t do it. I have never hurt anybody or stole anything. I have been a bad man, but I am not guilty of anything deserving of hanging.” He frequently asked that a minister should be sent for. “One called this afternoon, but hadn’t time to stay then, but wanted me to send for him if anything happened.”

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Lynching of Duggan in Denver—Fight of Photographers for View of Remains.

Again he was warned that his moments were numbered, and again asked to confess, if he had any confession to make. “I killed the man in the mountains in self-defense and have been tried and acquitted. The man in the Black Hills was killed by another fellow. I never stole anything from anybody. I did assist in robbing Squire Brooks, but I was nearly out of money and had to do it or starve. I only had six or seven dollars, and could not get any any other way. I had to do it or die. I have been a very bad man, but have done nothing to be hanged for. Spare my life; any other punishment. Oh, my poor mother! it will kill her. Don’t let it get to her; send for a Catholic minister.”

His confession or remarks were constantly interrupted by his cries. In fact, in the trying moment he was completely unmanned, crying and sobbing like a baby, and uttering prayers for mercy from Him whose laws he had frequently and repeatedly outraged—a spectacle quite different from that presented by Musgrove. After he had said all that he had to say, the order was heard, “Drive on,” and the wagon which had served as his frail bulwark between life and eternity, moved from under, and the spirit of Sanford S. C. Duggan took its flight to the presence of Him who shall judge us all according to the deeds done in this world. The fall, about eighteen inches, broke his neck. He was a man six feet two or three inches in height and weighed 205 pounds. After the body was cut down it was given in charge of the coroner.