Neil related the particulars of John’s career. “It is a burning shame—a reproach to the Territory, and will be an eternal reproach to us if we permit so great a villain to escape. Just reflect,—he is a horse-thief and a murderer, stained with blood, and covered with crimes. Let us arrest him at once.” [Illustration: NEIL HOWIE _Captor of “Dutch John”_ ] All to no purpose. The men, one and all, declined having anything to do with it. Meantime John came up and asked for some tobacco. “Have you any money?” inquired one of the men. “Not a cent,” was the reply. “Then,” said his interrogator, “we have no tobacco for you.” “Oh! let him have what he wants,” interposed Neil. “I will pay for it.” John’s face wore a grateful expression. He thanked Neil, and with the Indian took his departure. Neil made another hurried appeal, not to let the murderer and road agent escape, but the men refused to help. “Then,” said he, “I will arrest him alone,” and he strode rapidly after John, shouting, “Hallo, captain! hold on a minute.” John wheeled his mule half round, and sat awaiting the approach of Neil. To the stature and strength of a giant, John added a nature hardened by crime, and the ferocious courage of a tiger. His face, browned by exposure, reflected the dark passions of his heart, and was lighted up by a pair of eyes full of malignity. Nature had covered him with signs and marks indicative of his character. Neil, on the other hand, was rather under the medium size, with nothing in his general make-up that denoted uncommon strength or activity, though, when aroused, no mountain cat was more active in his movements, and strength seemed always to come to him equal to any emergency. His clear gray eye, calm and gentle in repose, became very powerful and commanding under excitement. With his gaze fixed steadily upon the ruffian, he marched rapidly towards him. John slewed his rifle around, grasping the barrel with his left, and the small of the stock with his right hand, as if preparing for a deadly aim. Neil’s hand fell with an admonitory ring upon the trusty revolver in his belt, which had never failed him. For an instant only, it seemed that either the rifle or pistol would decide the adventure; but the ruffian quailed before the determined gaze of Howie, who passed unharmed beyond the muzzle of his rifle, and stood with his hand upon the flank of the mule. Looking John steadily in the eye, in a quiet but authoritative tone, Neil said to him, “Give me your gun and get off your mule.” With blanched face and trembling hands, John complied, at the same time expressing his willingness to submit to the capture. “You have nothing to fear from me,” said he as he alighted, and handed the reins to Howie. It is said that occasions will always find men suited to meet them. This occasion found, among a crowd of twenty or more experienced mountaineers, only Neil Howie as the man endowed with moral and physical courage to grapple with it.