Intelligence of the discovery in 1861 of extensive placers on the head waters of Salmon River, excelling in richness any former locations, had been circulated through all the border towns during the following Winter. The excitement consequent thereon was intense. Such was the impatience of the people to effect an early arrival there that many left Walla Walla and Lewiston in mid-winter, and on their way thither perished in the snows which engorged the mountain passes. Others, more cautious, awaited the coming of warm weather, and made the journey,—tedious, difficult, and dangerous at best,—with comparative safety. Among the latter number were Charley Harper and his band of brigands. Mounted on strong, fleet horses which they had acquired during the winter, the criminal cavalcade with its chief at the head dashed up the river valley, insulting, threatening, or robbing every one so unfortunate as to fall in their way. Of the number prominent in the riotous column were Peoples, English, Scott, and Brockie—men whose deeds of villainy have blackened the criminal records of nearly all the larger cities of the Pacific slope. With none of the magnanimity which characterized Joaquin Murieta and the earlier brigands of California, and with all their recklessness of crime and murder, a meaner, baser, more contemptible band of ruffians perhaps never before disgraced the annals of the race. No crime was too atrocious for them to commit, no act of shame or wantonness was uncongenial to their grovelling natures. They were as totally depraved as a long and unchecked career of every variety of criminal indulgence could make them. Afraid of nothing but the law, and not afraid of that in these new and unorganized communities, they were little else than devils incarnate. Insensible to all appeals for mercy, and ever acting upon the cautious maxim that “dead men tell no tales,” the only chance for escape from death for those whom they assaulted was in their utter inability to do them injury. Human life regarded as an obstacle to their designs, was of no more importance than the blowing up of a safe, or any other act which stood between them and their prey. Of course it was impossible that such a band of desperadoes should pass over the long and desolate route from Walla Walla to Florence without adventure. On the second or third day after leaving Walla Walla, when nearing Florence, they met a company consisting of five men and a boy of sixteen, who were on their way to a neighboring camp. The brigands surrounded them, and with cocked pistols well aimed, gave the usual order, “Throw up your hands.” This order being obeyed, two of them dismounted to search the persons of their victims for treasure, the others meanwhile covering them with their revolvers. Five purses, containing amounts varying from fifty to five hundred dollars, were taken from them. The boy was overlooked, and had seated himself on a granite bowlder by the roadside.