Dr. Glick, who was highly accomplished in surgery, explained to him the danger of such an operation, but Plummer said he would rather die in the effort to cure the arm than live without it. With great reluctance, and little faith in his ability to save the arm, the doctor undertook the thankless task, and made preparations to operate accordingly. When the arm was bared, and the doctor was about to commence, Old Tex and Bill Hunter entered the room, the latter armed with a double-barrelled shotgun.
“I just thought,” said he to the doctor, “that I’d tell you that if you cut an artery, or Plummer dies from the operation you are going to perform, I’m going to shoot the top of your head off.”
The operation was successfully performed, and a large amount of spiculæ and disorganized tissue removed,—but the bullet could not be found. For several days the result was uncertain. Dr. Glick gave to the wound, which was terribly inflamed, his unremitting attention. He had incurred the hatred of Plummer’s friends because of his active support of law and order. They pretended to believe that he did not wish for Plummer’s recovery, and told him that they would hold him responsible with his life, for the safety of his patient. What was to be done? Escape from the country in the midst of an inclement season seemed impossible. In order to effect it, he must follow Crawford over an unknown trail to Fort Benton or go to Bitter Root Valley, or run the gantlet of the hostile Indians at Bear River over a route of four hundred miles to Salt Lake. Plummer’s wound was daily getting worse. The doctor, well knowing that the ruffians would put their threat into execution, prepared for his escape. Suspecting his intention, the friends of Plummer kept a close watch upon him. Despite their vigilance, however, a trusty friend secured his horse, saddled and bridled, in the bushes behind his cabin on the night that the crisis in the inflammation arrived. The doctor instructed Plummer’s attendants to awaken him, in order that he might make his escape, if the swelling did not begin to abate by midnight, and lay down, booted and spurred, to get a little rest. But the favorable change which took place, while it saved to Montana one of her best citizens in Dr. Glick, lengthened out for a darker fate than that which had threatened it, the guilty life of Henry Plummer.
Dr. Glick came to Bannack with a party of emigrants, of which he was captain, in 1862. The company were bound for Salmon River, but were arrested in their progress by the reputed richness of the Grasshopper mines. Glick had lost a handsome property in the early part of the war, and came to the gold mines to replenish his broken fortunes. He was accomplished in his profession, especially in surgery, and was the only physician in practice who had the confidence of the people,—Dr. Leavitt, also an able practitioner, being, at the time, engaged in mining.
His services were in almost daily demand by the road agents, to dress wounds received in broils among themselves, or while engaged in the commission of robbery. It was impossible, from his frequent contact with them, and the circumstances with which ofttimes he found them surrounded, for him to avoid a knowledge of their guilty enterprises. But he neither dared to decline to serve them, nor to divulge their villainy, well knowing that in either case, he would fall a victim to that summary vengeance, so promptly and fearlessly exercised in the case of Dillingham. He foresaw also, that a time must come when all the guilty misdeeds which he had been obliged to conceal, would be revealed, and that then the lovers of law and order would suspect the integrity of his motives, and possibly class him among the men of whom he justly stood so much in fear. But there was no remedy. He knew that his actions were narrowly watched, and that a word or glance indicating his suspicions would cost him his life. It was a happy day for him when, by the death of Plummer, his lips were unsealed.
The robbers, in other instances than the one recorded of his attendance upon Plummer, were in the habit of using threats to control the doctor’s conduct. On one occasion in July, 1863, Plummer invited him to accompany him on a horseback excursion to his ranche on the Rattlesnake. Finding no one at the cabin on their arrival, Plummer asked the doctor to go with him down the creek and pick some berries. They soon came upon a large clump of birch bushes. Pulling them aside, Plummer disclosed an open space cut within the clump, in which were seated several men, seeing whom Glick drew back, but was told by Plummer to come in. He entered, and found himself amid five or six men with masked or blackened faces, of whom he recognized Moore and Billy Terwiliger. The latter was lying on a blanket, wounded in the leg by a bullet received in some affray.
After dressing the wound, the doctor started with Plummer on the return to Bannack. While crossing the plateau between Rattlesnake and Bannack, Plummer suddenly wheeled in front of the doctor, and, cocking his pistol, thrust it into his face, saying,
“Now you know all. These are my men. I’m their chief. If you ever breathe a word of what you’ve seen, I’ll murder you.”
Under this kind of surveillance, the doctor lived until the robber band was destroyed. His discretion, only equalled by his kindness of heart, saved both his life from destruction by the robbers, and his good name from the public odium of the people. Montana has had no worthier or more useful citizen.
Henry Plummer was a man of wonderful executive ability. He was well educated. In stature he was about five feet ten inches, and in weight, one hundred and sixty pounds. His forehead was partially concealed by the rim of the hat which he rarely removed from his head, and his eyes were mild and expressive. In demeanor he was quiet and modest, free from swagger and bluster, dignified and graceful. He was intelligent and brilliant in conversation, a good judge of men, and his manners were those of a polished gentleman. To his enemies his magnanimity was more seeming than real. He always proffered them the advantage in drawing the pistol, but he knew that the instance would be very rare, where, even thus favored, his antagonist could anticipate him in its deadly use.