Rather than disturb the sleepers, Langford directed his fellow traveller, who was in delicate health, to occupy the wagon with Hauser, while he himself took a buffalo robe and made a bedstead of mother earth.
The night was a cold one, and becoming chilled through Langford arose and at first walked briskly up and down by the camp, in order to warm himself. After awhile, he turned his steps towards the creek, which was about one hundred and fifty yards distant, but with the instinctive caution engendered by a residence in the mountains, he armed himself with his trusty “double-barrel,” and then, with his thoughts wandering to other scenes and other days, he slowly sauntered by the rippling waters.
His musings were brought to a sudden close by the murmur of voices, born on the breeze, accompanied by the well known tramp of horses at speed. The banks of the rivulet were lined with willows, and lay in deep shadow, except where an opening in the thicket disclosed the prairie that lay beyond, sleeping peacefully in the moonlight. Drawing aside the bushes he saw three mounted men in the act of passing one of these avenues, at the gallop. Roused to a sense of danger, he cocked his gun and followed them down stream, to a place where an interval between the thickets that lined both sides of the creek gave him a good sight of the night rangers, and stood in full view, his piece lying in the hollow of his hand, ready for instant service.
As soon as he emerged from the shelter of the willows, and the horsemen became aware of his presence, they stopped for a few moments, and then bore away down the valley, determined to see the end of the matter, and having the brush for cover, while his friends were still within hail, if needed, the watcher pushed on for about two hundred yards and wading to the other bank, he had no sooner reached the top, than he saw four men at that moment mounting their horses. No sooner did they observe him than they drove their spurs into their horses’ flanks, and started on a run for Bannack. These men were Plummer, Buck Stinson, Ned Ray and George Ives, who, on their return to the town by another road, after the robbery of Tilden, having found, as before related, that Langford and Hauser had really gone—followed at once upon their track.
But for the providential circumstances connected with the chance appropriation of the blankets, and the consequent sleeping of Langford on the ground, together with his accidental appearance with his gun in his hand, as if on guard—the whole party would have been murdered, as it was known to their pursuers that they had a considerable amount of treasure with them.
The scarf which Plummer presented to Hauser was given for the purpose of enabling the cunning robber to identify his man by night.
It is a somewhat singular coincidence that Plummer was hung on the next birth day of Hauser, (the 10th of January, 1864.)
The party proceeded on their journey without interruption, and on their arrival at Salt Lake City, they were besieged by their acquaintances with inquiries concerning several parties who were known to have preceded them on the road thither by about a week; but the unfortunate objects of their solicitude never reached their destination, or were afterwards heard of. They sleep in bloody graves; but where, how, and when they met their death, at the hands of the Road Agents, will probably never be known. The fate that could not be avoided was, nevertheless avenged.
CHAPTER X.
THE REPULSE.
“Though few the numbers—theirs the strife,
That neither spares nor speaks for life.”—Byron.