His services were in almost daily demand by the road agents, to dress wounds received in broils among themselves, or while engaged in the commission of robbery. It was impossible, from his frequent contact with them, and the circumstances with which ofttimes he found them surrounded, for him to avoid a knowledge of their guilty enterprises. But he neither dared to decline to serve them, nor to divulge their villainy, well knowing that in either case, he would fall a victim to that summary vengeance, so promptly and fearlessly exercised in the case of Dillingham. He foresaw also, that a time must come when all the guilty misdeeds which he had been obliged to conceal, would be revealed, and that then the lovers of law and order would suspect the integrity of his motives, and possibly class him among the men of whom he justly stood so much in fear. But there was no remedy. He knew that his actions were narrowly watched, and that a word or glance indicating his suspicions would cost him his life. It was a happy day for him when, by the death of Plummer, his lips were unsealed. The robbers, in other instances than the one recorded of his attendance upon Plummer, were in the habit of using threats to control the doctor’s conduct. On one occasion in July, 1863, Plummer invited him to accompany him on a horseback excursion to his ranche on the Rattlesnake. Finding no one at the cabin on their arrival, Plummer asked the doctor to go with him down the creek and pick some berries. They soon came upon a large clump of birch bushes. Pulling them aside, Plummer disclosed an open space cut within the clump, in which were seated several men, seeing whom Glick drew back, but was told by Plummer to come in. He entered, and found himself amid five or six men with masked or blackened faces, of whom he recognized Moore and Billy Terwiliger. The latter was lying on a blanket, wounded in the leg by a bullet received in some affray. After dressing the wound, the doctor started with Plummer on the return to Bannack. While crossing the plateau between Rattlesnake and Bannack, Plummer suddenly wheeled in front of the doctor, and, cocking his pistol, thrust it into his face, saying, “Now you know all. These are my men. I’m their chief. If you ever breathe a word of what you’ve seen, I’ll murder you.” Under this kind of surveillance, the doctor lived until the robber band was destroyed. His discretion, only equalled by his kindness of heart, saved both his life from destruction by the robbers, and his good name from the public odium of the people. Montana has had no worthier or more useful citizen.