“I must see him immediately,” urged Beachy, with increasing earnestness. “My life depends upon it. Here, madam,” he continued, thrusting a hundred dollars into her hands, “secure me an interview as soon as possible. He is the only person here who can aid my escape. I dare not be seen, but will conceal myself in the clump until he comes.” Beachy says he never was satisfied whether it was gold or pure womanly sympathy for his apparent distress which obtained for him a speedy meeting. By assuming the character of a partner in the Boise enterprise who had miraculously escaped arrest, and was then in pursuit of his companions, he learned that the men he was pursuing intended to remain in San Francisco until they could have their dust, amounting to seventeen thousand dollars, coined, when they would go to New York by way of the Isthmus, and return to Virginia City in the spring. To make the delusion perfect, Beachy, at the close of the interview, gave his informant one hundred and fifty dollars, with which the latter purchased for him a horse, which he delivered to Beachy at a late hour of the evening, at East Portland, on the opposite bank of the Willamette River. Bidding him good-bye, Beachy mounted the horse, and was soon lost to view in the pine forest, his dupe believing that he had enabled him to escape the authorities of Boise. Two hours afterwards the horse was returned to its owner, and the purchase money restored. How to reach San Francisco in time to arrest the fugitives before their departure for New York, was not easy of solution. No steamer would leave Portland for ten days, and an overland journey of seven hundred miles, over the muddiest roads in the world, was the only alternative. The nearest telegraph station was at Yreka, four hundred miles distant. Wearied with the unremitting travel and excitement of the previous week, Beachy hired a buggy and left Portland at midnight, intending to overtake the coach which had left the morning before his arrival. This he accomplished at Salem, late in the afternoon of the next day. When the coach reached the mountains, its progress was too slow for his impatience, and he forsook it, and, mounting a horse placed at his disposal by an old friend, rode on, hoping to come up with the advance coach. He fell asleep while riding, and, on awakening, found himself seated upon the horse in front of its owner’s stable, at a village twenty miles distant from the one he had left. Here he hired a buggy and overtook the coach the next morning. Two days afterwards he arrived at Yreka. He immediately sent a telegram to the chief of the San Francisco police, and was overjoyed upon his arrival at Shasta, twenty-four hours afterwards, to receive a reply that the men he was pursuing were in prison, awaiting his arrival. At midnight of the second day following, he was admitted to the cell where the prisoners were confined.