Among those who dreaded the arrival of the day of vengeance was a man passing by the assumed name of R. C. Rawley. He was no common loafer, originally; but was under another name and with a fairer character, a merchant in a large Western city, from which, owing to what precise discreditable cause we are uninformed, authentically he emigrated to Colorado, and there gradually sank down to the character and standard of a “bummer.” It was evident to all who knew him that he was a man of education and of some refinement; occasionally remarks made in his sober moments attested this, but a long course of brutal dissipation had rendered his acquirements worthless, and had so debased his morals, that he associated only with the thieves and marauders whose guilty career terminated as these pages have shown, upon the gallows. Robbed of all self-respect, and even ambition, R. C. Rawley, on his arrival in this country, attached himself as a hanger-on to the Road Agents and was the constant tool and companion of Stinson, Forbes Lyons and their associates. He sometimes seemed to become ashamed of his conduct, and worked for short periods, honestly earning his living; but such spells of good conduct were only occasional. He returned, uniformly, to his old habits, “like the sow that is washed to her wallowing in the mire.” Rawley was a good looking man, and, but for his habit of intoxication, he must have been handsome. In the winter of 1863-4, Rawley, though not closely identified with the band, yet bore a suspicious character, owing to his connection and association with them. He was seldom, indeed, on the road; but he acted as an inside spy. As soon as the first blow was struck at the Road Agents, he became nervous and excited in his demeanor, and warned by the promptings of a guilty conscience, he suddenly left Bannack, on a winter’s morning of such severity that nothing but the belief that detection and punishment awaited him, could have justified a sane man in undertaking a journey of any considerable length. He was popularly supposed to have gone south or to Boise. In an ill-starred hour, in the month of September, 1864, unexpectedly to most people, but with the knowledge of the Vigilantes, who had kept track of his movements, he suddenly returned to Bannack, thinking, doubtless, that all danger was past. He came back in rags, to find all his old friends gone, and looked like a lone chicken on a wet day. For some time after his return he kept quiet, and went to work for a man who lived down the canyon, in the neighborhood of New Jerusalem. Those who knew him, state that when he was sober, although he was not a first-class workman, yet he labored steadily and well; but, as may be conjectured, his frequent visits to Bannack, which always involved a spree of drunkenness, greatly impaired his usefulness.