Thirty-One Years on the Plains and in the Mountains, Or, the Last Voice from the Plains: An Authentic Record of a Life Time of Hunting, Trapping, Scouting and Indian Fighting in the Far WestDrannan, William F.
History
Thirty-One Years on the Plains and in the Mountains, Or, the Last Voice from the Plains: An Authentic Record of a Life Time of Hunting, Trapping, Scouting and Indian Fighting in the Far West
Drannan, William F.
Frontier and pioneer life -- West (U.S.); Indians of North America -- Wars
Now I was satisfied that I had found the sheep and one of the men
and as good as got the other one where I could put my hand on him
at any time. I rode down to Canyonville and telegraphed Mr.
Manning, the sheriff, that I had found the sheep and one of the
men and had the other one located. He answered me by saying that I
would have help the following day from Roseburg, that being the
county seat of Douglas county, which is sixteen miles from
Canyonville, where I then was and which was in the same county. I
waited patiently the next day for assistance, but it did not come.
Late that evening I went to the constable of that precinct and
asked him to go with me and assist in making the arrest, but he
refused, saying: "That man Barton is a hard case. I don't want to
have anything to do with him." I did not tell him the particulars
of the case, and I must admit that I did not know enough of civil
law to know that it was necessary for me to be armed with a
warrant to go and make the arrest. On the refusal of the constable
to accompany me, I at once walked down to the stable and ordered
my horse saddled, and inquired the way to John Barton's place. The
proprietor of the stable told me how to go.
So concluding to tackle him alone, I mounted my horse just after
dark and started for Barton's Ferry. I found the place without
difficulty, and although I rode very slowly, I got to the river
some time before daylight. I tied my horse in the brush and walked
the road until daylight. As soon as it was daylight I saw the
house on the other side of the river, and kept my eye on it until
just before sunrise, when I saw the smoke commence to curl up from
the chimney, and in about fifteen minutes I saw a man come out in
his shirt sleeves and bare-headed. I at once mounted my horse and
rode down to the river and halloed for him to bring the boat over
as I wished to cross the river. He answered by saying: "I'll be
there in a minute as soon as I get my hat and coat." He stepped
into the house, got his hat and coat and came across. When he
landed I walked on to the boat and asked if he was Mr. Barton. He
said that was his name, and in a second he was looking down the
muzzle of my pistol, and I informed him that he was my prisoner.
He asked me what for. I said for the murdering of McMahon.
"Have they found the body?" were the first words that fell from
his lips, which he doubtless would not have uttered had I not
caught him off his guard. I told him they had, which was false.
"You want to take me away with you and not let me see my wife and
bid her good-bye?"
I informed him that I would, telling him that she could come to
see him if she liked. He offered all manner of excuses to get back
to his house. After I had listened awhile I gave him two minutes
to get off the boat and take the road, which he did at once. I did
not try to put the handcuffs on him alone, not wishing to give him
any drop on me whatever.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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