In the month of July, 1864, the coach going from Virginia to Salt Lake was robbed, and a large booty in gold dust was the reward of the road agents. This was no sooner reported to the Committee than prompt measures were taken to pursue the perpetrators of the crime.
A party of twenty-one of the old veterans who had hunted down Plummer's band left Nevada, on Sunday, the 28th day of August, and camped at William's Ranch for the night. On Monday the party rode all day, never halting from breakfast time till evening. The rain fell in torrents, rendering cooking impossible; so a hard bite was all that was available, and each man coiled. himself up in his blanket with his saddle for a pillow, and growled himself to sleep as best he could. Four guards came into camp with the stock at daylight; whereupon the troop saddled up, without taking breakfast, every one of the "crowd" being at the same time wet, "dry," hungry and saucy. One of the boys had managed to bring along a bottle of (contraband) whiskey, as he said, in case of snake-bites; but, under the circumstances, as far as can be ascertained, no one refused a mouthful of the aqua vitae. They had forgotten the "weights and measures" of their school days, and at that camp, it was found that there were no scruples to a dram. As one of the party observed, it was "big medicine, you bet." A ride in the wet of fifteen miles brought them to Joe Patte's and breakfast, which latter being despatched, and the former having received their adieux, the "boot and saddle" once more sounded, and they proceeded on their journey, changing horses at the Canyon Station, and finally halting on the banks of Medicine Lodge Creek, in the midst of a heavy rain storm, without shelter.
In the morning everybody felt wet, of course, and unamiable, probably; but as "business is business" when Montana Vigilantes are afoot, nothing objectionable to morality was offered, except an odd oath, caused by a stiff-legged cayuse, or a refractory buckle, which, it is charitably hoped, the rain washed from the record. The probabilities favor the supposition, if the angel made the entry in his book on the banks of that creek. If not, provided he was a good angel, he took no notes till after breakfast, and dinner, at Camos Creek, had somewhat soothed and modified the water-soaked but irrepressible rangers.
Saddling up once more, the party loped along a little more cheerfully, reaching Snake River at ten p. m., where they, "their wearied limbs to rest," lay down -in a haystack.
After breakfast they turned their horses' heads down stream, and camped in the sage brush, without water, and with poor feed for stock. The Vigilantes were supperless. On Friday they borrowed the necessary "batterie de cuisine" from the Overland station, and cooked their breakfast, after which they rode to Meek and Gibbon's Ferry, where they camped, and turned out the stock in Fort Hall bottom.
A suspicious character having entered the camp, two of the boys tracked him to his own "lodging on the cold ground;" finding however, that there was no evidence of anything wrong about his halting-place, they returned.
At the Ferry the Vigilantes met an old friend -a brother of the early days of '63-4. He was freighting poultry and hogs to Virginia from Salt Lake City. Glad to see his old comrades on their righteous errand, he presented them with a thirty-pound pig. A family of Morrisites living in a cabin at the Ferry cooked it for them, and it was consumed with immense zest. Here they learned that Jem Kelly had boarded in the house, and, on being asked to pay, he had threatened to whip the old man. He said that he had a partner coming from Salt Lake, and that when he arrived he should have a plenty of money. He also intimated to one of the men living there that his partner was one of the men who robbed Hughes, when a passenger in the coach. Kelly also said that there was a big camp of emigrants, with a lot of mules, near there, on their way to Oregon. He proposed that they should stampede the stock, and that if the men offered a large enough reward, they should return them; but if not, they would drive them off and sell them. The man refused to have any hand in the matter, and was travelling towards the Butte, to buy some lame cattle from the emigrants, when Kelly, who started with him, fell behind, and drawing a pistol presented it at him. The man turned at once, and Kelly, who saw something that scared him in the expression of the man's eye, had not nerve to shoot, though he wanted his money. He therefore turned it off as a joke.
The man failed to purchase the cattle and. returned. Kelly, who had parted from him, came in some time during the next day, bringing with him a horse, saddle and birdle. The emigrants had this horse to drive loose stock, and, as is usual with animals so trained, he followed the wagons, picking up his own living. One day he lagged behind, and they went back for him. It is supposed Kelly watched them from behind the crest of a hill, and catching the horse rode off with him.
A party of ten men, with a captain, were sent to scout on the Portneuf Creek, and were mounted on the best animals. They went to Junction Station, Fort Hall, where the overland boys shod the horses for them. From that place they rode to Portneuf. The squad made a night march, and camped at eleven p. m., without feed for man or beast, during a hurricane of wind. Oliver's coach went by, and when the driver spied the horses, he thought of robbers, and the passengers looked mightily scared. They drove by on a keen run, much to the amusement of the boys, who saddled up at two o'clock a. m. The men had no bedding and no "grub." The culinary furniture was a tin cup, in each man's belt, and a good set of teeth. They started at two o'clock a. m., because the stock was so hungry and restless. They kept a bright lookout for Kelly.
At daybreak the saw a camp-fire. They rode up thinking of good times, but found only a lot of Shoshone Indians, who had little but choke-cherries to eat. The chief shortly after came to the captain, and offered him a broiled trout, which he ate and then fell asleep, while the others were regaling themselves on choke-cherries, supplied by little naked papooses. An old squaw seeing the leader asleep when the sun rose, built a willow wigwam over him, and when he awoke, he seemed considerably exorcised at the sight of his house, which seemed like Jonah'a gourd. This was too much for both boys and the Indians, and they laughed heartily.
The detachment saddled up and went on to Portneuf, where they ordered breakfast at eleven a. m. at Oliver's Station. Here they learned that a party of California prospectors, ten in number, all dressed in buckskin, had caught Kelly, in a haystack. He had another horse by this time (he had sold one at the ferry). The party went back for two and a half miles, on Sunday morning.
The captain was ahead, scouting with one of the boys, and found the dead body of a man floating in the creek. There was a shot wound through the back of the head. The corpse was wrapped in a grey blanket, with a four strand lariat around. the neck and shoulders, as though the body had been dragged and sunk. There were two camp fires near, which seemed to be ten or fifteen days old. They were situated in a thicket of willows. There was a large boulder at the bottom of the eddy, where there was no current, and the men thought that the body had been tied to it, but that it had broken loose and floated.
The Vigilantes went back, got a pick and shovel, and buried him. The body was dreadfully decomposed, and it was both difficult and disgusting to raise it; however, they consulted, and slipping willows under it, they reached over, and joining the tops, lifted out altogether, and laid the putrified remains in their willow grave. Willows were placed below and around them, and having covered them with earth and stone, they, getting a tailboard from a pilgrim's wagon, wrote an inscription, stating his finding by the Vigilantes, and the date of his burial. The men then jumped into the saddle, and rode until after night, coming up with a freight train for Virginia, camped on the road. The captain told his story, whereupon the wagon boss ordered them a good warm drink and a hearty supper, sending his herder to look after the stock. The command slept soundly till daylight, and then rode twenty-five miles to the ferry, to breakfast. They found the main body still camped there, and they were glad to see the California buckskin-rangers, and Jem Kelly in custody.
A trial was called, and the evidence being heard, Kelly was unanimously condemned to death. While pinioned, he asked for his pipe, and got a smoke, which he seemed to enjoy very much. A knot was tied and greased, and when all was working right, the party marched down to a Balm of Gilead tree, and, in presence of the prisoner, rigged a scaffold by cutting a notch into the tree, and putting one end of a plank from a pilgrim wagon into the notch, and supporting the other on a forked stick. The captain asked Kelly if he had anything to say. He answered that if he had never drunk any whiskey he would have been a better man. He said it was hard to hang him after whipping him. While he was on the trap, a couple of Shoshone warriors came up, and looked on with evident amazement. When the plank was knocked from under him, the Indians gave a loud "Ugh!" and started at full speed for their camp. After he had hung some fifteen minutes, the buckskins party came up, and having made some inquiries, they helped to bury him in a willow coffin. The Vigilantes then returned home without any further incident of travel worth recording.