While this scene was progressing, several other persons were engaged in tearing down the cabin. Throwing it into a pile, it was set on fire, and, when fairly in a blaze, the riddled body of Pizanthia was taken down, and placed upon the pyre. Its destruction by the devouring element was complete; not a vestige of the poor wretch remained; though the next morning a number of notorious women were early at the spot, engaged in panning out the ashes of the ill-fated desperado, in search of gold.
This entire transaction was an act of popular vengeance. The people were infuriated at the murder of Copley, who, besides being one of their best citizens, was a general favorite. There seemed to be no occasion or excuse for it, as the Vigilantes contemplated nothing more by the arrest of Pizanthia than an examination of his territorial record. With the crimes he had committed before he came to the Territory, they had nothing to do; and if he had been guilty of none after he came there, the heaviest possible punishment they would have inflicted was banishment. He brought his fate upon himself. It was a brief interlude in Vigilante history, the terrible features of which, though they may be deemed without apology or excuse, need not seek for multiplied precedents outside of the most enlightened nations or most refined societies in all Christendom.
CHAPTER XXXVII
EXECUTION OF DUTCH JOHN
Dutch John was still a prisoner in charge of Fetherstun, in the gloomy cabin on Yankee Flat, a euphonious title given to a little suburb of a dozen cabins of the town of Bannack. He had behaved with great propriety, and by his amiability of deportment won the sympathy and respect of his captors. The revelations which he made in his confession, implicating others, made him fearful of his former companions in crime, who, he knew, would kill him on the first opportunity. One night during his imprisonment both he and Fetherstun were alarmed by the sound of approaching footsteps and suppressed voices in earnest conversation. Fetherstun prepared his arms for a defence. Casting a glance at his prisoner, what was his astonishment to see him standing near the door, with a loaded double-barrelled gun, awaiting the approach of the outsiders.
“That’s right, John,” said Fetherstun approvingly; “fire upon them if they come. Don’t spare a man.”
John smiled and nodded, levelling the muzzle of the gun towards the sound, but the ruffians heard the click of the locks, and departed. John could have shot his keeper and escaped, but he feared the vengeance of his comrades more than the stern justice of the Vigilantes.
The fate of this desperado was yet undecided by the Committee. He was not without strong hope of escape, and his good conduct was doubtless attributable to the belief that both Howie and Fetherstun would interpose to save him. The evening of the day after the death of Pizanthia, the Committee met. The case of Dutch John came up for discussion. If it had been consistent with the laws prescribed for the government of the Committee, John would have been banished; but his guilty, blood-stained record demanded that he should die. He had been a murderer and highwayman for years, and the vote for his immediate execution was unanimous. The decision was reduced to writing, and a member of the Committee deputed to read it to the prisoner, and inform him that he would be executed in one hour. The wretched man was overcome. He rose from his blankets, and paced several times excitedly across the floor. Like Plummer, he then resorted to supplication.
“Do with me as you please. Disable me in any way, cut off my hands and feet, but let me live. You can certainly destroy my power for harm without taking my life.”
“Your request cannot be complied with,” said the messenger. “You must prepare to die.”
“So be it, then,” he replied, and immediately all signs of weakness disappeared. “I wish,” he continued, “to write to my mother. Is there a German here who can write my native language?”