XXVII

SOME NEVADA TRAGEDIES

 [From James G. Scrugham, Nevada: The Narrative of the Conquest of a Frontier Land (1935), vol. I]

The Story of Mouse, the Murderous Pahute

            One of the wildest frontier lands left in the United States is embraced in the southern tip of the State of Nevada, between the confluence of the Virgin and Colorado rivers and the site of the construction of the great Boulder dam project.

            Some thirty-five years ago this area was the scene of one of the most remarkable man hunts which ever took place within the confines of the state.

            The chief actors in this thrilling drama were eight in number, three Pahute Indians and five white men.

            The leading character was an Indian named "Mouse" by his fellow tribesmen, from his habit of hiding out in the brush and his sly and silent movements. Although of a retiring and surly disposition, he was a good worker and possessed a crafty and intelligent mind.

            The next character in importance and interest was one "Red Eye," the most skilled Indian tracker of his tribe. He derived his name from bloodshot flecks which were always visible in the whites of his eyes, and was well liked by the white men on account of his loyalty and industry as a ranch hand.

            The third Indian character was a fierce old squaw who proved to be the Nemesis of the story, stirred to heroic action by the theft of a large and much prized cabbage from her garden.

            Of the white actors, the most important was Daniel Bonelli, a famous pioneer settler of early days. He conducted a hay and vegetable ranch near the junction of the Virgin and Colorado rivers, and also operated a ferry over the latter stream connecting with the main trail south through Arizona. He employed a large number of white men and Indians to assist in his livestock, farming and ferrying enterprises, among whom was a strong, fearless cowpuncher named George Sherwood, who later appears prominently in the story.

            Other white men who figured notably in the tragedy were two young prospectors named Davis and Stearns, who were searching for placer gold on the bars of the Colorado River. These men were accompanied by an elderly prospector known as Major Greenowalt, whose chief function was to serve as camp tender.

            The story begins at Bonelli's ranch on the Colorado River. The place was then on the main line of travel between Oregon, Idaho, Utah and the rich mining camps of Pioche and Delamar on the north to points in Arizona, Mexico and elsewhere in the south. Here passed a continual stream of travelers, many of whom were fugitives from justice seeking oblivion in distant isolated places. Others were nomads seeking the warmth of southern climes in winter and the coolness of the high lands of the north in the

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summer. In addition to revenues derived from his ferry over the Colorado and sale of hay and supplies to passers by, Bonelli also did an extensive trade in meat and produce with the flourishing mining camps at El Dorado Canyon, Chloride, Gold Basin and a score of other places.

            In the operation of his ranch, Bonelli employed several Indian hands, including Mouse and Red Eye.

            On a spring evening in 1896 when the story begins, the Indian Mouse in some way secured a quantity of whisky, which he drank. Under the alcoholic stimulant, his naturally vicious disposition had no restraint, and Mouse started a promiscuous shooting at the other Indians in the camp. They fled to the main ranch and informed Bonelli that Mouse was on a killing rampage and their lives had only been saved by the bad aim of the drunken aggressor.

            Bonelli and some of his ranch hands then went to the Indian camp and disarmed the crazed Mouse, locking him in an adobe outhouse for the night. The next morning the Indian had become sober and appeared entirely docile. However, Bonelli, knowing the disposition of Mouse, gave him his discharge and ferried him over to the Arizona side, after returning to the man his gun and ammunition taken away the previous evening.

            From Bonelli's Ferry, the Indian went to a mining camp called White Hills and worked a few days in cutting Joshua trees for fuel. Becoming tired of the labor, he stole a horse and set out for one of his old haunts at Indian Springs, some eighty miles away at the foot of the Charleston Mountains.

            Mouse attempted to cross the Colorado River back to Nevada at a point opposite the old trail up the Las Vegas Wash, evidently intending to obtain food supplies at the Las Vegas ranch while enroute to his destination.

            Just before he reached the Nevada shore, his horse became so deeply mired in the quicksands that he could not be extricated. Mouse was compelled to leave the struggling animal, and he made his way up the river toward a prospector's camp which he sighted on the Arizona shore. This camp was occupied at the time by the three men mentioned above, Davis, Stearns and Major Greenowalt, who were prospecting for placer gold in the river bars. They had a small boat which they used for the purpose and accomodatingly crossed the river to meet the Indian when he signaled to them.

            After being fed by the prospectors, who were obviously tenderfeet in the country, the crafty Mouse aroused their interest by relating the story of a fictitious ledge of gold bearing quartz which he claimed to have discovered in an almost inaccessible canyon, some ten miles back from the camp.

            Early the following day, accompanied by Davis and Stearns, the Indian started for the scene of the alleged find, Greenowalt remaining at the river location. Davis and Stearns were never again seen alive.

            The next morning the scene of the story shifts back to the Bonelli ranch, some twenty miles further up the river from the prospectors' camp.

            Among the horses on the place were two handsome gray geldings, half-brothers five and six years old, which had been bought by Bonelli from a band of well bred horses being driven from northern Nevada to the Arizona market. These animals were the

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best on the place, but one was a much better saddle horse than the other owing to a more tractable disposition.

            During the time Mouse worked on the ranch, he was familiar with the horses and their characteristics. On the morning in question, when the ranch hands went into the fields to harness the stock, the best gray horse was found to be missing. This caused no particular excitement until it was found that his bridle was also gone.

            Speedily circling the fields in search of tracks, the buckaroos discovered where the lost horse had been led out toward the Virgin River by a man wearing leather boots, and who mounted at the bank before plunging into the stream. A hasty inspection of the shore lines revealed no place where the rider could have come out from the river. A general alarm was sounded and all hands set out to find the trail of the thief. After a couple of hours delay, the outcoming tracks were finally located on the opposite side, more than a half mile above where the stolen animal had entered the water. The extraordinary effort made to throw pursuers off the track indicated that the horse stealer was a person of some skill and experience, who had gained a probable ten or twelve hour start on possible pursuers. However, Bonelli acted promptly. He armed two of his best riders with Winchester rifles and instructed them to stay with the trail until they recovered the horse or killed the thief.

            The pursuing posse followed the tracks up the sandy shores of the Rio Virgin until they reached the Bitter Springs Wash, the drainage channel for a great range of territory to the west of the Virgin.

            At the head of this wash are springs of bitter waters which will support life although hardly palatable enough for human consumption. Here the crafty Mouse, for he was the thief, left the bottom of the wash where trailing was easy, and took to the dolomitic limestone banks where vegetation and soft ground was scanty, and no imprints were made. However, the very hardness of the ground defeated the purpose of the Indian thief. The rough limestone caused the horse's hoofs to bleed, leaving a plain track for the pursuers to follow.

            All through the long afternoon and in the moonlit evening, the Bonelli buckaroos followed the trail. About ten o'clock at night while going over a steep declivity covered with loose lime shale, one of the horses missed his footing, and started both riders and their steeds to sliding into the precipitous gulch below. When the descent was stopped, both horsemen were so exhausted from the efforts of the day that they dismounted and unsaddled their animals, leaving their bridles on.

            Both men wrapped themselves in their saddle blankets and took turns at sleeping through the remainder of the night. On the following morning they were up at the first peep of dawn ready to resume the trail. However, it was found that the horse who had missed his footing was so badly bruised and cut that he could hardly walk and the trailers decided to go back to the Bonelli ranch for reinforcements.

            On arriving home early in the afternoon and reporting their adventures, the master of the ranch immediately detailed George Sherwood, his ranch foreman, and Red Eye, the skilled Indian tracker, to follow the thief to the end. From the information avail-

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able, Sherwood and Red Eye decided that the horse thief was heading for the Las Vegas ranch, seventy-five miles away, as that was the nearest food and water available.

            Pushing their horses to the utmost, the trailers arrived at their destination the second evening after leaving the Bonelli ranch. Then it was found that the Indian Mouse had arrived the night before on foot, wearing leather boots, with a story of having killed his crippled horse in the Muddy range at a point near where the first pair of pursuers had lost the bloody trail the day before.

            It then became obvious that Mouse was the thief, and that the lost horse was dead, otherwise he would have been brought in for water. As further evidence of the guilt of the Indian, he had silently slipped away in the night soon after he was fed by the ranchmen, and his tracks indicated that he had made directly for the rugged fastnesses of the Charleston Mountains, some thirty miles away.

            Successful pursuit was impossible, so after two days rest, Sherwood and Red Eye started on their return to the Bonelli place to inform their employer of the identity of the criminal. Arriving at the foot of the Las Vegas Wash, where Mouse had lost his first stolen horse in the quicksands of the Colorado River a few days before, Sherwood and his companion saw a flock of buzzards circling around and eating the remains of the animal which projected from the quicksands.

            As night was approaching, they rode up the river to a point opposite the prospectors' camp. Here Major Greenowalt rowed over and informed them that his partners had left five days before with an Indian named Mouse, who was to show them the location of a rich gold ledge. The Major was greatly disturbed by the protracted absence of his companions as they had only carried food and water for a one day trip.

            On hearing the Major's story, both Sherwood and Red Eye became apprehensive that the surly Mouse, with whom they were well acquainted, had added murder to his crime of horse theft. The next morning they rode back to the home ranch and reported their information and suspicions to Mr. Bonelli.

            The aroused ranch owner immediately organized a posse who went down the river to seek the missing men. Again the indomitable Red Eye took up the trail over rough and hard ground. After two days of tedious tracking, Red Eye finally led the posse to the foot of a step declivity where the mutilated bodies of Davis and Stearns were discovered. The boots had been removed from the feet of Stearns, accounting for the boot tracks made by Mouse when he had stolen the gray gelding at the Bonelli ranch.

            Reconstructing the tragedy, it appeared that Mouse had taken the lead until he enticed the two prospectors to the lonely place where the bodies were found. There he suddenly turned and vented his blood lust against the white race by shooting both Davis and Stearns.

            The bodies of the unfortunate gold seekers were carried down to the river, then transported 100 miles in skiffs to Needles, California, from whence the remains were shipped back to relatives in the East.

            With his dastardly acts fully revealed, Mouse became a hunted outcast, to be killed on sight. Even his tribal compatriots were in terror of him and sought his extermination as a crazed killer.

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            For two years the murderer remained at large, living on seeds, nuts, rodents and making an occasional raid on a prospectors camp for flour, bacon and beans. There were found evidences of where Mouse had killed a wild mustang at a water hole and made jerky of the meat.

            Finally there came an end to this bold and much feared outlaw. In course of his wanderings, he came to a mountain overlooking a narrow valley where some of his fellow tribesmen had a little truck garden by a water hole. He descended in the night and stole some corn and a cabbage to assuage his hunger.

            This act led to his undoing. The cabbage belonged to an astute old squaw, who picked up the trail and followed it enough to identify it as belonging to Mouse from certain peculiarities of gait with which she was familiar.

            Returning to the camp the old squaw set up a hue and cry, which brought about the speedy organization of a well armed posse to endeavor to capture the murderer. Red Eye, the tracker, led the hot pursuit. Day and night continued the chase, first through the flaming red sand stones of the Valley of Fire, then up the Meadow Valley Wash to Cave Springs and back again toward the Muddy River.

            Bonelli had relays of men to provide food and water for the pursuers, as he was determined that the miscreant should not again escape.

            The track was lost and found, then lost and found again. Mouse was using every art of concealment, but the tireless Red Eye never gave up the trail.

            After nearly two weeks of hide and seek, early one morning the posse cornered Mouse at a lonely water hole on a gypsum flat near the Muddy River. Here the outlaw made his last stand. Cursing and screaming, Mouse exchanged shot for shot with his pursuers. However, his pistols were no match for the high powered rifles of the posse. The savage murderer finally fell with his body literally riddled with bullets. Thus was avenged the deaths of Davis and Stearns, and the whole countryside felt relief from the sinister shadow of the Indian Mouse.

The Story of Aaron Winters

            The vast deserts of Southern Nevada have been the home of some remarkable characters, but none more interesting than Aaron Winters, a frontiersman who settled in the Ash Meadows in Nye County, more than fifty years ago.

            The reason for his migration to that remote spot need not be delved into at this time, but was said to be connected with sheriffs and arrest warrants in some other places. In the year 1880, Aaron Winters was living with his wife Rosie, near the Big Spring in the Ash Meadows, close to the California line. Long years afterward, the bed of sticky white clay that lay between his house and the spring, was found to be the best of materials for use in filtering oils and gasolines, and the product has brought large financial returns to the lucky discoverers. But the internal combustion engine had not been invented at that time and the nearest railroad was more than two hundred miles away.

            The home of Winters was in a low stone building which he had constructed. The roof was thatched with tiles. A further description of the place is given by John R. Spears, in his book on Death

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Valley. He writes that the single room within was about fifteen feet square. In front was a canvas-covered addition of about the same size. The earth, somewhat cleared of broken rock originally there, served as a floor for both rooms. There was a door to the stone structure, and directly opposite this was a fireplace, while a cook-stove stood on a projecting rock at one side of it. At the right was a bed, and at the foot of the bed a few shelves for dishes. A cotton curtain was stretched over some clothing hanging on wooden pegs in the corner. On the other side was the lady's boudoir, a curiosity in its way. There was a window with a deep ledge there. A newspaper with a towel covered the ledge, in the center of which was a starch box, supporting a small looking-glass. On each side of the mirror hung old brushes, badly worn bits of ribbon and some other fixings for the hair. Handy by was a lamp-mat, lying on another box, and covered with bottles of Magnolia Balm and Florida Water, all empty, but still cherished by the wife, a comely, delicate Spanish-American woman with frail health and little fitted for the privations of the desert. The shelves about the room and the rude mantel over the fireplace were spread with covers made of notched sheets of newspaper. Two rocking chairs had little tidies on their backs. The low flat pillows were covered with shams and the bed itself with a tawny spread. In place of a library, there were a number of copies of the Police Gazette. There was a flour barrel against the wall, a small bag of rice near by, and two or three sacks of horse feed in a corner. The sugar, coffee, and tea were kept under the bed.

            The water of the spring ran down the hill and formed a pool in front of the house, and here a number of ducks and chickens, with a pig and a big dog, formed a happy group, a group that rambled about in the house as well as romped beside the water of the spring. A few cattle grazed on the bunch-grass of the valley that stretched away before the house, gray and desolate.

            One day, about the year 1880, a strolling prospector came along, bound probably, from some Nevada town to Resting Springs to eat up a grub-stake. He tarried over night at the Winters home, and told Winters a long story about the borax deposits to the north in Nevada, and what a great fortune awaited the man who could find more borax deposits. Winters was a shrewd fellow, and he asked many questions in a casual way and said nothing in return. Among other things, the prospector told him that one could test a supposed deposit of borax by pouring a chemical over some of the stuff and then firing the mixture. If it was borax the mixture would burn with a green flame.

            When his guest had gone, Winters made haste to prepare to search for borax. He had been in Death Valley more than once, had seen stuff there that answered the description of Nevada borax, and he was going to see what Death Valley marsh held.

            He took his wife with him when he went prospecting in Death Valley. This was due to one of his peculiar characteristics. It happens sometimes that a long spell of rainy weather prevails over the desert in the spring of the year. When the rain at last clears off and the warm sun comes out, countless millions of plants spring up from the dust and sand, and the arid waste becomes one vast carpet of fragrant flowers. Aaron Winters was like the desert he lived on. His character was an arid waste in most respects, but he loved his wife, and she loved the desert flowers.

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            Going over to Death Valley, this strange couple camped on Furnace Creek, and going down into the marsh gathered a small quantity of the most likely-looking deposit they could find, Winters "talking all the while teetering and wabbling about," as was his habit when excited. Then they went back to camp and got supper, for the fire test could not be made by daylight.

            At last the sun went down and the flaming colors in the western sky faded and darkened until the shadows in the gorge of the Funeral Mountains where Winters was camped became absolutely black. By the faint glow of a few dying coals Winters and his wife sat down on the sand, put a saucer of the material on a rock between them, poured the chemicals over it, and then Winters scratched a match to fire the mixture. How would it burn? For years they had lived as the Piutes live on the desert. Not only had the wife to do without the little luxuries and comforts dear to a woman's heart ; they both had lived on mesquite beans and chuckwallas when the flour and bacon were gone—they had even gone hungry for lack of either. Would the match change all that? Winters held the blaze to the mixture in the saucer with a trembling hand, and then shouted at the top of his voice : "She burns green, Rosie ! We're rich, by—."

            They had found borax. William T. Coleman, noted as the leader of the San Francisco Vigilance Committee, and in other ways as well, was then a borax magnate. So was Mr. F. M. Smith. Soon after the news "that it had burned green" reached San Francisco, two agents were sent by the firm of Coleman and Smith to the rude home in Ash Meadows. They found Winters a tough fibered man, short in stature, stout in frame, dark-haired and with a full, florid face—past sixty years of age, but well preserved—in fact in every way a rugged frontiersman. He was slow of speech, somewhat reserved and unapproachable in manner, but a hearty, square man, bluff, brave and generous. When it was understood that the newcomers were there for business, Rosie got a bag of pine nuts somewhere in the camp, and while cracking and eating these around the camp fire the bargain was made. The deposit brought $20,000.

            On getting his money, Winters went over to Pahrump oasis in Nevada, and bought out one Charles Bennett, who had made a ranch there, bargaining to pay $20,000 for the outfit. Then he and Rosie sat down there and enjoyed life for a time, but the hardships previously endured had been too great for the wife. Prosperity came too late, and within two or three years she died.

            One more characteristic story is related of Winters. It happened in the usual course that he had to go to Belmont, the county seat, one fall to pay his taxes. It was a journey of over two hundred miles, and Winters rather expected that some one would "hold him up" for what money he had along, and prepared for it by putting a worthless pistol in a holster on the dash-board of his buck-board, and a first class navy revolver under the cushion.

            Sure enough, at a convenient place, as he neared the Beatty ranch, two men "got the drop on him," and he was obliged to get off the vehicle and deliver up his cash. This he did with much talk and palaver. He was going to Belmont to pay taxes, and it was all the money he had and all he could raise. If he didn't pay the taxes he'd be ruined, and wouldn't the gentlemen be kind to an old man and give it back. As he talked he was "wabbling and

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teetering about" beside the buggy in his most nervous fashion. It made the road agents laugh to see him, made them laugh so that after a little they were thrown off their guard. Then one of them saw the worthless pistol on the dash-board and pulling it from the holster, turned and with a louder jeer than ever showed it to his partner.

            At that, Winters' turn had come. In an instant he had drawn the revolver from under the cushion and shot one man dead, while the other, with his laugh turned into a chatter of fear, threw up his hands and begged for mercy.

            Thereat, Winters disarmed him, made him put the corpse on the buck-board and then walk under the muzzle of the revolver into the Beatty ranch. There the story was told and the robber was taken to Belmont, tried and sent to the penitentiary. Later through the influence of Winters, the culprit was released, taken to Pahrump and employed for more than a year as a ranch hand.

The Story of El Dorado Canyon

            One of the most active, yet little known of the Southern Nevada camps was at El Dorado Canyon. This mining camp is located about fifty miles below old Callville, at which latter place the Colorado turns east at the "Big Bend" and where the Boulder Canyon begins. Today the road winds down from the desert beyond Searchlight through a cleft in the steep mountain wall until at the mouth of the canyon it comes out upon a mighty rushing river which could hold within its banks the combined streams of Nevada. As early as 1861 these mines were known to Americans. In that year were discovered the two important locations known respectively as the Techatticup and the Queen City, or, as later designated, the Savage.

            But not until 1863 did they excite interest, and then because of the prospecting done by the California Volunteers, Capt. Charles Atchison, Company I, of the Fourth Regiment of Infantry, which was stationed at Fort Mohave. The company consisted largely of miners, and in scouting they overlooked nothing.

            Neither were their finds confined to El Dorado Canyon. Mohave County, Arizona, was thoroughly explored, and Stockton Hill, Cerbat, and Chloride in the Cerbat Mountains, and Oatman, Gold Roads and Secret Pass in the River Range near the Old Post were discovered about this time.

            In consequence of the many discoveries a little mill was erected at El Dorado Canyon in 1865 or 1866, but it was very defective and unsatisfactory. About 1870 a new mill was built by the El Dorado Mining Company, and this was really the beginning of successful operations in the district. This El Dorado Mining Company consisted of John Nash, who took over the property in 1870, and his later associates, one of whom was his brother-in-law, Mr. Davis, a practical mill man, and familiarly known as "Old Man Davis," to distinguish him from his son, Percy W., who came in later. Another partner was a Mr. Fuller, who was persuaded by Davis to sell his farm in the East to provide money for building the new mill. Together Davis and Fuller erected the mill and took a small interest in the mine to recompense them for the outlay of time and money. At this date the El Dorado Company owned only the Techatticup mine. The Queen City was a vein that converged upon and diverged from the Techatticup. While

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not a parallel vein, yet its ore bodies occurred opposite those in Techatticup as if a parallel vein had dipped into the Techatticup at a greater depth. Up to 1872 the Queen City was owned and worked by Senator George Hearst of California.

            In 1879 a Minneapolis company took over the property of the El Dorado Company under the new name of the Southwestern Mining Company. The first superintendent, R. G. Knox, was superseded in the spring of 1880 by W. S. Mills who held the position for some years until it was transferred to a Mr. Wharton.

            In taking over the property of the El Dorado Company the Southwestern Company assumed the debts of the former and eventually paid them off at 50 to 75 cents on the dollar. With regard to the location of new mines in the district, it may be said that up to 1880 no mines had been found except in the immediate vicinity of the Techatticup and the Savage, and no attempt had been made to operate elsewhere. Up to that time in all that part of the mineral belt lying south to west of the old mines and familiarly known as Knob Hill there was not a sign of a man's breaking rock on any paying claim, nor had a location ever been made in that region. The formation was radically different from that around the old company's mines and hence considered barren.

            In January, 1880, Mr. John P. Weaver found two prospects about five miles southwest of the Techatticup mine. They were small, but showed some good grade ore, and about the last of February, the Lone Star mine was discovered, from which later on the first shipment of ore from Knob Hill was made. This ore was "packed" on mules across the desert sixty miles to Ivanpah, and was worked in the J. A. Bidwell mill, one and one-half tons carrying $150 silver to the ton. A few days after the discovery of the Lone Star Mr. Weaver found the Silver Eagle, which was subsequently sold to Wooley, Lund & Judd of St. George, Utah, for $2,500.

            Previous to 1880 all mining in this section had been done through a company, paying cash for day labor. Now, because of the many new discoveries, the settlement was transformed into a "chloride" camp. In the summer of 1880, Andy Fife, ex-sheriff of Lincoln County, and George M. Goodhue brought in a mill and organized the Lincoln Mining Company which was subsequently purchased by Wooley, Lund & Judd in 1881, who in their turn in 1888 sold to the Southwestern Mining Company.

            The latter built a new and improved style of mill, a dry crusher, using the old reverberatory roasting process and pan amalgamation without concentrators. Before 1879 the records of production in the district were unreliable, but after the Southwestern Company took possession they were more accurate. They show that the Techatticup, Savage and Wall Street, located six miles west of the river, yielded $3,000,000 from ore which ran $50 to $100 a ton in gold and silver with no by-products. In the Knob Hill chloride camp the ores were quartz, free milling, horn silver and chloride, mostly silver values, and ran from 100 to 800 ounces per ton.

            Such was the mining district where in early days there was never a deputy sheriff nor a justice of the peace, nor even a semblance of law—a purely outlaw camp. The mining law at best, was a vague iridescent thing, about as open as a sieve ; the real issues in equity were usually decided by "Winchester's amendment

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to the Colt statute" ; possession was always nine points of the law and usually all ten of them.

            In the summer of 1874 John Nash, founder of the El Dorado Company, conceived the idea of "jumping" the Queen City, since it was known to be as valuable as the Techatticup itself. On his own responsibility he employed three fighting men to aid him in taking possession of the Queen City. They were promised $5,000 each if they would hold the mine for a certain length of time, which they succeeded in doing. Meantime the owner, Senator George Hearst, sent a man to the mine to do the annual work. He was run out of the country.

            The claim-jumpers were James Harrington, known as little Jimmie, who had three dead men to his credit then and was afterwards sentenced to life imprisonment at Carson City for another murder. The second was William Piette, who called himself "Frenchman." He was the son of a tough, drunken individual with a strain of Indian in the blood, and a full-blooded squaw. The third was Jim Jones, a half-breed Cherokee from Pioche. So far as was known the worst that could be said of him was that he had served a year in the Carson State Prison for horse stealing. He was known as a cool courageous man who would fight with a gun. Harrington was a cold-blooded, treacherous man, so dangerous, in fact, that Nash paid him off according to agreement, and he left the country. Then Nash "soft-soaped" Piette, who was by nature a weak sycophant and could be used as a tool for any purpose—a black-hearted coward who liked to pose as a "bad man" without principle or conscience. Nash made Piette mine foreman and paid him in "paper" talk which he never meant to redeem. Next Nash tried to "paper" Jones, but was unsuccessful. The latter said : "I have fulfilled my part of the contract, now you fulfill yours ; either pay me cash or I will hang onto my fourth interest in the mine." Then it is charged that Nash deliberately planned to murder Jones. He first sought to poison the minds of Jones's friends and associates against him, saying among other things that Jones had threatened to poison the drinking water and kill off the entire camp. William Piette, thirsting for the fame of a "bad man," proved a valuable tool. He was delighted to undertake to get rid of Jones, although personally he had nothing against him, for they were partners and friends. The trouble began one day at 6 a. m. when the men arose to prepare for breakfast. Jones was performing his morning ablutions in a basin made of half a wooden powder-keg or keeler, set against the outer wall of the bunk-house and near the door. Jones had his face in his hands, and his eyes were full of water when Piette stepped up behind him and shot him in the back with a Colt revolver, the old cap and ball size. Jones seized the keeler in both hands and whirling around, struck Piette full in the face and knocked him down. He then ran into the bunk-house to get his own revolver, but, being partially stunned by the bullet, he dropped into his bunk while reaching for his gun and was unable to rise to meet Piette who came running after him. But from the bunk he fired over his left shoulder and shot Piette through the body, not fatally, but so that he fell to the ground. Quickly recovering, Piette arose and ran to hide in the kitchen. Jones also arose and ran down the hill about fifty yards, to the canvas and brush lean-to where Piette lived. He was disappointed in not finding his assailant at

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home, but his loaded Winchester, provided by Nash, lay on the bed. This Jones appropriated and though bleeding profusely, so that he left a trail of blood behind him as he ran, he carried the gun to a point above the camp where he could look down on the boarding and bunk-houses and hear what was said. Everything down there was excitement and he heard cries of "Kill him !" "Kill him."

            Realizing he had no friends left in the camp, he fired a shot into the air to make them take to cover so that he might start on his flight unobserved ; then to elude pursuit he took across the country toward the mill, hoping to find protection there. Soon he saw three armed men running on his track. In a little basin he found a prospect hole about four feet deep ; into this he dropped and waited for his pursuers to come up. Tom King, armed with a Winchester like his own, was in the lead. Jones shot him dead. Perry Tuttle also had a rifle and though retreating, he shot at him also but missed him. Tom Johnson was the third man and together with Tuttle he withdrew out of sight behind the hill. Then Jones climbed out of his hole, but one quick glance revealed the fact that the force was returning for a fresh attack, so he confiscated King's rifle and went back to the hole to await developments. No one came in sight, for owing to the nature of the ground, his pursuers could picket all around him from behind a little hill or ridge. Thus was the cordon drawn and the siege established. At the camp all mining operations were suspended and the miners stood guard in relays, awaiting the end. All that day, in the blinding heat, and all that night, Jones kept under cover. The next morning he laid his rifles up on top, and with grim determination to open the fight himself, he attempted to climb out, but he was so weak that he could not get out ; several times that day he made the attempt, meanwhile hurling defiance at his besiegers. In the evening, tortured with thirst, having given up all hope of succor from the river, he finally put his kerchief on a gun and plead for quarter. Two days and a night it took to conquer his brave spirit. After obtaining assurance that Jones would not shoot, Tom Johnson slipped his old revolver between his shirts so as to appear unarmed and went to him. With bloodshot eyes, cracked and swollen lips, and tongue protruding, nearly dead from thirst, Jones could only mumble incoherently, and his last words were : "For God's sake, Tom, get me a drink of water." Truly, he was helpless and beyond fighting. One look satisfied Tom of this, and, flashing his revolver upon him, he shot him in the forehead as he lay there, saying, "Yes, _____ you, I'll give you a drink."

            The men threw about three feet of earth on top of him and there today rest his bones. As for Tom King, he was buried where he fell, about thirty yards distant. John Nash owned the Queen City.

The Knox Tragedy

            The story of the death of Robert E. Knox in the Pahranagat Valley, in the spring of 1867 and the subsequent apprehension and execution of his murderer, L. B. Vail, forms one of the most interesting of the early day stories of Nevada.

            The Austin Reveille and Belmont Reporter tell the story—this from the former : Some time near the latter part of March, or about the first of April, 1867, Robert W. Knox left this place with a man named L. B. Vail for the southern portion of the state since

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which time nothing has been heard of him until quite recently, when his body was found near Hiko, under circumstances which indicate that he had been murdered by Vail. James E. Matthews, sheriff of Lincoln County, immediately instituted search for Vail, and in the pursuit came to this place with Sheriff Ranney of Nye County, and enlisting the services of City Marshal Hank Knerr, the trio captured Vail at the White House, on Reese River, about ten miles from Austin.

            Vail and Knox, having a small drove of horses, passed through Pahranagat Valley, in the early part of April, and entered a canyon about twenty miles south of Hiko. Vail was often seen in the valley, but Knox was never seen alive after going into the canyon. Knox was said to have had about $500 in coin and a check for $3,000, in a wallet on his person. Upon inquiries being made of Vail as to the whereabouts of Knox, he made different replies—at one time stating that he was hunting stock; at others that he had gone to the Mormon settlement, to Arizona, to the Eastern States, etc. Finally, Vail came from the camp in the canyon and proceeded westward alone, with the drove of stock.

            It was then noticed that he also wore some of Knox's clothes. Shortly after this, men came from Southern Utah in search of stolen horses, and followed Vail to Austin. The Mormons, securing the aid of Hank Knerr and B. F. Marshall, pursued Vail and a companion, came up with them, shot and subsequently captured the companion, and recovered the stolen horses, but Vail escaped, owing to the fleetness of his mount. He was not then suspected of murder, but the arrival of Matthews and Ranney with a warrant for his arrest on that charge induced further search, which resulted in his capture at the White House, as above related.

            That Knox had been murdered was positively ascertained. Indians passing the former camping-ground of Vail in the canyon, near Hiko, discovered a saddle, that had been buried and partly exhumed by coyotes. Pulling it out, they carried it to the settlements, and related the circumstance.

            The people having before this suspected foul play, went to the spot where the saddle was found, guided by the Indians, for the purpose of making further examinations. Upon digging, they soon found the body of Knox, who had been killed by a blow on the head, apparently with an axe, and, doubtless, while asleep. Vail had buried the body, and then made his bed over the spot, so as to hide it. This position he had occupied for more than a month—sleeping on the grave of his victim !

            After his arrest, Vail was taken to Belmont, and held in jail there by order of Judge Curler, for some weeks, fearing that as there was no judge in Lincoln County to try the case, and no jail there, he might escape or be hung without trial. Some time in July, however, Sheriff Matthews of Lincoln County, took his prisoner and left Belmont for Logan, then the principal mining camp of the county.

            A correspondent of the Belmont Reporter, writing from Hiko, thus gives the sequel : On the tenth instant, the sheriff and an escort of six men arrived here with L. B. Vail, and took him before a justice of the peace for examination. As soon as it became known that Vail had arrived the citizens of Pahranagat Valley arose en masse, and upon the eleventh proceeded to Logan, took the prisoner from the authorities, and brought him to this place,

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where they organized a court, impaneled a jury, and proceeded to try him for the murder of Knox. Sheriff Matthews, Justice Gorin, and County Commissioner Wilson, in the name of the county, demanded that the prisoner be given up to the first named officer, but they were thrust out of the room, and not allowed to return.

            The prisoner was given a fair and impartial trial, found guilty of murder, and sentenced to be hung the same night at ten o'clock—the sentence having been pronounced at fifteen minutes before nine—allowing Vail only one hour and a quarter to prepare for death. He said, "All right," and never faltered or acknowledged his guilt.

            One of the oldest settlers of the Pahranagat Valley, who was present at the trial of Vail, assured the writer that the proceedings were entirely regular and in conformity with lawful procedure. However, the propriety of the occasion was somewhat marred by sounds of erection of a gallows, and construction of a coffin, which took place during the progress of the trial.

            Vail went unresistingly to the scaffold at the expiration of the allotted time, and when asked if he had anything to say, sullenly answered, "No." Whereupon the trap fell and the life of L. B. Vail went out in atonement for his dark and terrible deed. That he was a dangerous criminal who well merited his fate, but few who knew him doubted. Several years before, a man who had been in his company at Washington, Nye County, disappeared suddenly, and was never after heard of.

            Vail, at one time, in a half serious, half joking manner, pointed out a spot upon the Ruby range of mountains to Mr. Leopold Bertschy, who lived in Reese River Valley, but who then happened to be in his company, and remarked that there was where he had buried three men whom he had killed, and said that for seven weeks he had slept upon the ground between their graves.

            This, in the light of what had been proven upon the trial for the murder of Knox, it was thought might have been true ; but Mr. Bertschy's demise, resulting from an accident on the thirteenth of July, two days after Vail was hung, left no living witness to lead a party of discovery to the place which Vail had pointed out.

Cazerung Murder

            This is a narration of the circumstances surrounding the murder of a remarkable character known as Eugene Cazerung in the Pahrump Valley a few years ago. The tragedy occurred on the famous Manse ranch owned by Cazerung, who was one of the largest land owners in Southern California. He was the master of thousands of acres in the vicinity of Pasadena, Escondido and San Diego in addition to the fertile Manse property in Nevada. Cazerung was an elderly man of harsh and forbidding appearance, who had the reputation of being a hard character to deal with. However, he must have had his softer side, as he had as a protegé a beautiful French girl known as Sweet Marie, who often accompanied him on trips to his various properties. His dominant and aggressive disposition was the cause of frequent quarrels with his ranch help, and likewise made him unpopular with his neighbors.

            The Manse ranch, where Cazerung was killed is a historic property and has one of the most ideal settings and climates in Nevada. The lofty snow-clad Charleston Mountains rise more than ten thousand feet on the east while the shimmering Mojave

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desert of California lies to the southwest. One pleasant Saturday afternoon in the late spring, Cazerung arrived at the Manse and found the Mexican ranch foreman idling in the sunshine with his family, while a Mexican helper was similarly engaged at his quarters in an out-house some distance away. This loafing, added to the fact that much urgent work needed to be done, so enraged the proprietor that he commenced a violent abuse of the foreman for his delinquencies, threatening him with bodily harm. As the quarrel grew in intensity the Mexican ranch helper discreetly left the place, not caring for an encounter with his infuriated employer. As he went down the road, the frightened Mexican heard the sudden report of pistol shots, then all was still. Not knowing whether the shot had been fired by the employer or the foreman, the ranch hand fled more rapidly and hid out in the brush during the night. Early the next morning he aroused Bob Lee, a pioneer and son of the famous Philander Lee, who had an adjoining place. The two men, accompanied by a hand on the Lee place, cautiously approached the Manse but found no sign of life around the ranch. However, in -the ranch yard were marks of where a stone boat had been recently dragged out through a corral, over a ditch and into the brush beyond. Following the trail, the party suddenly came across the object of their search, lying under a mesquite tree. There lay the murdered body of Eugene Cazerung, more grim and forbidding in death than in his long and tempestuous life. His snow white whiskers and hair were matted with blood, and filthy with the manure through which his head had dragged on the death trip through the corral. Two neighbors, Frank Buol and Arthur Raycraft, were speedily notified of the tragedy. They carried the body into the house so the grunting, half wild hogs on the place would not destroy the features. Buol and Raycraft next notified the peace officers at Beatty by telephone from Death Valley Junction. W. D. Gray, justice of the peace, and George Greenwood arrived from Beatty that night. Under the flickering light of a single lantern the coroner's inquest was held and a jury empaneled consisting of Bob Lee, Arthur Raycraft and Frank Buol. Their verdict was that Cazerung had met his death at the hands of the Mexican ranch foreman, under extenuating circumstances. The Mexican killer had taken Cazerung's car and loaded his family and possessions into it, leaving late Saturday evening. He made no special haste to get away or to conceal himself and was easily apprehended.

            On account of his claim of self-defense and the verdict of the coroner's jury, a sentence of only two years in the penitentiary was imposed for the crime, which has since been served. As a tragic sequel to this episode, about a year later Joseph Murphy, district attorney of Nye County, was traveling from Tonopah to Los Angeles to attend to certain details connected with the settlement of the Cazerung estate. While rounding a curve near Mojave his car crashed into a truck on the highway, killing him instantly. The ending of the life of this brilliant young attorney added another grim finish to one of the strangest murder cases in the annals of the state.