He was marched from the place of his confinement to an unfinished building, where the bodies of Stinson and Plummer were laid out—the one on the floor and the other on a work bench. Ray’s corpse had been handed over to his mistress, at her special request. The doomed man gazed without shrinking on the remains of the malefactors, and asked leave to pray. This was of course, granted, and he knelt down. His lips moved rapidly; but he uttered no word audibly. On rising to his feet, he continued, apparently to pray, looking round, however, upon the assembled Vigilantes all the time. A rope being thrown over a cross-beam, a barrel was placed ready for him to stand upon. While the final preparations were making, the prisoner asked how long it would take him to die, as he had never seen a man hanged. He was told that it would be only a short time. The noose was adjusted; a rope was tied round the head of the barrel and the party took hold. At the word, “All ready,” the barrel was instantly jerked from beneath his feet, and he swung in the death agony. His struggles were very powerful, for a short time; so iron a frame could not quit its hold on life as easily as a less muscular organization. After hanging till frozen stiff, the body was cut down and buried decently.
CHAPTER XX.
THE CAPTURE AND EXECUTION OF BOONE HELM, JACK GALLAGHER, FRANK PARISH, HAZE LYONS AND CLUB-FOOT GEORGE (LANE.)
“’Tis joy to see the engineer hoist
With his own petard.”—Shakspeare.
The effect of the executions noticed in the foregoing chapters, was both marked and beneficial. There was much to be done, however, to insure anything like lasting peace to the community. Ives, Yager, Brown, Plummer, Stinson, Ray, Pizanthia and Wagner were dead; but the five villains whose names head this chapter, together with Bunton, Zachary, Marshland, Shears, Cooper, Carter, Graves, Hunter and others were still at large, and were supported by many others equally guilty, though less daring and formidable as individuals.
Threats of vengeance had been made, constantly, against the Vigilantes, and a plot to rob several stores in Virginia had nearly matured, when it was discovered and prevented. Every man who had taken part in the pursuit of the criminals whose fate has been recorded, was marked for slaughter by the desperadoes, and nothing remained but to carry out the good work so auspiciously begun, by a vigorous and unhesitating severity, which should know no relaxation until the last blood-stained miscreant that could be captured had met a felon’s doom.
On the evening of the 13th of January, 1864, the Executive Committee, in solemn conclave assembled, determined on hanging six of them forthwith. One of the doomed men—Bill Hunter—suspecting danger, managed to crawl away, along a drain-ditch, through the line of pickets that surrounded the town, and made his escape. He was badly frozen by exposure to the cold, and before his capture, was discovered by J. A. Slade, while lying concealed under a bed at a ranch, and told that the Vigilantes were after him, which information caused him to move his quarters to Gallatin valley, where he was caught and executed soon after, as will appear in the course of this narrative.
While the Committee were deliberating in secret, a small party of the men who were at that moment receiving sentence of death, were gathered in an upper room at a gambling house, and engaged in betting at faro. Jack Gallagher suddenly remarked, “While we are here betting, those Vigilante sons of —— are passing sentence on us.” This is considered to be the most remarkable and most truthful saying of his whole life; but he might be excused telling the truth once, as it was entirely accidental.
Express messengers were sent to warn the men of the neighboring towns, in the gulch, and the summons was instantly obeyed.
Morning came—the last on earth that the five desperadoes should ever behold. The first rays of light showed the pickets of the Vigilantes stationed on every eminence and point of vantage round the city. The news flew like lightning through the town. Many a guilty heart quaked with just fear, and many an assassin’s lip turned pale and quivered with irrepressible terror. The detachments of Vigilantes, with compressed lips and echoing footfall, marched in from Nevada, Junction, Summit, Pine Grove, Highland and Fairweather, and halted in a body in Main street. Parties were immediately detailed for the capture of the Road Agents, and all succeeded in their mission, except the one which went after Bill Hunter, who had escaped.
Frank Parish was brought in first. He was arrested without trouble, in a store, and seemed not to expect death. He took the executive officer one side, and asked, “What am I arrested for?” He was told, “For being a Road Agent and thief, and accessory to the murders and robberies on the road.” At first he pleaded innocent; but at last he confessed his complicity with the gang, and admitted being one of the party that robbed the coach between Bannack and Virginia, and that he was guilty of stealing horses and stock for them. He used to butcher stolen cattle, and attend to the commissariat business. He gave some directions about articles of clothing belonging to him, and the settlement of some debts. Until his confession, it was not known that he had any share in the robbery of the coach.