George Ives, though so renowned a desperado, was by no means an ancient practitioner in his profession. In 1857-58, he worked as a miner, honestly and hard, in California, and though wild and reckless, was not accused of dishonesty. His first great venture in the line of robbery was the stealing of Government mules, near Walla Walla. He was employed as herder, and used to report that certain of his charge were dead, every time that a storm occurred. The officer of the Post believed the story, and inquired no further. In this way George ran off quite a decent herd, with the aid of his friends. In Elk City, he startled his old employer, in the mines of California by riding his horse into his saloon, and when that gentlemen seized the bridle, he drew his revolver, and would certainly have killed him, but fortunately he caught sight of the face of his intended victim in time, and returning his pistol he apologized for his conduct. When leaving the city, he wished to present his splendid gray mare to his friend, who had for old acquaintance sake supplied his wants; but the present, though often pressed upon this gentleman, was as often refused; for no protestations of Ives’ could convince him that the beautiful animal was fairly his property. He said that he earned it honestly by mining. His own account of the stealing of the Government mules, which we have given above, was enough to settle that question definitively. It was from the “other side” that Ives came over to Montana—then a part of Idaho—and entered with full purpose upon the career which ended at Nevada, so fatally and shamefully for himself, and so happily for the people of this Territory.
A short biographical sketch of Ives and of the rest of the gang will appear at the end of the present work.
The trial of Hilderman was a short matter. He was defended by Judge (?) H. P. A. Smith. He had not been known as a very bad man; but was a weak and somewhat imbecile old fellow, reasonably honest in a strictly honest community, but easily led to hide the small treasure, keep the small secrets and do the dirty work of strong-minded, self-willed, desperate men, whether willingly or through fear the trial did not absolutely determine. The testimony of Dr. Glick, showed him to be rather cowardly and a great eater. He had known of the murder of Tbalt for some weeks, and had never divulged it. He was also cognizant of the murder near Cold Spring Ranch, and was sheltering and hiding the perpetrators. He had concealed the stolen mules too; but, in view of the disclosures made by many, after Ives was hung, and the power of the gang being broken, such disclosures did not so much damage men in the estimation of the honest mountaineer. Medical men were taken to wounded robbers to dress their wounds; they were told in what affray they were received, and the penalty of repeating the story to outsiders was sometimes told; but to others it was described by a silence more expressive than words. Other parties, too, came into possession of the knowledge of the tragedies enacted by them, from their own lips, and under circumstances rendering silence a seeming necessity. To be necessarily the repository of their dreadful secrets was no enviable position. Their espionage upon every word uttered by the unfortunate accessory was offensive, and it was not a consolatory thought that, at any moment, his life might pay the penalty of any revelation he should make; and a person placed in such a “fix” was to some extent a hostage for the reticence of all who knew the same secret.
If stronger minded men than Hilderman could pretend to be, had kept secrets at the bidding of the Road Agents, and that too in the populous places, where there were surely some to defend them—it was argued that a weak minded man, away from all neighbors, where by day and by night he could have been killed and hidden from all human eyes, with perfect impunity—had some apology for obeying their behests.
Mr. Smith’s defense of Hilderman was rather creditable to him. There was none of the braggadocio common to such occasions, and the people feeling that they had caught and executed a chief of the gang—felt kindly disposed towards the old man.
Hilderman was banished from Montana, and was allowed ten days time for the purpose of settling his affairs and leaving. When he arrived at Bannack City, Plummer told him not to go; but the old man took counsel of his fears, and comparing the agile and effeminate form of Plummer with those of the earnest mountaineers at Nevada, he concluded that he would rather bet on them than on Plummer, and being furnished by the latter with a poney and provisions, he left Montana forever.
When found guilty and recommended to mercy, he dropped on his knees, exclaiming, “My God, is it so?”
At the close of his trial, he made a statement, wherein he confirmed nearly all Long John had said of Ives.
Thus passed one of the crises which have arisen in this new community. The result demonstrated that when the good and law abiding were banded together and all put forth their united strength, they were too strong for the lawlessness which was manifested when Ives was hung.
It has generally been supposed and believed, that Plummer was not present at the trial of Ives, or at his execution. We are bound, however, to state that Mr. Clinton, who kept a saloon in Nevada at the time, positively asserts that he was in the room when Plummer took a drink there, a few minutes before the roughs made their rush at the fall of Ives, and that he went out and headed the mob in the effort which the determination of the guard rendered unsuccessful.