The regular [Benton]
routine of business, dances, drunks and fist-fights met
with a sudden interruption on the 8th of August. Sitting in
a tent door that day I noticed an altercation across the
street, and saw a man draw a pistol and fire, and another
stagger and catch hold of a post for support. The first was
about to shoot again when he was struck from behind and the
pistol wrenched from his hand. The wounded man was taken
into a cyprian's tent near by and treated with the
greatest kindness by the women, but died the next day. It
was universally admitted that there had been no provocation
for the shooting, and the general voice was, "Hang
him!"
Next day I observed a great rush and cry in the street,
and looking out, saw them dragging the murderer along
towards the tent where the dead man lay. The entire
population were out at once, plainsmen, miners and women
mingled in a wild throng, all insisting on immediate
hanging. Pale as a sheet and hardly able to stand, the
murderer, in the grasp of two stalwart Vigilantes, was
dragged through the excited crowd, and into the tent where
the dead man lay, and forced to witness the laying out and
depositing in the coffin.
What was the object of this movement nobody knew, but
the delay was fatal to the hanging project. Benton had
lately been decided to be in the military reservation of
Fort Steele, and that day the General commanding thought
fit to send a provost guard into the city. They arrived
just in time, rescued the prisoner, and took him to the
guard-house, whence, a week later, he escaped.
But the excitement thus aroused seemed to have created a
thirst for blood. I had just retired to the tent when I
heard a series of fearful screams, and running to the door,
saw the proprietor of a saloon opposite beating his
"woman." He was a leading ruffian of the city, and of a
hundred men looking on not one felt called upon the
interfere. At length he released his hold, and struck her a
final blow on the nose which completely flattened that
feature, and sent her into the middle of the street, where
she lay with the blood gushing in torrents from her face,
mingling with the white dust and streaking her clothing
with gore. The provost guard arrived again, after it was
all over, and took the woman away, but paid no attention to
the man. Four days after, I saw them together again, having
apparently made it up and living on the same free and easy
terms of illegal conjugality. Two more rows wound up the
evening, the last ending with a perfect fusillade of pistol
shots, by which only two or three persons were "scratched"
and nobody "pinked." For a quiet railroad town I thought
this would do, and began to think of moving on.
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