“He quailed, for he saw I had the advantage of him. His comrades now approached the gate from without. “‘Break down the door,’ he shouted, and, adding an opprobrious epithet, ordered them to kill me. “Still holding my pistol level with his temple, I replied sternly, “‘If they attempt such a movement, I will kill you instantly.’ “He knew me to be desperately in earnest, and, taking the hint, told them to go away. They obeyed. “‘Now, sir,’ I persisted, still holding him under fire, ‘unbuckle and drop your belt, pistol, and knife, and walk from there, so that I can get them.’ “He begged, but I was inexorable. He tried to throw me off my guard by referring pleasantly to our former acquaintance, and assuring me he was only jesting, and would not harm me for the world. I told him I had been warned of his coming and its object, and detailed with some particularity the conversation he had with his companions at the time they agreed upon the expedition. He stoutly denied it, and demanded the source of my information. Knowing that he was ignorantly superstitious, I gave him to understand that it was entirely providential. For a moment he seemed dum-founded, and, hardened as he was in crime, showed by his action that he believed it. I made him sit down, and kept him in range of my revolver all night, conversing with him, meantime, on such subjects as were best calculated to win his confidence. The night seemed a year in duration, but he told me his entire history—his birth, the errors of his early manhood, his first and only love, the illness and death of his betrothed, his resolution to lead a criminal life, his murder of Shoot, his escape, and many other murders that he afterwards committed, and of his intention to murder me and dispose of my cattle. I never heard or read a more horrible history than that narrated by this man of blood. He lost no opportunity to throw me off my guard, but I knew too well what would be the result. He was my prisoner, under absolute control, as long as his life was in my power. “Morning came. Helm’s companions were still lingering near the stockade. I ordered them to withdraw a certain distance, that I might with safety release my prisoner. I then opened the gate, and with my double-barrelled shotgun levelled upon him, bade him go, assuring him that if we ever met again I would shoot him on sight. He marched out and away with his comrades. The next intelligence I received concerning him was the announcement of his execution by the righteous Vigilantes of Montana in 1864. “I beg pardon, gentlemen, for detaining you so long. My story is done.” After a moment’s silence one of our circle, a nervous, excitable young man, remarked, “We cannot consider the story completed until we know something more of the young lady. She is really the object of the most interest.”