“Who did it?” inquired John.
“Oh, the Virginia and Nevada people.”
“Did they find out anything?”
“They found out some things,” said Beidler, “and are now after the robbers of Moody’s train. One of them, Dutch John, was shot, and I expect to find him dead upon the trail. If I do, I shall confiscate his leggings, for I need a pair very much.”
“Would you take his leggings if you found him?” inquired Dutch John.
“Of course I would, if he was dead,” said Beidler.
They continued to chat till late in the evening, passing the night together, Beidler never suspecting him to be the robber he was in pursuit of. The next morning Beidler dressed John’s frozen hands, and they separated.
The next day, while making his way through Beaver Cañon, John was seen and recognized by Captain Wall and Ben Peabody, who were encamped there by stress of weather, with a pack train, en route to Salt Lake. They saw him and the Indian take shelter in a vacant cabin at no great distance beyond their camp, and went immediately with the information to John Fetherstun, who was also near at hand with eight teams and drivers, awaiting an abatement of the temperature. Fetherstun recommended that John should be hanged to one of the logs projecting from the end of the cabin. Wall and Peabody wanted him to be returned to Bannack. Being unable to agree, Wall and Peabody proceeded down the road to the camp of Neil Howie, who was on his return from Salt Lake City, in charge of three wagons laden with groceries and flour. If they had searched the world over, they could have found no fitter man for their purpose. Brave as a lion, and as efficient as brave, Neil Howie inherited from nature a royal hatred of crime and criminals in every form. He laid his plans at once for the capture and return of John to Bannack. The men belonging to his train promised him ready assistance. In a short time John and the Indian appeared in the distance, and the courage of Neil’s friends, which began at that moment to weaken, “grew small by degrees, and beautifully less,” as the stalwart desperado approached, until, to use an expression much in vogue in those days, they concluded that as they “had lost no murderers,” the reason given for the arrest of this one were not sufficiently urgent to command their assistance in such a formidable undertaking. In plain words, they backed out of their promise. Neil, whose contempt for a coward was only equalled by his abhorrence of a murderer, still determined upon the capture. It would be a libel upon the honest Scotch inflexibility which had come down to him through his Covenanting progenitors to recede from a resolution which his conscience so fully approved. Dutch John rode up and asked for some tobacco.
“We have none to spare,” said the train master. “Go to the big train below. They will supply you.”
He cast a suspicious, uneasy glance at the men, and, with the Indian by his side, rode on. Neil looked after him until nearly lost to sight, then mounted his pony and rode rapidly in pursuit, with the hope of obtaining aid from the big train, which belonged to James Vivion. He soon overtook the fugitive, whom he found with rifle in hand, ready to defend his liberty. The Indian, too, apprised of Neil’s approach, passed his hands over his quiver, seemingly to select an arrow for instant use. Carelessly remarking, as he passed, that he had to borrow a shoeing hammer to prepare the stock for crossing the divide, Neil rode on under the muzzle of John’s rifle, without drawing his reins until he arrived at the train. The remark disarmed John’s suspicions, or he would doubtless have fired upon him.