Windham County reformer. (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1901-1906, 1903-08-28
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) AN OUTLAWS
! FATE -
: -. BY c. N. STEvANs !
Copyright, 1901, BY A. s. Richardson

Copyright, 1901, BY A. S. Richardson
Observation-Disclosures
United States Marshal Simpson wa
standing just back Of the judges des
In Topeka during the trial of Bill Cow
when boy brought him telegram
He read 1t thoughtfully and then beck
0ned to Jim Thraile.
4 When Thrale came up. the marsha
gave him the message, which read
Casper Flugel In camp with sever
men, not friends. at Willow Springs
near Guadalupe peak"
"Thraile," said the marshal, you're
the man to take him In. 1t will be al
easy five hundred for you"
Casper Flugel was a big German iron
molder. wanted In Pittsburg for the
murder of a companion. His first years
career In the territory had so added to
his crimes that his description was
well known to all the deputy marshals.
Jim Thraile accepted his task. and in
due time he rode into the camp at vii.
low Springs. playing the role Of a fugi.
tive from justice. Since all renegades
regard 1t as their prime duty to protect
any one threatened with arrest his first
task consisted Of getting the man he
wanted away from the company. He
soon found that this could not be done,
because the iron molder would not un.
der any circumstances go ten feet out
Of camp unless accompanied by several
Of the men.
Flugel was thoroughly disliked. He
did not know how to be companionable
to the other renegades. He lacked their
style Of courage. His silent, sullen ma.
ture was decidedly distasteful, and 1t
was apparent that they would gladly
be rid Of him. AS Flugel could not be
persuaded to leave the company, and
as Thraile knew how to be popular
with the men, the latter decided that
the quickest way to get his man was to
pick a quarrel with him and have him
driven from the camp as an uncongen-
ial character. But Casper Flugel would
not quarrel. He stoically took all abuse
without any sign Of resentment further
than revengeful look out Of his
heavy. brutal eyes. 1t was dangerous
game. since even the renegades might
become suspicious. Suspicion was some
times as bad as conviction.
Say. partner" said one Of them,
"Dutchy thinks you are marshal and
that you are after him. We've got a
notion to fire you both"
Jim Thraile laughed good naturally.
1--WE got out Of good many worse
places than this where wasn't want
ed" he answered. when do go?"
"Oh, l guess you're all right" was
the reply, but Dutchy's afraid, and he
wants us to promise that you don't get
out Of camp until he's had at least a
days start"
That's dead easy" answered Thraile.
''Tell Dutchy to git at once. He's no
body's pard. Let him co."
Casper Flugel rode away at noon
with a grunt that was meant to be a
farewell, but his late compan.
Ions took no notice of him except to .ex-
claim, Good riddance! Thraile no
iced, however, that the rustlers kept
close watch on him all day. That night
be slipped out Of camp, mounted his
horse and rode away.
He had no difficulty next morning in
hiding Casper Flugel's trail. To his
it led straight northeast
10 the Pecos river. Thraile thought
hot Inn h,rt tho tom nf tho
Iron molder could lead him to take the I
chances of making his way across the [
Great Staked plain. The man hunter /
NEW that it was fully three days I
Journey to the Pecos river, during (
which time not a drop of water could /
,e found. Then, possibly, even the
pecos river would be dry as sand hill.
The hunter filed his two rubber air
pillows with water and stuck like fox
hound to the trail of the fugitive lead
ng into the great oven of the plains.
Is the day progressed a scorching and
oppressive vapor made it impossible
or him to see any object beyond few
ards. Sparingly he doled out the wa
er to himself and horse. Most Of the
ime he held bulbs of the sand cactus
q his mouth as a preventive of thirst,
md he fed them literally to his horse.
The night was inexpressibly silent
Neither whir Of insect nor howl OF
oyote came to break the monotOny Of
he weary hours.
At the end of the second day his wa
er supply was exhausted, and nothing
emained but handful of coffee and a
mall bag of bran. Not a spear OF
rass was to be found, and as the
orse struggled along after his master
trough the deep white sand he groaned
With almost human responsibilities. [
When the sun arose on the third day,
appeared like redhot stove lid that
ad been showed up above the horizon
] the night.
The trail was less than an hour old {
7hen the exhausted pursuer reached :
be banks of the Pecos river. He found [
be bed of the stream as dry as the
hores. Thraile unsaddled his horse .
nd helped the poor creature gather |
be sparsely growing blades of soft ,
alt grass. At a spot in the bed of the !
lver where this grass was usually
,rifty he spent an hour digging with !
is hunting knife and was rewarded
nth enough water to Quench their I
,irst and to ill one Of his rubber bags. Z
The next morning he started again I
D the trail, walking all the time to
i've his horse. In the course of a few
lies he came to the worst of the des-