Gallagher cursed the dead ruffian for a traitor, liar, and coward, in the same breath.
“My God!” said he, “must I die in this way?” He was taken out of the committee-room while uttering the most terrible oaths and blasphemies.
Hayes Lyons, the only remaining ruffian, had not yet been arrested. The party detailed for that object, while searching for him at the Arbor Restaurant, had found and captured Gallagher, on learning which the Gallagher pursuers immediately took up the hunt for Lyons. Foiled at several points, they accidentally learned that he had crossed the crags overhanging the gulch, and, after wandering in a circuit of several miles through the mountains, had come back to a miner’s cabin but half a mile distant from his point of departure. Proceeding with all possible speed to the cabin, the leader threw open the door, and, bringing his pistol to a deadly aim, exclaimed,
“Throw up your hands.”
Lyons, who was in the act of raising a piece of a griddlecake to his mouth, dropped the fork instantly, and obeyed the order.
“Come out here, and surrender at once,” was the next command.
He was in his shirt-sleeves, and, as he stepped out into the biting atmosphere, he asked in an undertone,
“Will some one get my coat?”
A member of the party brought it to him, and assisted him in putting it on. He trembled so much with fear that it was with difficulty he could get his arms into the sleeves. While the party was searching him to ascertain if he was armed, he said,
“You disturbed me in the first meal I have sat down to with any appetite in six weeks.”