CHAPTER XVI.
THE DEER LODGE SCOUT.
The sleuth hound is upon the trail.
Nor speed nor force shall aught avail.
Almost instantly after the commencement of the organization of the Vigilance Committee, it was determined that the pursuit of the miscreants—the comrades of Ives—should be commenced and maintained with a relentless earnestness, which should know no abatement until the last blood-stained marauder had paid the penalty of his crimes by death on the gallows; or had escaped the retribution in store for him by successful flight to other countries. Foremost on the list stood Aleck Carter, the accomplice, at any rate, in the murder of Tbalt.
Twenty-four men were mustered, whose equipments consisted of arms, ammunition, and the most modest provision for the wants of the inner man that could possibly be conceived sufficient. The volunteers formed a motley group; but there were men enough among them of unquestioned courage, whom no difficulty could deter and no danger affright. They carried, generally, a pair of revolvers, a rifle or shot-gun, blankets and some ROPE. Spirits were forbidden to be used.
The leader of the party was one of those cool, undaunted and hardy men, whose career has been marked by honesty of purpose and fearlessness concerning the consequences of any just or lawful action, and to whom society owes a large debt for perils and hardships voluntarily undergone for the salvation of the lives and property of the people of this Territory, and for the punishment of wrong doers.
On the 23d of December, 1863, the party, on horse and mule-back, went by way of the Stinkingwater, on to the Big Hole, and over the Divide in the main range. The weather was very cold, and there was a large quantity of snow upon the ground. Fires could not be lighted when wanted at night, for fear of attracting attention. The men leaving their horses under a guard, lay down in their blankets on the snow—the wisest of them IN it. As the riders had been taken up from work, without time for the needful preparation in the clothing department, they were but ill prepared to face the stormy and chilling blast, which swept over the hills and valleys crossed by them on this arduous journey. Few know the hardships they encountered. The smiles of an approving conscience are about all, in the shape of a reward, that is likely to be received by any of them for their brilliant services.
On Deer Lodge Creek, the foremost horsemen met Red, (Erastus Yager;) but, being unacquainted with him, all the troop allowed him to pass the different sections of the command as they successively encountered him on the road. Red, who was now acting as letter carrier of the band, was a light and wiry built man, about five feet five inches high, with red hair and red whiskers. On inquiry, he told the officers that he had ascertained that Aleck Carter, Whiskey Bill (Graves,) Bill Bunton, and others of the gang were lying at Cottonwood, drunk; that they had attended a ball given there, and that they had been kicked out of it. A defiance accompanied this account, couched in the following euphonious and elegant strain: “The Stinkingwater —— may come; we’re good for thirty of them.” This most ingenious fable was concocted to put the scouts off their guard and to gain time for the fugitives. The same night the last of the party had crossed the Divide, and camped on Deer Lodge Creek—seventeen miles above Cottonwood, at John Smith’s Ranch.
At this place the men lay over till three o’clock in the afternoon, and then saddling up, rode into Cottonwood to take their prey by surprise. Arriving there, they put up their horses, took their supper, and discovered, both by actual search and the information of chosen parties, that the birds had flown, no one knew whither; though a camp fire far away among the hills was distinctly visible, and evoked from some of the old mountaineers a hearty malediction, for their experienced eyes had quickly marked the blaze, and they knew that it meant—escape.
On inquiry, it was found that a message had arrived from Virginia, warning the robbers to “Get up and dust, and lie low for black ducks.” A letter was found afterwards delivered to Tom Reilly and he showed it to the Vigilantes. It was written by Brown, and Red carried it over, travelling with such rapidity as to kill two horses.
Vexed and dispirited, the men started on their return by way of Beaverhead Rock. Here they camped in the willows, without shelter or fire, except such as could be made with the green twigs. On Saturday, it turned cold and snowed heavily, getting worse and worse, until on Sunday the cold became fearful, and the sufferings of the party were intense. Some of the stock stampeded to the canyon, out of the way of the storm. The rest were tied fast in the willows. It was no small job to hunt up the runaways.