On the road back the guard had wormed out of Barney that a stranger was stopping at Van Dorn’s, in the Bitter Root valley. “No. 84,” who was leading the party who captured Shears, asked, “Does Van live here?” “Yes,” said the man himself. “Is George Shears in your house?” asked 84. “Yes,” said Van. “Where is he?” “In the next room.” “Any objection to our going in?” The man replied by opening the door of the room, on which George became visible, knife in hand. He gave himself up quietly, and seemed so utterly indifferent to death, that he perfectly astonished his captors. Taking a walk with 84, he pointed out to him the stolen horses in the corral, and confessed his guilt, as a man would speak of the weather. He said, “I knew I should have to go up, some time; but I thought I could run another season.” When informed of his doom, he appeared perfectly satisfied. On being taken into the barn, where a rope was thrown over a beam, he was asked to walk up a ladder, to save trouble about procuring a drop. He at once complied, addressing his captors in the following unique phraseology: “Gentlemen, I am not used to this business, never having been hung before. Shall I jump off or slide off?” Being told to jump off, he said “all right; good-bye,” and leaped into the air, with as much sang froid as if bathing.
The drop was long and the rope tender. It slowly untwisted, and Shears hung, finally, by a single strand. George’s parting question was, for a long time, a by-word among the Vigilantes.
A company of three, headed by the “old man,” started off to Fort Owen, in the Bitter Root Valley, in pursuit of Whiskey Bill, (Bill Graves, the coach robber.) This worthy was armed and on the look out for his captors; but, it seems, he had become partially snow-blind by long gazing. At all events, he did not see the party with sufficient distinctness to ascertain who they were, until the “old man” jumped from his horses and covered him with his revolver. He gave up, though he had repeatedly sworn that he would shoot any —— Vigilanter who would come his way. His guilt was notorious throughout all the country, and his capture was merely a preliminary to his execution. The men took him away from the Fort, in deference to the prejudices of the Indians, who would have felt no desire to live near where a man had been hanged. Graves made no confession. He was what is called in the mountains a “bull-head,” and was a sulky, dangerous savage. Being tied up to a limb, the difficulty was to make a “drop;” but the ingenuity of the leader was equal to the emergency. One of the men mounted his horse; Graves was lifted up behind him, and, all being ready, “Good-bye, Bill,” said the front horseman, driving his huge rowels into the horse’s flanks, as he spoke. The animal made a plunging bound of twelve feet, and Bill Graves swept from his seat by the fatal noose and lariet, swung lifeless. His neck was broken by the shock.
The different parties rendezvoused at Hell Gate, and a company of eight men were dispatched to the Pen de’Oreille reserve, to get Johnny Cooper’s horses, six or seven in number. They were poor in condition and were nearly all sold to pay the debts which the Road Agent had incurred in the country round about the village. The remainder were brought to Nevada. It seems that Aleck Carter and Cooper were about to start for Kootenai, on the previous day, and that their journey was prevented only by their quarrel about the pistol, which Cooper charged Aleck with stealing, and which resulted in the wounding of Cooper, the delay of their journey, and, in fact, in their execution. A pack animal, laden with their baggage and provisions, carried $130 worth of goods. These were taken for the use of the expedition; but on a representation made by Higgins that he had supplied them to Carter to get rid of him, but that he had received nothing for them, they were paid for, on the spot by the Vigilantes.
There had been a reign of terror in Hell Gate. The robbers did as they pleased, took what they chose. A Colt’s revolver was the instrument ever ready to enforce the transfer. Brown, a Frenchman, living in the neighborhood, stated to the Vigilantes, that he was glad to see them, for that the robbers used to ride his stock whenever they pleased, and that they always retained possession of such steeds as they especially fancied.
Cooper had determined to marry his daughter, a pretty half-breed girl, and then, after getting all that he could lay hands on, he intended to turn the old man adrift. He used to go to his intended father-in-law, and inform him that he wanted another of those pretty pocket pieces, ($20 gold pieces,) and he always obtained what he asked; for death would have been the instant penalty of refusal. Other parties had supplied Cooper and Carter with money, pistols and whatever else they asked, for the same potent and unanswerable reasons. Any demand for payment was met by a threat to shoot the creditor.
At the conclusion of the trials of Carter and Skinner, a vote was taken by stepping to the opposite sides of the room; but the verdict of guilty, and a judgment of death to the culprits, were unanimously rendered.
Cooper was tried separately, and interrogated by Mr. President concerning his conduct on the “other side.” He denied the whole thing; but this gentleman’s testimony, the confession of Red, and the witness of the inhabitants rendered a conviction and sentence of death inevitable.
Carter and Skinner were taken to Higgins’ corral and executed by torchlight, shortly after midnight. Two poles were planted, leaning over the corral fence; to these the ropes were tied, and store-boxes served for “drops.”
On the road to the gallows, Cyrus Skinner broke suddenly from the guard, and ran off, shouting, “shoot! shoot!” His captors were too old hands to be thus baffled. They instantly secured him. He again tried the trick, when on the box; but he was quickly put up and held there till the rope was adjusted. This being finished, he was informed that he could jump whenever he pleased. Aleck seemed ashamed of Skinner’s attempt to escape, which the latter explained by saying that he “was not born to be hanged”—a trifling error.