“I’m not heeled”—the mountain phrase for “I am not armed.”
“Then go and heel yourself,” said Mayfield, sheathing his revolver, “and look out the next time you meet me, for I’m bound to kill you at sight. One of us must die.”
The next day, while Mayfield and two friends were walking in the suburbs, they came upon a muddy spot, across which a narrow plank had been laid. This necessitated crossing it in single file. Mayfield was in the centre. Evans was in a cabin beside the crossing, but a few feet distant. Seizing a double-barrelled shotgun, he fired upon Mayfield from his place of concealment, through an open window. Mayfield grasped for his revolver, but fell without power to draw it, exclaiming “I’m shot.” He died in two hours, illustrating in his demise the Scriptural axiom, “With what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again.” Evans was immediately arrested, but escaped from jail that night, and being furnished with a horse by a friend, fled the country, and was never apprehended.
After Mayfield’s death Cynthia entered upon that career of promiscuous infamy which is the certain destiny of all women of her class. It is written of her that “she has been the cause of more personal collisions and estrangements than any other woman in the Rocky Mountains.”
CHAPTER X
BOONE HELM
Some men are villains by nature, others become so by circumstances. Hogarth’s series of pictures representing in contrast the career of two apprentices illustrates this truth better than words. Both commenced life under the same influences. The predominance of good and evil is exhibited by the natural tendency of one to overcome all unfavorable circumstances by close application to business and by virtuous associations, and of the other to idleness, vicious indulgences, and corrupt companionship. The one becomes Lord Mayor of London, and in the discharge of official duty passes sentence of death upon the other.
The wretch I am now about to introduce to the reader was one of those hideous monsters of depravity whom neither precept nor example could have saved from a life of crime. Boone Helm was a native of Kentucky. His parents emigrated to one of the newest settlements in Missouri while he was a boy. The rough pursuits of border-life were congenial to his tastes. He excelled in feats of physical strength, and delighted in nothing more than a quarrel which brought his prowess into full display. He was an inordinate drinker, and when excited by liquor gave way to all the evil passions of his nature. One of the exploits recorded of him was that of hurling his bowie-knife into the ground and regaining it with his horse at full speed. On one occasion, while the circuit court was in session, the sheriff attempted to arrest him. Helm resisted the officer, but urging his horse up the stairs into the court-room, astonished the judge by demanding with profane emphasis what he wanted of him.
In the year 1848 he married a respectable girl, but neither her affection nor the infant daughter born to him a year later could prevail with him to abandon his vicious and profligate habits. His wife sought security from his ill-treatment in divorce, which was readily granted. This freed him from family responsibilities, and he at once determined to emigrate either to Texas or California. Littlebury Shoot, a neighbor, while Helm was intoxicated, had, for pacific purposes, promised to accompany him,—intending when he was sober to avoid the fulfilment of the promise by explanation. Helm was told of his intention. He called upon Shoot, who had retired, and meeting him at the door of his house, with his left hand on his shoulder, in a friendly tone thus addressed him:
“So, Littlebury, you’ve backed down on the Texas question, have you?”
Shoot attempted an explanation, but was stopped by the peremptory demand: