“When near the Node ranch Witt’s horse gave out. He told them to ride on to Harrison. They asked what they should do with the horses. Witt told them to ride into a gulch a mile or so from town, hide the saddles and shoot the horses. After leaving Witt they consulted what best to do. They had but 50 cents between them. Jones wanted to strike across the country. Walker insisted on going to Harrison and taking the train. When near Harrison they hid their saddles and turned their horses loose, but did not shoot them. When they boarded the train at Harrison they were paralyzed with fright to see that Harvey and Witt had a gang of six or seven with them that had got on the train somewhere along the line. They ordered them to take a seat among them in the rear end of the rear car. Jones did not know them, but is sure that they were the gang that intended to kill them the night before. Jones said he expected to be taken from the train and killed at some station, or killed and thrown from the train while it was in motion. It has since been learned that Bill McCann, a miner at Glenrock, Gibson, Wellman, who was since killed in Johnson county, and probably Craig, were among the gang on the train assisting Harvey. Jones says when they arrived at Crawford it was very dark, and before the train fairly stopped McCann and others rushed Walker out of the front end of the car, and Harvey, Witt and one or two others grabbed him and jumped from the rear platform. He did not know where they were, or that they were near a station, and thought they were going to kill him then and there. He drew his gun and told them to stand back or he would shoot. The cowards were afraid to seize him and were trying to reason with him. Marshal Morrison was on hand to arrest Jones and Walker in obedience to a telegram from here. He did not know them, but the gun play and loud talk at the rear end of the train attracted his attention. He demanded to know what the trouble was about. ‘They are trying to kill me!’ yelled Jones. ‘No, we are not,’ replied Harvey; ‘this old man is crazy and we are taking him east to an asylum. I wish you would help us take him over to the B. & M. train.’ ‘It’s a lie! I’m not crazy!’ cried the poor old man; ‘they are trying to kill me.’ Just then Witt chirped in: ‘This man is my uncle and we are taking him to his home in the East. Come, uncle,’ said he, turning to Jones, ‘don’t act that way; please don’t, uncle.’ ‘I’m not your uncle!’ protested Jones. ‘Give me that gun,’ said Morrison. ‘Who are you?’ said the poor old man. ‘I’m the city marshal here,’ he replied. ‘Then, I demand your protection,’ said Jones; ‘I am a witness against the men who killed Champion and Ray up in Johnson county, and these are cattlemen who are trying to kill me to keep me from testifying against them. They have just killed my partner back there.’ Instantly the marshal and an assistant put the handcuffs on Jones and Witt and started for the jail. On the way