Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1902-04-11
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: ; IN THE : :
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q xs By George Neville - Nv ~
Copyright, 1901, by A. s. Richardson
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~ " - By George Neville " v "

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"The prisoners are out. They've
broke jailr'
The cry was picked up by score of
voices and carried down the long, mar
row main street of Cimarron-to the
gambling dens, where players dropped
to the dancehall where the music stop
ped with crash; to the office of the
Windsor hotel, where travelling men
suddenly lost interest in a lively yarn;
to the i'll lighted shops, where mer-
chants locked safes and tills and pre-
pared to join in the man hunt. There
was need of many deputy sheriffs in
San Miguel county in those days.
1t was O'Clock when the alarm was
sounded. 1t was midnight before truth
and fiction had been sifted and the
women of Cimarron knew the worst.
Every ableboded, dependable man in
the mountain town had been sworn in
either as a member of the sheriif's
posse or of the patrol which guarded
the town.
On a cot In his Office lay Heynman,
the county jailer. He was encircled
by stern faced men. A notary public
was taking his last statement, setting
forth that Randall Wolfe, Jose Roday,
Manual Sanchez and Filipe Montez
had choked and gagged him while
making their escape from the San
Miguel county Jail. Later, at the cor
oner's inquest, the attendant physician
testified that had Heynman been in
ordinary health the fracas with the
desperadoes would not have proved
fatal, but the poor fellow was a
''lunger" who had come to Colorado
for his health. The gag had caused
hemorrhage.
The fugitives had been sentenced
for six months or less on petty charges,
and public opinion laid the exploit at
the door of Wolfe, handsome, daredevil
Randall Wolfe, who had dropped into
Cimarron from no one knew where,
with plenty of money and a fondness
for shooting at lamps in store win
dows. Soon after his arrival he had
married one of the most beautiful
Mexican girls in the vicinity, and they
had settled down to a somewhat bo-
hemian housekeeping in q picturesque
cabin among the river willows. All
this had happened months before
Wolfe had shot the lamps in Browns
drugstore, thereby starting confagra-
tion and landing in Jail. And now
Conchita, she of the great wistful eyes
and the 1.-the, graceful figure, had dis
appeared from the cabin among the
willows. People said that In her hour
of disgrace she had gone back to her
own people, who lived across the state
line.
Two days, and three, slipped by, and
one posse after another rode wearily
into town until only Sheriff Mcguire
and few picked men hung desperate
ly on the trail of the outlaws. These,
too, We're becoming disheartened when
in the steel gray of an early dawn they
followed a wood hauler's trail to the
DEVILS caldron.
A circular pit was this, its bottom
reached only by rocky paths such as
mountain goats or fugitives alone
would tread. On one side the walls
dropped sheerly full fifty feet, and at
one point clear mountain stream cut
it's way through solid rock.
Mcguire had ordered the horses
staked a mile back in the thick timber,
and as the posse drew close to the pit
he motioned his men to halt. Then,
Il Io,, Js -
crawled to the edge of the precipice
and peered over. What he saw sent
thrill of exultation along his nerves.
Near the smoldering fire lay the three
MeXicans, while on the rocky ledge,
slightly above them, lay two other fig
ures, one of whom he could easily
identify, even in the dawn's uncertain
light, as the stalwart Wolfe. The fifth
figure he studied carefully, but it was
hidden by wrappings of gaudy blan-
kets. But Mcguire, recalling the sullen
Mexican wood hauler they had passed
far down the ravine the day before,
knew that the outlaws had been pro-
vided with food and tidings from the
outer world. Then, turning his gaze
on the zlgzag mountain trail ending
within two feet of his hand, the sheriff
smiled grimly. His prisoners were
neatly trapped.
But. the smile died suddenly. The
fifth figure, the one at Wolfe's side,
stirred restlessly, the red and purple
blanket was tossed aside, and beauti-
fully carved arm was thrown above a
mass of raven hair 1t was Conchita!
Mcguire drew back. To shoot men
down in cold blood was one thing-he
had done 1t before-but she was wo-
man, a woman who had done nothing
but love too well this man of a race
not her own. The sheriff had seen the
firearms scattered about the campfire
And if the outlaws fought the girl
would be in the midst of it.
lie crept back to his men. There
was a whispered conference. Eight
men carefully looked over their guns.
Then, dropping on their stomachs, they
slid noselessly to the edge of the cal
dron and surrounded it. The steel gray