Dutch John was not of this number. Alarm grew upon him day by day, after the execution of Ives. He knew that, with the unhealed bullet wound in his shoulder, his identity with the robbers who attacked Moody’s train would be clearly established. He went to Plummer with his fears. Plummer advised him to leave the Territory. In pursuance of this advice, he shouldered his saddle and left Bannack in the direction of Horse Prairie. A person who saw him leave, suspecting that he had designs upon a fine gray horse, wrote to the owners of the animal, warning them of his approach. They lay in watch for the thief, and discovered him sitting in the underbrush. They immediately hedged him in, and captured him. After a severe lecture and taking his saddle, they gave him an old mule and blanket, and bade him depart. Accompanied by a Bannack Indian, he rode slowly down the road leading to Salt Lake City. A few days after the execution of Ives, John X. Beidler, who had officiated on that occasion, went down the Salt Lake road to meet a train which was expected from Denver. Meeting it at Snake River, he returned with it to Beaverhead valley, where he was told of the attack, by Dutch John and Marshland, on Moody’s train, and furnished with a description of the robbers. His informant, believing that Moody’s shot would prove fatal, told him that he would know the body of the robber by his leggings. “I need a pair of leggings,” replied X., “and, if I find the man dead, will confiscate them.” Beidler turned back, and met Dutch John and the Indian in Beaver Cañon, at the toll-gate. Failing to recognize him as the robber, he offered him a drink from a bottle of schnapps. John’s hands were so severely frozen that he could not grasp the bottle. Beidler soaked them in water, to take the frost out. While thus employed, John asked, “Is it true that George Ives has been hanged?” “Yes,” replied Beidler; “he’s dead and buried.” “Who did it?” inquired John. “Oh, the Virginia and Nevada people.” “Did they find out anything?” “They found out some things,” said Beidler, “and are now after the robbers of Moody’s train. One of them, Dutch John, was shot, and I expect to find him dead upon the trail. If I do, I shall confiscate his leggings, for I need a pair very much.” “Would you take his leggings if you found him?” inquired Dutch John. “Of course I would, if he was dead,” said Beidler. They continued to chat till late in the evening, passing the night together, Beidler never suspecting him to be the robber he was in pursuit of. The next morning Beidler dressed John’s frozen hands, and they separated.