Hopkinsville Kentuckian. [volume] (Hopkinsville, Ky.) 1889-1918, 1905-05-18

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trap him.
The writer was familiar with
the news and the men of the west.
He knew many men that Foote
knew and Of many incidents in
which the outlaw had figured; he
knew friends FoOte made in his
criminal days-friends made
when the then outlaw was the
chief peace officer of a Colorado
mining camp, and a good one, too.
There was soon a running ex-
change of "reminiscences between
us. Foote began to talk of discov-
cries he had made and incidents
that had brought him into the
newspapers. He was particularly
proud of his discovery and explor-
alton of a natural cave in the Glen
wood section. 1t ended by FOOte
bringing to light scrapboOk con-
tanning among others a large num-
Der of clippings of newspaper ac-
counts of his exploits and the rob
berry of the Colorado hotel.
FOOte pointed these out with
something of pride; his face
flushed once when he called atten-
ton to some reference to the WON
an DOllie, made in them, but there
was evidence of pride in the ex-
plot and the notOriety it brought.
How proud he was of the record
could be judged by the fact that
he had brought the scrapbOOk into
the wilderness with him at no
small sacrifice.
One does not usually consider
an outlaw as patron of the press
clippings bureau.
We all slept in the FoOte cabin
that night, spreading our blan-
kets on the dirt floor. 1t was the
| first night for a week that we Of
the Powell had slept under roof
and we enjoyed the novelty. FoOte
had been hungry for company of
mankind, and, after the suspicion
wore off, was pleased to have us
there. Next morning he helped us
with some repairs on the boat,
taking good care all the time we
did not spring any trick on him
when leaving time came, but out
wardly displaying the most jOvial
spirit when submitting to the
camera.
We were three weeks in the
canyon and on the return trip
again slept in the Foote cabin.
1t was tacitly understood that
when we reached the outside we
were to respect the secret of the
outlay. Not a word of his pres
ence did one of us utter. The honor
of the wilds, of the woods, is it's
own. The world not of it knows
it not. We had broken the bread
of an outlaw; if the law wanted
him it was its business, not ours.
To us he had been a good fellow, a
cOmrade.
1t was months later when the
new marshal of Utah learned of
the hiding place of FOOte and
started down the canyon after
him. FoOte had word of the com
ing, and, hastily building a raft,
launched himself upon the river
that takes its toll in lives. There
was something of a chase, but the
men of the law did not feel war
ranted in taking the chances that
the outlaw took in shooting the
cataract, facing death every mo-
ment of the flight on his crude
bark to safety. FOOte got through
the cataract in some way-those
gods to whom the outlaw and the
foOlhardy look for protection did
not fail him. Others might go to
death on the rocks, however wise
ly their craft had been designed to
combat the terrific dashes of hte
waters in their wild, ferOcious
race through those canyons, but
the outlaw got through unscathed.
He reached Arizona and soon
afterward joined in an attempt of
some designing mining promoters
to jump the rich mine of another.
FOOte, with others of his kind, had
been hired to eject the owners of
the property and capture it. The
owners were intrenched in the
mine buildings and resisted the
raid. FoOte was shot and MORALLY
wounded. When the officers