During the week, Bill Hunter came to Hank, and pretended that he had said something against him. To this Hank replied, that he knew what he was after, and added, “If you want anything, you can get it right straight along.” Not being able “to get the drop on him,” (in mountain phrase) and finding that he could not intimidate him, he turned and went off, never afterwards speaking to Hank.
On the following Sunday, Plummer came into a saloon where Hank was conversing with George Purkins, and, addressing the latter, said, “George, there’s a little matter between you and Hank that’s got to be settled.” Hank said, “Well, I don’t know what it can be,” and laughed. Plummer observed, “You needn’t laugh, G—d d——n you. It’s got to be settled.” Turning to Purkins, he stated that he and Crawford had said he was after a squaw, and had tried to court “Catharine.” He commenced to abuse Purkins and telling him to “come out,” and that he was “a cowardly son of a b——h.” He also declared that he could “lick” both him and Hank Crawford. George said that he was a coward, and no fighting man, and that he would not go out of doors with any body. Plummer gave the same challenge to Hank, and received for a reply, that he was not afraid to go out with any man, and that he did not believe one man was made to scare another. Plummer said, “come on,” and started ahead of Hank towards the street. Hank walked quite close up to him, on his guard all the time, and Plummer at once said, “Now pull your pistol.” Hank refused, saying, “I’ll pull no pistol; I never pulled a pistol on a man, and you’ll not be the first.” He then offered to fight him in any other way. “I’m no pistol shot,” he added, “and you would not do it if you hadn’t the advantage.” Plummer said, “If you don’t pull your pistol, I’ll shoot you like a sheep.” Hank quietly laid his hand on his shoulder, and, fixing his eyes on him, said slowly and firmly, “If that’s what you want, the quicker you do it, the better for you,” and turning round, walked off. Plummer dared not shoot without first raising a fuss, knowing that he would be hung. During the altercation above narrated, Hank had kept close to Plummer ready for a struggle, in case he offered to draw his pistol, well knowing that his man was the best and quickest shot in the mountains; and that if he had accepted his challenge, long before he could have handled his own revolver, three or four balls would have passed through his body. The two men understood one another, at parting. They looked into each other’s eyes. They were mountaineers, and each man read, in his opponent’s face, “Kill me, or I’ll kill you.” Plummer believed that Hank had his secret, and one or the other must therefore die.
Hank went, at once, to his boarding house, and taking his double-barrelled shot gun, prepared to go out, intending to find and kill Plummer at sight. He was perfectly aware that all attempts at pacification would be understood as indications of cowardice, and would render his death a mere question of the goodness of Plummer’s ammunition. Friends, however, interfered, and Hank could not get away till after they left, late in the evening.
By the way, is it not rather remarkable, that if a man has a few friends round him, and he happens to become involved in a fight, the aforesaid sympathizers, instead of restraining his antagonist, generally hold HIM, and wrestle all the strength out of him, frequently enabling his opponent to strike him while in the grasp of his officious backers? A change of the usual programme would be attended with beneficial results, in nine cases out of ten. Another suggestion we have to make, with a view to preventing actual hostilities, and that is, that when a man raves and tears, shouting, “let go,” “let me at him,” “hold my shirt while I pull off my coat,” or makes other bellicose requests, an instant compliance with his demands will at once prevent a fight. If two men, also, are abusing one another, in loud and foul language, the way to prevent blows is to seize hold of them and commencing to strip them for a fight, form a ring. This is commonly a settler. No amount of coin could coax a battle out of them. Such is our experience of all the loud mouthed brigade. Men that mean “fight” may hiss a few muttered anathemas, through clenched teeth; but they seldom talk much, and never bandy slang.
Hank started and hunted industriously for Plummer, who was himself similarly employed, but they did not happen to meet.
The next morning, Hank’s friends endeavored to prevail upon him to stay within doors until noon; but it was of no avail. He knew what was before him, and that it must be settled, one way or the other. Report came to him, that Plummer was about to leave town, which at once put him on his guard. The attempt to ensnare him into a fatal carelessness was too evident.
Taking his gun, he went up town, to the house of a friend—Buz Caven. He borrowed Buz’s rifle, without remark, and stood prepared for emergencies. After waiting some time, he went down to the butcher’s shop which he kept, and saw Plummer frequently; but he always had somebody close beside him, so that, without endangering another man’s life, Hank could not fire.
He finally went out of sight, and sent a man to compromise, saying they would agree to meet as strangers. He would never speak to Crawford, and Crawford should never address him. Hank was too wary to fall into the trap. He sent word back to Plummer that he had broken his word once, and that his pledge of honor was no more than the wind, to him; that one or the other had to suffer or leave.
A friend came to tell Hank that they were making arrangements to shoot him in his own door, out of a house on the other side of the street. Hank kept out of the door, and about noon, a lady, keeping a restaurant, called to him to come and get a dish of coffee. He went over without a gun. While he was drinking the coffee, Plummer, armed with a double-barrelled gun, walked opposite to his shop door, watching for a shot. A friend, Frank Ray, brought Hank a rifle. He instantly leveled at Plummer, and fired. The ball broke his arm. His friends gathered round him, and he said, “some son of a b——h has shot me.” He was then carried off. He sent Hank a challenge to meet him in fifteen days; but he paid no attention to a broken armed man’s challenge, fifteen days ahead. In two days after, while Hank was in Meninghall’s store, George Carrhart came in. Hank saw there was mischief in his look, and went up to him at once, saying, “Now, George, I know what you want. You had better go slow.” Stickney got close to him on the other side, and repeated the caution. After a while he avowed that he came to kill him; but, on hearing his story, he pulled open his coat, showing his pistol ready in the band of his pants, and declared at the same time that he would be his friend. Another party organized to come down and shoot Crawford, but failed to carry out their intention. Some of the citizens, hearing of this, offered to shoot or hang Plummer, if Crawford would go with them; but he refused, and said he would take care of himself. On the 13th of March, he started for Wisconsin, riding on horseback to Fort Benton. He was followed by three men, but they never came up with him, and taking boat at the river, he arrived safely at home. It was his intention to come out in the Fall, and his brothers sent him money for that purpose; but the coach was robbed, and all the letters taken. The money, unfortunately, shared the fate of the mail. Crawford was lately living at Virginia City—having returned shortly after his marriage in the States.
The account of the troubles of one man, which we have given above, has been inserted with the object of showing the state of society which could permit such openly planned and persistent outrages, and which necessitated such a method of defense. Crawford, or any of the others, might as well have applied to the Emperor of China, for redress or protection, as to any civil official.