The Clew of the Liquor Bottles
Edited by William J. Bacon
A True Story of the Secret Service, as Told by Capt. Dickson
■■MOMIC years ago, before I be
Scame connected with the
I'nited States secret serv
ice in the east, I was en
f gaged by a member of the
i western express com
panies to do some special
work for them," began
Capt. Dickson. "My head
quarters were in Denver
and my work, on the whole,
was decidedly interesting.
One adventure in particu
lar made me proud of my service for
our company, although it was largely
a matter of luck that brought about
my success in that instance. lam a
firm believer in luck, for it plays an
Important part in every man's life, and
it has figured to a large extent in my
own affairs, I am free to confess.
"A daring express robbery had been
committed in the western part of the
state, near the Utah line, by three
men. The messenger had been mur
dered and the passengers throughout
the train robbed of all their money.
The hold-up men secured something !
more than |15,000 from the express j
company's safe and fully $5,000 from
the passengers. They took nothing
but money, however, leaving valuable
jewelry, diamonds and watches with
their owners, and ignoring the parcels
in the express car. This circumstance
showed that the gang was composed
of experienced thieves, for money is
the hardest thing in the world to
trace.
"I was notified of the robbery on the
afternoon of the second day after it oc
curred, and although I hastened to the
spot with all dispatch and made my
arrangement by wire, it was r.oon of
tb.e third day before I alighted at the
nearest station. Here I had arranged
for two horses and a prospector's out
fit, deeming it best to follow the ban
dits in the disguise of a miner, as the
robbery had been made at a point
rear the mining region of southwest
ern Colorado, and I expected to find
the criminals at some of the numer
ous mining camps.
"i have never been a believer in
disguises except an to clothing. All
efforts to change the face with grease
paints and wigs and the like only tend
to attract attention and direct suspi
sion to the man thus togged out. The
casual observer might not notice the
deception, but the criminal, and espe
cially the hunted criminal, is no cas
ual observer. lie has formed the
habit of noticing everything, and he
will detect the least false point in a
man's appearance and shun him as if
he were afflicted with the plague.
"A change of dress will work won
ders in a man's appearance. It' a
man can wear other clothes than those
he is accustomed to, and wear them
easily and naturally, he can more ef
fectually disguise himself by this
means than he can with all the wigs
and paints and whiskers in exist
ence.
"Coming across the continental di
vide, 1 had suffered a slight attack of
indigestion. I sent the porter after a
flask of whisky, asking for a certain
brand. He returned in a few minutes
witli one of the diminutive little bot
tles customarily sold on sleeping cars
at a quarter a bottle. It was not the
kind I had ordered, but the porter ex
plained that this was the only brand
of liquor the company sold, anil I had
to be content with it. The label of
the bottle stated that it was put up
expressly for the company.
"On reaching my destination, I im
mediately assumed the character of a
miner and set about my inquiry. There
was little information to be gathered
beyond what was contained in the
express company's report of the rob
bery, of which 1 had a carbon-copy.
Satisfied that time spent here would
be wasted, I set out for the scene of
the robbery, riding a wiry little pony
and leading another on which was
packed my outfit of grub and cooking
implements and miner's tools.
"The place was a desolate spot. The
road ran through a broad alkali val
ley which had not, at that time, been
brought under cultivation by irriga
tion. It was easy to pick up the trail
of bandits and follow it across the val
ley in a southwesterly direction to the
foot-hills of the Rockies, where the
trail disappeared, the rocky ground
leaving no trace of hoof-prints.
"From this point on it was to be a
matter of luck and guesswork. I be
lieved my men had made for Telluride,
Ouray, Silverton or some other mining
camp, but I was not. rash enough to
venture a guess as to which it might
be at that stage of the game. These
camps, with their rough, shifting pop
ulation. offered capital retreats for
criminals, and from past experiences
I knew that my three rogues would,
in all probability, remain in one of
these camps until the excitement from
the robbery had subsided, and then
make for civilization to spend their
money.
"For three days I drifted at random
through tho mountains, following trails
and paths, for there were no roads,
endeavoring to pick up some clew or
find the place where my party had
spent the first night after the robbery.
The hold-up had occurred about noon,
and. by hard riding, the three high
waymen could penetrate some ten or
twenty miles into the fastness of the
mounatins before it became too dark
to travel further, it was ou\ of the
question for any one to advance
through that region after da ■*k. I
hope»\ to find the place of their camp,
and felt sure I would do so by petee
▼•ring.
"Late the third afternoon I stum
bled on the ashes of a campfire, and
close beside It, among the firs and
cedars, I found where horses had
been tied. This was what I had
searched for, and I felt sure that I
would here find something of value.
1 camped a short distance from the
place so I would not disturb it, leaving
my examination until the next morn
ing, when I would have a good light,
it then being too dark to attempt such
a tiling.
"That night, by the light of my
campfire. I read again the report of
the robbery as given by the train
hands. Near the last of it was the
account of the sleeping car porter who
related, with evident grief, that he
had been relieved of $0.15 in silver,
and that the bandits had rifled the
liquor cabinet of the buffet, taking
with tliem all of the whisky and a few
bottles of the rarer and stronger
wines.
"Early next morning 1 examined the
deserted camp of the highwaymen.
There was nothing but a burned-out
pile of ashes and charred sticks and a
lew empty bottles. The bottles gave
the clew for which I searched. The
highwaymen had certainly made their
camj> here. Each bottle bore Ihe
label of the sleeping car company, and
some of them were the diminutive
flasks of which I had drunk one on
the trip from Denver. There was not
a scrap of paper anywhere else lo
be found.
"Elated with niy success, I made a
survey of the country and discovered
a hali-obscure trail leading farther
into the mountains. 1 took up this
trail and followed it as best I could
until nightfall. Oftnx 1 lost it, and
sometimes I spent an hour or more
casting about to pick it up again, as I
have seen hounds ballled on the trail
of a fox. About three o'clock that
afternoon I found something that made
my eyes sparkle. Shattered into a
thousand pieces was the remains of
one of the small whisky bottles on a
large flat rock beside the trail where
it had doubtless been cast in a playful
mood induced by its contents. Among
the fragments 1 found the label of the
car company.
"It was the dry season, and this
was in my favor, for no rains came
to obliterate the trail. For five days
1 followed the bandits across the hills
and through the valleys, verifying my
route from time to time by fragments
of broken whisky bottles along the
way, and at the places where they had
camped for a night. The buffet-car
must have been well stocked, for 1
found many bottles in this journey.
"The trail eventually came to a
well beaten road, which, from my map,
I learned was the stage and mail route
from Montrose, the nearest railroad
point to Ouray, then a rather insig
nificant mining settlement. I lost no
time in getting to Ouray, for it was
impossible to trail my men along this
road and I was sure they had headed
for the mining camp.
"Two days were spent at Ouray
without finding a trace of the three
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY JUNE 17, 1909.
men. They had not stopped there cer
tainly, so I took the trail to Telluride,
a mining camp farther on In the moun
tains. Telluride was then a camp of
800 or 1,000 souls, and there was a
bit of a mining boom on which daily
brought new prospectors to swell its
citizenship, fatuous souls brought
there by the greed of gold—a lure
that never fails to attract victims in
swarms. For three days I searched in
vain through the saloons and dance
halls and other places where the rough
miners congregated without, finding a
trace of my three rogues. That infal
lible sixth sense of mine was doing
its best to keep me longer in Tellu
ride, althonugh my judgment told me
to move onto Silverton; but in the
end my intuition won the fight and I
remained.
"One evening I was drinking with
a raw-boned miner. The whisky was
abominable. The distillery where it
was made would never have recog
nized its product in its present form.
I complained of the poor quality of
whisky and asked my acquaintance if
there were not some better stuff to be
found in the camp. He said there
was not, at any of the bars, but that
he had been given an amazingly good
drink by a niinef, whose name he men
tioned. He said it had been in a little
hot lie which held just enough to tease
one, but it was the best, liquor he had
drunk since he left Kentucky many
years before. He licked his lips in
pleasant memory of the drink.
"1 almost gave myself away, so
keen was my pleasure at this chance
remark. I inquired about the gen-
erous owner of the good liquor, with a
show of indifference I was far from
feeling. He was a late arrival, it
seemed, and lived in a shanty far up
011 the mountain-side with two com
panions. The three were making a
rather poor attempt to work a claim
they had preempted.
"Getting away from my loquacious
miner-friend, I climbed the steep trail
to the cabin and set about an investi
gation of it with great caution. The
men were at home, and from the
sounds issuing from its closed doors
I guessed they were having a rare old
time that evening. I approached to the
very door and listened with my ear to
the planks to sounds of revelry within.
The men were gambling and drinking,
and I could hear the clink of coins
and the rattle of bottles and the ribald
jests with which they made their bets
and gloated over their winnings and
cursed their luck when they lost. I
heard sufficient to make me sure that
my much-sought bandits were in the
cabin, although there was no direct
mention of the express robbery.
Pittsburg Man Is Loaded 9 9
Perfect Fiend to Quote Statistics, Ac
cording to Writer in
Harper's.
The Pittsburgh can carry more fig
ures of large denomination on his per
son without your suspecting their ex
istence than any other citizen of the
1 United States. He is a reservoir of
| decimals and statistics. He must
| have ample justification, however, be
| lore he turns the spigot, but when he
j does there is a torrent no man can
! ntem.
If provoked and inclined to extend
I himself, in a five-minute talk he can
| fill you so lull of miscellaneous indua
"It would have been the rankest
folly to have attempted their arrest
without assistance —although I did
tackle such a job once In my salad
days, as this scar will testify," and he
pointed to an ugly wound at the back
of his neck, partially covered by his
flowing gray locks. "But that is an
other story. I decided to call on the
United States deputy marshal, a man
of tigerish bravery, for assistance.
There was no chink or crack in the
door through which I could gain a
peek at the interior of the cabin, so
I dropped down on my hands and
knees and crawled around to the back
of the cabin where I thought there
might be a window. There was a win
dow, but it was closed with a heavy
shutter, and I could not. find any point
to peep through; but I did find some
thing on the way around. My hand
touched something round and smooth,
and I clutched it involuntarily. It was
one of the little whisky flasks. After
I had left the cabin I struck a match
and examined it. The label of the
car company was still on it.
"The deputy marshal was found at
one of the dance halls and he soon
summoned a reliable posse. We sur
rounded the cabin, from which still is
sued the sounds of revelry. The men
were stationed at every point about
it. Then the marshal and I rapped on
(he door. In response to our summons
one of the miners staggered across
the floor and threw the door wide
open. We tripped him up and rushed
over him into the cabin. The men
were too drunk to make any resist
ance. and we captured them without
a shot being fired. They were hav
jus a big stud-poker game, played with
gold pieces and currency instead of
chips. There was some SS,OOO or $lO,-
000 upon the table. Strewn about the
lloor were many whisky and wine bot
tles. In a box beneath one of the
bunks was a solitary pint bottle of
whisky, the last remnant of the con
tents of the buffet ear's liquor store.
It was, as I said, a clean case of
luck."
(Copyright, J9ftß, by W. G. Chapman.)
(Copyright in Great Britain.)
Played on Ancient Instruments.
At a concert which took place iu
the large hall of the Royal museum at
Stuttgart, recently, at which the king
and queen of Wurtemberg were
present, no instruments were used
save spinets, clavicembolas and pianos
of the seventeenth and eighteenth cen
turies. The most interesting of these
were the one which was once owned
by Johann Sebastian Bach, and an
other on which Queen Louise of Prus
sia learned to play.
tries —natural gas, steel rails, tin
plate, petroleum, steel pipes and sheet
metal, fire bricks, tumblers, table
ware, coke, pickles, and all that sort of
thing—that you will begin to feel like
a combination delicatessen and hard
ware store.
I have not begun to enumerate the
different data 1 have collected on this
subject, as 1 have no desire to make
the reader feel small or to lose confi
dence in himself. As 1 have pointed
out before, the Pittsburger, or the man
who is under the influence of Pitts
burg, must be provoked before he un
burdens.—C. H. White, in Harper's.
BOY'S GRATITUDE WAS REAL i
Haa Long Cared for Grave of Man
Who Had Been Kind to Him
Many Years Ago.
Rev. John Henri Sattig, pastor of 1
St. Philip's church, Dyker Heights, ;
Brooklyn, tells this beautiful story:
"In Milford, Pa., there is an old
graveyard, neglected, weed-grown and
unkempt. Of all the mounds in that
village of the dead only one is cared
for. On that the grass is neatly
trimmed, flowers bloom and never a
weed appears. The visitor who looka
upon this evidence of love and devo
tion amid so many examples of for
getfulness usually asks whose grave
it is, and the sexton answers: 'The
man whose body rests there had
neither chick nor child. Nearly every
day for the six years since the man
died a boy comes here to 'tend to the
grave. Winter and summer he comes. I
The lad is the butcher boy. The man
was the only human being who ever
was kind to the boy.'"
BILL'S AFFLICTION,
"Why, uncle, how are all the folks?"
, "They're all well, thanks, 'cept Bill. j
He's got the baseball fever!"
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It has been reported that the dis
ease known as trachoma, or granular
eyelids, has been spreading rapidly
among the Indians. To check this
trouble congress appropriated $12,000,
placing it in the hands of the commis
sioner of Indian affairs, for the imme
diate investigation and treatment of
the disease and to check its spread.
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Facts About; the Texas Gulf
Coast From One Who
In a recent letter to the President of the St. Louis, Brownsville &
Mexico R. R., Robert 11. Kern, Esq., 922 Missouri Trust Building,
St. Louis, writes:
"Mr. Knndolph has shown me your letter in which reference
is made to my farming in Missouri. Presuming that you would
like to know a little of my success in that li-e, i will say that I
have been actively farming under my own supervision for seven
years 2,000 acres of line farming land in Macon County, Mo.
You may judge of the quality of this land when 1 tell you that I
have in favorable seasons raised 75 bushels of corn to the acre, 80
bushels of wheat and 2 tons of hay. I have also studied farming
conditions in the high priced lands of Illinois and lowa. My own
experience and this observation leads me to believe that if the
best farms in any of these States for any five years average 50
bushels of corn to the acre, and that the farmer realizes there
from S2O or $25 an acre, he is doing the best possible, and out of
this, expense, etc., of raising crops must be deducted.
"A year ago I went to the lower Rio Grande Valley in the
Gulf Coast Country of Texas and spent some time studying farm
ing conditions there; I found my 20 years' experience on a farm
in Bourbon Co., Ky., ana my long experience in Missouri of great
service. So much impressed was I with the vast superiority of
farming in the Brownsville, Texas, region, that I bought 160 acres
of land near Santa Maria, Texas, and put my son (a college boy)
in charge. The result of practically a year is far better than E
anticipated. He has cut alfalfa sown in January, 190S, 9 times,
and realized therefrom 8 tons to the acre, worth $21.50 a ton at
Mercedes, Texas, in February. He is now shipping cabbage
planted in December, realizing between S2OO and SBOO an acre,
and writes me that from the cabbage, cucumber, melon and bean
crop of 40 acres, he will realize over $7,000. He has a fine fig
orchard of over 7,000 trees set out in February, 1907, which
raised from 10 acres in July and August, 1908, over SIOO worth of
figs to the acre and the entire crop this year should realize over
$l5O per acre. Orange trees set out two years ago, then two
years old, are bearing now. One old lemon tree has borne over
2,000 fine lemons since July, and bananas are growing all the
time. In my roamings in Europe and America I have neither
seen a country nor a climate that compares with it."
Many others are making similar successes. Building fortunes.
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Ignorance Aids Appetite.
Merrill E. Gates, secretary of the
board of Indian commissioners, was
describing the splendid work that his
board is doing to wipe out the tuber
culosis scourge which at one time
threatened to make the American In
dian extinct,
j "But the Indian," said Mr. Gates,
"needs to be educated in sanitation.
He is shockingly ignorant there. In
fact, be is as ignorant as an old farm
er I used to know in Warsaw.
"A friend dropped in on this old
farmer as he was frying a bit of bacon.
" 'Grand bacon, that,' said the friend,
sniffing affably.
"'Grand bacon! Well, I guess it la
grand bacon,' said the old man, turn
ing the slices in the pan. 'And it's
none o' yer murdered stufT, neither.
That pig died a natural death.'
Washington Post.
The Bright Side.
j "Does Mr. Stormington Barnes try
to look on the bright side of things?"
asked one actor.
"I should say so," answered the
| other. "He's never content unless he
is staring the spotlight right in the
face." —Washington Star.
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3