Animated with the hope of an early reunion with his family, Magruder, with his companions, left Bannack one bright autumnal morning, and dashed with his train into the manifold intricacies of the mountain labyrinth. The burden of care with which one is oppressed, while travelling through an uninhabited region, exposed continually to the attacks of Indians and robbers, is always relieved by a sort of wild exhilaration inseparable from the shifting of scenery, and the varied occupations and incidents of the journey. And when day after day passes, without any change in the same monotonous round of employment, men sometimes desire the variety of a brush with the Indians, or a deer chase, or an antelope hunt, to ward off their mental depression. But save an occasional foray upon a herd of antelopes, the train moved safely onward, without impediment. The three ruffians were particularly attentive to the duties required of them, winning golden opinions from those they intended to destroy.
On the evening of the sixth day, the train descended into the valley of the Bitter Root. The lofty range of mountains which now forms the boundary between Montana and Idaho stretched along the horizon displaying alternate reaches illumined by the departing rays of the sun, and darkened by the shadows of overhanging clouds.
“In three days more,” said Magruder, “we shall descend the range into Idaho, and all danger will be over.”
Near the close of the second day thereafter, as the mules were slowly creeping up the trail, when near the summit, Howard rode alongside of Page, and in a tone of fearful earnestness said to him,
“Page, when we go into camp, to-night, drive the mules half a mile away, and remain with them till supper time. We are going to kill Magruder and his four friends. You can help dispose of the bodies when the work is done, and share in the plunder. As you value your own life, you will not breathe a word of this to any one.”
Had a thunderbolt fallen at the feet of Page, he could not have been more terrified. Reckless as his life had been, no stain of blood was on his soul. Gladly would he have warned Magruder, but the fearful threat of Howard was in his way. Besides, as Howard had grown into great favor, he felt that he would not be believed. He decided the conflict with conscience by resolving to follow the directions of the conspirators.
The spot was not unfamiliar. It had been often occupied for camping purposes, and was specially favored with water and pasturage. It was also sheltered by the impenetrable foliage of a clump of dwarf pines and redwoods. Five minutes’ clamber of the vertebrated peak which rose abruptly above the camp-fire, would enable one to survey for many miles the vast volcanic region of mountains, hills, and cañons over which the trail of the traveller, like a dusky thread, stretched on towards Lewiston.
The train drew up on the camping ground a little before dark. The sky was overcast with snow clouds, and the wind blew chill and bleak. Every sign indicated the approach of one of those fearful snowstorms common at all seasons in these high altitudes. All the men except Page, who was with the herd, were gathered around the camp-fire, awaiting supper. As Page, staggering under the burden of his guilty secret, came to the camp in answer to a call to supper, Howard met him, and in an ominous whisper, warned him to retire as soon as his meal was finished, and not to be seen about the camp until he was wanted.
Magruder and Lowry were assigned to stand guard and watch the herd until ten o’clock,—the hour agreed upon for the commission of the crime. Page had built a fire for their accommodation. As they rose to leave the camp, Lowry, picking up an axe, remarked,
“We shall probably need some wood, and I’ll take the axe along.”