“We have not,” was the prompt reply.
“We were told by some half-breeds we met,” said Marshland, “that our animals were running with your train, and we rode on, hoping to find them.”
“It’s a mistake,” was the answer, “we have no horses but our own.”
With this assurance the robbers professed to be satisfied, and galloped on.
These successive failures only strengthened the villains in their determination to rob the train. They awaited its arrival in Red Rock Valley two days after leaving it, with the intention of attacking it there, at the hour of going into camp. When near the summit of the ridge which divides the waters of the Red Rock from those of Junction Creek, the packers, according to custom, rode on ahead of the wagons to select a suitable stopping-place for the night. Three or four men only were left in charge of the teams. The robbers supposed that the treasure was hidden away in some of the carpet-sacks in the wagons, now near the top of the divide. The brisk pace of the pack-horses soon took them out of sight and hearing of their companions in the rear. Assured of this, the robbers, disguised in hoods and blankets, dashed out of a ravine in front of the wagons, and in a peremptory tone, covering the drivers with their shotguns, commanded them to halt. Gathering the drivers together, they ordered them not to move, at their peril; and while Dutch John sat upon his horse, with his gun aimed at them, Marshland dismounted, and engaged in a speedy search of both drivers and vehicles. Unperceived by the robbers, Moody had slipped a revolver into the leg of his boot. He also had a hundred dollars concealed in a pocket of his shirt, which escaped notice. The other drivers had no money on their persons. After disposing of the men, Marshland went to the wagons, where he was fortunate enough to find the carpet-sack containing the letters in which were enclosed the fifteen hundred dollars in greenbacks. Pocketing this, and still intent upon finding the gold, he proceeded to the rear wagon, which fortunately was occupied by Forbes and a sick comrade. As soon as Marshland climbed to the single-tree, Forbes, who had been in wait for him, fired his revolver through a hole in the curtain, wounding him in the breast. With an oath and yell, the robber fell to his knees, but recovering himself, jumped from the wagon, fell a second time, regained his feet, and ran with the agility of a deer to the pine forest. Dutch John’s horse, frightened at the shot, reared just as its rider discharged both barrels of his shotgun at the teamsters. The shot whizzed just above their heads. Moody now drew his revolver from his boot, and opened fire upon the retreating figure of Dutch John, the ball taking effect in his shoulder. Urging his horse to its utmost speed, John was soon beyond reach of pursuit; but had Moody followed him on the instant, he might have brought him down. The packers who had gone into camp, were no less gratified to hear of the successful repulse, than astonished at the bold attack of the freebooters. Marshland’s horse, arms, equipage, and twenty pounds of tea, of which he had rifled a Mormon train a few days before, were confiscated upon the spot.
Rockfellow and two other packers rode back to the scene of the robbery, where, striking Marshland’s trail, they followed it, searching for him till eleven o’clock. He admitted afterwards, when captured, that they were at one time within fifteen feet of him. They found, scattered along the route, all the packages of greenbacks he had taken. He gained nothing by his attack, was badly wounded, froze both his feet on his retreat to Deer Lodge, and lost his horse, arms, and provisions. Both of Dutch John’s hands were frozen, but he was fortunate in meeting J. X. Beidler, who bound them up for him, not knowing at the time the villain’s occupation. “X,” as he is called by all the mountaineers, always accounted this kindly act to the retreating ruffian as a stroke of bad fortune. “Had I only known,” says he when telling the story, “I would have bandaged his hands with something stronger than a handkerchief.”
The serious part of the transaction being over, our wayfarers had abundant sport for the remainder of their long journey, in determining the rights of the respective claimants to the booty. Forbes claimed Marshland’s horse and accoutrements, because it was his shot that caused the robber to take flight. Moody insisted upon his right to an equal share, in compensation for the wounds he gave Dutch John. The two teamsters set up a claim, upon the principle that all ships in sight are entitled to a share in the prize. If steersmen represented schooners at sea, teamsters were the proper representatives of “prairie schooners.” The subject was debated at every camp made on the journey, and finally determined by electing a judge from their number, impanelling a jury, and going through all the forms of a regular trial. The verdict gave Forbes the possession of the property on payment of thirty dollars to Moody, and twenty dollars to each of the teamsters. The party arrived at Salt Lake City without further molestation.
CHAPTER XXIX
GEORGE IVES
George Ives, whose name is already familiarized to the readers of this history, by the prominent part he acted in the robberies of the coach, and the contemplated attack upon Hauser and the writer, was at the time regarded as the most formidable robber of the band with which he was connected. The boldness of his acts, and his bolder enunciation of them, left no doubt in the public mind as to his guilt. But the people were not yet ripe for action; and, while Ives and his comrades in crime were yet free to prosecute their plans for murder and robbery, the miners and traders were content, if let alone, to pursue their several occupations. The condition of society was terrible. Not a day passed unmarked by crimes of greater or lesser enormity. The crisis was seemingly as distant as ever. Men hesitated to pass between the towns on the gulch after nightfall, nor even in mid-day did they dare to carry upon their persons any larger amounts in gold dust than were necessary for current purposes. If a miner happened to leave the town to visit a neighboring claim, he was fortunate to escape robbery on the way. And if the amount he had was small, he was told that he would be killed unless he brought more the next time. Often wayfarers were shot at, sometimes killed, and sometimes wounded.
During this period, it was a custom with George Ives, when in need of money, to mount his horse, and, pistol in hand, ride into a store or saloon, toss his buckskin purse upon the counter, and request the proprietor or clerk to put one or more ounces of gold dust in it “as a loan.” The man thus addressed dare not refuse. Often, while the person was weighing the levy, the daring shoplifter would amuse himself by firing his revolver at the lamps and such other articles of furniture as would make a crash. This was frequently done for amusement. It became so common that it attracted little or no attention, and people submitted to it, under the conviction that there was no remedy.