On the following day we reached Rincon, the terminus of the Santa Fe Railroad at that time. I wired the officers of Socorro, New Mexico, from El Paso that I had captured Baca and was on my way to New Mexico with him. Baca's friends had also been informed of his arrest and lost no time in asking the Governor of New Mexico to have me bring the prisoner to Santa Fe as they feared mob violence at Socorro. When I reached San Marcial I was handed a telegram from the governor ordering me to bring Baca to Santa Fe and on no account to stop with him in Socorro. Because of delay on the railroad I did not reach Socorro until late at night. The minute the train stopped at that town it was boarded by twenty-five or thirty armed men headed by Deputy Sheriff Eaton. I showed Eaton the governor's telegram, but he declared Baca was wanted at Socorro and that was where he was going. I remonstrated with him and declared I was going on to Santa Fe with the prisoner. By this time a dozen armed men had gathered around me and declared, "Not much will you take him to Santa Fe." I was furious, but I was practically under arrest and powerless to help myself. Baca and I were transferred from the train to a big bus that was in waiting. The jailer entered first, then Baca was seated next to him and I sat next the door with my Winchester in my hand. The driver was ordered to drive to the jail. It was a bright moonlight night and we had not traveled far up the street before I looked out and saw at least a hundred armed men. They came from every direction. Boys, did you ever encounter a mob? I assure you it is far from a pleasant feeling when you face one. The men swarmed around the bus, three or four of them grabbed the horses by the bridle reins and held them, while others tried to force the bus doors. I asked the jailer if I could depend on him to help me stand the mob off, but he replied it would do no good. I was now madder than ever, and for the first time in my life I ripped out an oath, saying, "G-- d--n them, I am going to stand them off!" As the doors were forced I poked my Winchester out and ordered the mob to stand back or I would shoot. The men paid no more attention to my gun than if it had been a brown stick. A man standing beside the bus door seized the muzzle of my rifle and, with a quick jerk to one side, caused it to fly out of my hand and out upon the ground. By this time another of the mob grabbed me in the collar and proceeded to pull me out of the bus. I spread my legs and tried to brace myself, but another hard and quick jerk landed me out on the ground, where one of the men kicked me. I was tame now and made no effort to draw my pistol. One of the crowd said to me, "What in h--do you mean? We do not wish to hurt you but we are going to hang that d--n Mexican right now!"