After going about a quarter of a mile, they wheeled their horses and called “Halt.” The instant the word left their lips, Leroy dropped his gun on Aleck Carter; Tom Caldwell, and the other passenger each picked his man, and drew a bead on him, at the same moment. Aleck Carter called out, “We only want you to take a drink; but you can shoot and be ——, if you want to.” Producing the bottle, it was handed round; but Leroy and Tom only touched their lips to it. Tom believed it to be poisoned. After politely inquiring if any of the —— wanted any more, they wheeled their horses, saying, “We’re off for Pete Daley’s,” and clapped spurs to their horses, and headed for the Ranch, going on a keen run.
Before leaving Cold Spring Ranch, Leroy Southmayde told Tom that he saw through it all, and would leave the coach; but Tom said he would take Buck up beside him, and that surely the other fellow could watch Ray. Buck did not like the arrangement; but Tom said, “You’re an old driver, and I want you up with me, ——.”
The two passengers sat with their shot guns across their knees, ready for a move on the part of either of the robbers.
At Lorraine’s Ranch, Leroy and Caldwell went out a little way from the place, with the bridles in their hands, and talked about the “situation.” They agreed that it was pretty rough, and were debating the propriety of taking to the brush, and leaving the coach, when their peace of mind was in no way assured by seeing that Buck Stinson was close to them, and must have overheard every word they had uttered. Buck endeavored to allay their fears by saying there was no danger. They told him that they were armed, and that if they were attacked, they would make it a warm time for some of them; at any rate, they would “get” three or four of them. Buck replied, “Gentlemen, I pledge you my word, my honor, and my life, that you will not be attacked between this and Virginia.”
The coach went on, directly the horses were hitched up, and Buck commenced roaring out a song, without intermission, till at last he became tired, and then, at his request, Ray took up the chorus. This was the signal to the other three to keep off. Had the song ceased, an attack would have been at once made, but, without going into Algebra, they were able to ascertain that such a venture had more peril than profit, and so they let it alone. The driver, Southmayde and the young passenger were not sorry when they alighted safe in town. Ned Ray called on Southmayde and told him that if he knew who committed the robbery he should not tell; for that death would be his portion if he did.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE OPENING OF THE BALL—GEORGE IVES.
They mustered in their simple dress,
For wrongs to seek a stern redress.
As a matter of course, after the failure of Justice in the case of the murderers of Dillingham, the state of society, bad as it was rapidly deteriorated, until a man could hardly venture to entertain a belief that he was safe for a single day. We have been repeatedly shown places where bullets used to come through the chinks between the logs separating one of the stores in town from a saloon. Wounded men lay almost unnoticed about the city, and a night or day without shooting, knifing or fighting would have been recognized as a small and welcome instalment of the millennium. Men dared not go from Virginia to Nevada or Summit after dark. A few out of the hundreds of instances must suffice. A Dutchman, known as Dutch Fred, was met by one of the band, who ordered him to throw up his hands, as usual. Finding he had $5 in Treasury Notes with him, the robber told him he would take them at par, and added with a volley of curses, “If ever you come this way with only $5, I’ll shoot you; —— you, I’ll shoot you anyhow,” and raising his pistol, he shot him in the arm. Another man was robbed of two or three dollars, about two or three miles below Nevada, and was told that if ever he came with as little money again they would kill him.
George Ives was a young man of rather prepossessing appearance, probably twenty-seven years old. His complexion and hair were light, and his eyes blue. He wore no whiskers. His height was nearly six feet, and he wore a soldier’s overcoat and a light felt hat. The carriage of this renowned desperado was sprightly, and his coolness was imperturbable. Long practice in confronting danger had made him absolutely fearless. He would face death with an indifference that had become constitutional, and the spirit of reckless bravado with which he was animated made him the terror of the citizens. He would levy black mail under the guise of a loan and as a matter of sport, and to show the training of his horse, he would back the animal into the windows of a store, and then ride off laughing. In looking at Ives a man would, at first sight, be favorably impressed; but a closer examination by any one skilled in physiognomy, would detect in the lines of the mouth and in the strange, fierce and sinister gleam of the eye, the quick spirit which made him not only the terror of the community, but the dread of the band of ruffians with whom he was associated.
As before mentioned, he was with Henry Plummer when he started to rob Langford and Hauser; he assisted at the robbery of the coaches in October and November, and, after that, he figured as a highwayman with Aleck Carter, down on Snake River, under the alias of Lewis.