“No,” replied Hynson.
“Then I’ll give you one, and you can turn loose,” at the same time drawing a revolver from his belt and offering it to him. Seeing that Hynson hesitated, he immediately added, “Take it. It will give you the chance you’ve been looking for so long.”
Hynson declined taking it, saying,
“I was in jail and feeling bad when I said that. You’ve always been kind to me. I’ve got nothing against you, and don’t want to hurt you, but I’m going for X., sure,—the man that put me in here.”
X. needed no protector, especially when warned. No man could draw and fire a pistol with deadlier aim or greater rapidity, and so Hynson found no opportunity of putting his threat into execution.
In the Spring of 1868, Beidler, on his return to Helena from the Whoop-up mines, spent a few days en route at Benton. The steamboats from St. Louis were daily arriving with freights, which from this point were conveyed by teams to all the towns and mining camps in the Territory. Hynson, hired as a teamster to Scott Bullard, a heavy Helena freighter, was on his way to Benton. Learning that Beidler was there, he frequently in conversation avowed the intention of shooting him on sight. As the train approached Benton, Bullard rode into town in advance of it, and apprised Beidler of his danger.
The day after the arrival of the train, Hynson and Beidler approached each other in the street. The former extended his hand in a friendly manner, which Beidler seized with his left hand, keeping his right in reserve for the use of his pistol.
“I am told,” said Beidler, “that you have come here to kill me.”
“I kill you!” said Hynson, in well-affected surprise.
“Yes, you,” said Beidler, dropping the hand he held, “and if you wish to try it, you’ll never have a better chance. If that’s what you want, you can’t pull your pistol too quick.”