But less than a week later it had occasion to remember the incident! The stage was held up and robbed in the deep woods just before it entered the town. Old Bailey, gallantly attempting resistance, was brought down with three bullets from the revolvers of the highwaymen. But the keen eye of the old Westerner somehow recognized the two assailants. Before he died, every one knew that the bandits were “Pete” Slocum and “Red” Ritter, two of the worst characters in the valley. Yet no effort was made to apprehend them. They quietly disappeared. No one assumed authority to trace them and administer punishment. Nevertheless, two days afterward the bodies of both men were found on the post-office steps. The looped ends of the ropes with which justice had been done upon them had been left around their necks. And on the shirt-front of each there was a piece of black paper about four inches square, with a red J in the center! This disquieting incident was quickly followed by others. “Big Bill” Bondy, slayer of “Gabby” Taylor—and others—was found sprawled out on the floor of his shack with a bullet-hole in his forehead. The room showed abundant evidences of a struggle—and the red J was pinned on his breast! In the weeks that succeeded, other leaders of the worse element, men whose pistol-stocks bore many a notch, and whose sense of decency and morality bore more, met the same fate. After a particularly notorious example of his marksmanship, and disregard for such trifles as the conventions, one would be located swinging from a tree; another discovered, lifeless, in his cabin; still another picked up, now and then, from the dust of the road. In every case the same terrible red letter on the body showed whence the retribution had come. Fear and excitement ran high in the valley. Men became cautious about venturing out after sunset. All went fully armed. But, withal, it did not escape the notice of many that the better inhabitants were not molested. Only those whose crimes were known and certain had suffered. There was a large element which found relief and satisfaction in that reflection. Rumors began to spread of night-riders roaming the valley. On several occasions pale-faced men galloped up to the “Silver Star” and reported having seen small troops of horsemen flitting along the dark roads. Their tales were usually incoherent and contradictory; but all tallied in one particular—that the riders wore some kind of long, dark, flowing garment, and that nothing could be seen of their faces. It was observed also that certain of the lesser desperadoes were mysteriously disappearing from time to time and failing to return. Their shacks betrayed signs of a hasty departure. Invariably hoof-prints around their deserted cabins indicated that a considerable number of horses had been present.