Calling the watchman, Cox, and accompanied still by his masked guard, Boyd went to the vault and began to work the combination that opened it. Before giving the last twist, however, he turned to his silent captors, and said:
“You have heard the pledge given by your captain, or chief, or whatever you call him, in relation to the keys; have I your words of honor also?”
They bowed a grim assent, and a moment later the bolt shot back and the iron door turned on its hinges. Taking the keys the official entered the jail and locked Murphy up. As he passed the cells containing two burglars, they begged to be released, fearing lest the vigilantes would also make an example of them. Boyd assured them that they would not be harmed, or at least he would do all in his power to protect them.
In the meantime cold chisels had cut into the cell padlocks, and sledge hammers completed the job. Woodruff was on his feet and showed fight, but his visitors were determined men, and the cold-blooded murderer was soon rendered docile, a few raps with the butt of a revolver being administered on the top of his head. He was carried out and laid upon his stomach on the floor, his face resting upon his left side, while skillful and willing hands bound his wrists together behind his back. As he was being taken from his cell he made but one remark:
“Gentlemen, you are mistaken. I am innocent of this crime.”
When the tying was completed he was lifted up to a sitting posture and asked for the captain, referring to Boyd, and that officer immediately came forward.
Laying hand upon the shoulder of the prisoner, Boyd said:
“Well, Woodruff, what can I do for you?”
Woodruff raised his dark eyes to the kindly face above him, and with a low voice, inexpressibly sad and full of feeling, said:
“Captain, write to my wife—and to my brother, and tell them all about this, will you? Don’t forget it. Write to (and a name was given which the officer forgets) and tell him to avenge my death—he’ll do it.”