These surroundings, terrible to a guilty conscience, were not alleviated by the frequent interruptions of Beachy and Ankeny, who, to all outward seeming, were closely comparing the statements of Page with those of his companions. The confession thus obtained bore internal evidence of truthfulness; and, when it was finished, Page entreated Beachy not to return him to the room with the other prisoners.
“They will kill me if they suspect me of betraying them,” said he, “and the fact that we have all been requested to confess will make them suspicious.”
Page was heavily ironed, and confined in a separate room on the side of the hall opposite the room occupied by the other prisoners, who, in the seeming severity with which he was treated, received the impression that he was singled out as the real criminal. Acting under Beachy’s instructions, Page occasionally stood in the doorway of his apartment, so that the other prisoners could see him, and they improved these opportunities by making significant signs to him to be silent. Howard would break out into a song, into which he would improvise words of caution for Page to observe. At length, at their own request, the prisoners were occasionally permitted to perambulate the hall, and at those times opportunity was given to converse with Page. They finally would enter his room, and in a conversation with him, while, as he supposed, he was enjoying one of these stolen interviews, Beachy heard Lowry tell Page that the body of Brother Jonathan—meaning Magruder—could never be found, whether the others were or not. It was a great satisfaction to Beachy to learn, from this and several other little incidents that occurred while the murderers were in custody, that he had made no mistake in arresting them.
Twenty-four hours before the trial, the prisoners, as required by the laws of Idaho, were served with a copy of the indictment found against them, with a list of witnesses, in which it appeared that the charge was substantiated by the testimony of Page. This was the first intimation they had that he was to be received as State’s evidence. Lowry read enough of the indictment to learn this fact. Handing it to Beachy, he exclaimed with an oath,
“I have read far enough. If old Page is to testify, the jig is up. I don’t wish to know any more.”
More than a hundred persons summoned as jurors were rejected in selecting an impartial jury. Good counsel was provided for the prisoners; and after a careful and protracted trial, in which no legal effort was spared both to convict and to defend, the prisoners were found guilty, and sentenced to be hanged on the fourth day of March, 1864, six weeks after the trial.
During this interval, they were confined in their old quarters, where they received every attention from Mr. Beachy and his wife. As the day of expiation drew nigh, both Lowry and Romaine confessed to their participation in the murder, and the truth of Page’s testimony; but Howard denied it to the last.
The scaffold was erected in a basin encircled by abrupt hillsides, from which ten thousand people, including almost the entire Nez Percé tribe of Indians, witnessed the execution.
A few weeks afterwards, Beachy and a few friends, under the guidance of Page, visited the scene of the murder, and returned with the remains of the unfortunate victims, which were decently buried in the cemetery at Lewiston.
Page remained in the employ of Beachy several months—an object of general reproach and execration. A year had little more than elapsed when he became involved in a drunken brawl, and was killed by his adversary.