There being no possible doubt of his criminality, the vote on his case was taken with the uplifted hand, and resulted in a unanimous verdict of guilty.
The captain then told him that he was to be hanged, and that if he had any business to attend to, he had better get some one to do it. He gave his gold watch to his partner, Cooke, and his other property to pay his debts. He had won his interest in the saloon some fourteen days before, by gambling it from its owner.
Tex was taken to another house, and was separately tried. After a patient investigation, the robber was cleared—the evidence not being sufficient to convict him. Had the Vigilantes held him in custody, for a time, Tex would have experienced a difficulty in his breathing, that would have proved quickly fatal; for testimony in abundance was afterward obtained, proving conclusively that he was a highwayman and common thief. He made all sail for Kootenai, and there boasted that he would shoot any Vigilanter he could set eyes on.
About two hundred and fifty feet to the left-front of Pete Martin’s house, at the gate of Louis Demorest’s corral, there were two upright posts, and a cross-beam, which looked quite natural, and appeared as if they had been made for Bunton.
The prisoner was taken out, and put up on a board supported by two boxes. He was very particular about the exact situation of the knot, and asked if he could not jump off, himself. Being told that he could, if he wished, he said that he didn’t care for hanging, any more than he did for taking a drink of water; but he should like to have his neck broken. He seemed quite satisfied when his request was granted. He continued to deny his guilt to the very last moment of his life, repeating the pass-word of the gang “I am innocent.” Two men were stationed at the board—one at each end—and, all being ready, he was asked if he had anything to say, or any request to make. He said, “No; all I want is a mountain three hundred feet high, to jump off.” He said he would give the time—“one,” “two,” “three.” At the word “ready,” the men stationed at the plank prepared to pull it from under him, if he should fail to jump; but he gave the signal, as he promised, and adding, “here goes it,” he leaped into the embrace of death. The cessation of muscular contraction was almost instantaneous, and his death was accompanied by scarcely a perceptible struggle.
The corral keepers’ wife insisted, in terms more energetic than polite, that her husband should get the poles cut down. With this request he was forced to comply, as soon as the corpse of the Road Agent was removed for burial.
The parties knew that the robbers were to be found at Hell Gate, which was so named, because it was the road which the Indians took when on the war-path, and intent on scalping and other pleasant little amusements, in the line of ravishing, plundering, fire-raising, etc., for the exhibition of which genteel proclivities, the Eastern folks recommend a national donation of blankets and supplies, to keep the thing up. As independent and well educated robbers, however sedulously reared to the business, from childhood, it must be admitted that, in case anything is lacking, they at once proceed to supply the deficiency from the pilgrims’ trains, and from settlers’ homesteads. If the Indians were left to the Vigilantes of Montana, they would contract to change their habits, at small cost; but an agency is too fat a thing for pet employees, and, consequently a treaty is entered into, the only substantial adjunct of which is the quantity of presents which the Indians believe they have frightened out of the white men. Probably, in a century or so, they will see that our view is correct.
On their road from Cottonwood to Hell Gate, the troop was accompanied by Jemmy Allen, towards whose Ranch they were directing their steps. The weather was anything but pleasant for travelling, the quantity of snow making it laborious work for the Vigilantes, and the cold was very hard to endure, without shelter. At the crossing of Deer Lodge Creek, the ice gave way, and broke through with the party. It was pitch dark at the time, and much difficulty was experienced in getting out both men and horses. One cavalier was nearly drowned; but a lariet being put round the horses’ neck, it was safely dragged out. The rider scrambled to the bank, somehow or other—memory furnishes the result only, not the detail—and jumping on to the “animal,” he rode, on a keen run, to the Ranch, which was some four or five miles ahead.
The remainder of the cavalcade travelled on more leisurely, arriving there about 11 P. M., and having recruited a little, they wrapped themselves in blankets and slumber without delay.
Next morning, in company with Charley Eaton, who was acquainted with the country and with the folks around Hell Gate, they started for that locality, and after riding fifteen or sixteen miles through snow, varying in depth from two to three feet, they camped for the night. The horses being used to foraging, pawed for their food.