“While we are here betting, those Vigilantes are passing sentence of death upon us.”
Wonderful prescience! He little knew or realized the truth which this observation had for him and his comrades in iniquity.
Morning broke, cold and cloudy, discovering to the eyes of the citizens the pickets of the Vigilantes. The city was like an intrenched camp. Hundreds of men, with guns at the shoulder, were marching through the snow on all the surrounding hillsides, with military regularity and precision. The preparation could not have been more perfect if made to oppose an invading army. There was no misunderstanding this array. People talked with bated breath to each other of the certain doom which awaited the villains who had so long preyed upon their substance, and spread terror through the country.
Messengers were sent to the different towns in the gulch to summon the Vigilantes to appear forthwith, and take part in the trial of the ruffians. At the same time parties were detailed to arrest and bring the criminals before the Committee. Boone Helm, Jack Gallagher, Frank Parish, Hayes Lyons, George Lane, and Bill Hunter were known to be in the city at the time the picket guard was stationed. Of these, Hunter had escaped. The Vigilantes from Nevada, Junction, Summit, Pine Grove, and Highland marched into town in detachments, and formed in a body on Main Street. The town was full of people.
Frank Parish, the first prisoner brought in, was quietly arrested in a store. He exhibited little fear. Taking an executive officer aside,
“What,” he inquired, “am I arrested for?”
“For being a road agent, thief, and an accessory to numerous robberies and murders on the highway.”
“I am innocent of all,—as innocent as you are.”
When, however, he was put upon his examination before the Committee, and facts were brought home to him, he receded from his position of innocence, and confessed to more and greater offences than were charged against him.
“I was,” said he, “one of the party that robbed the coach between Virginia City and Bannack.”