Arrest of Theodore Meyers by Gen. Cook.
See page 263.

Hanging of Theodore Meyers in Denver, in 1873.

Meyers met his doom with an exhibition of nerve the most extraordinary. Once only, and then for but a moment, did he change countenance. The place had no terrors for him. Upon being asked by the sheriff if he desired to say anything, he replied, seeming to address the crowd:

“Farewell, men! I’m going to another world!”

The noose had been adjusted. The black cap was pulled down over his eyes. Almost before any of the lookers-on were aware of it the fatal spring had been touched, and the body of Meyers was dangling in the air, and human justice, so far as he was concerned, was satisfied. The body had dropped about four feet. There were a few convulsive twitches, the body spun around five or six times, and all was still. The trap was sprung at twenty minutes past 2 o’clock. Four minutes after the pulse stood at 144; five minutes after it had been reduced to 72, and in six minutes life was extinct, as pronounced by Drs. Marix and Heimbarger. The body was allowed to hang thirty minutes, and was then taken down and placed in the coffin, and taken to the city cemetery for interment, alongside of Duggan, Franklin and Griswold.

Mrs. Newton soon afterwards left Denver completely restored to health. It was announced at the time of her leaving that she had been discovered to be one of the heirs to the Stewart estate in England, and that she had inherited a fortune of £60,000 sterling. The trial exculpated her husband, Mr. Freidenthal, from all blame, and also went far towards establishing the fact that Bonacina was the woman’s brother, as was claimed.

A HALF-MILLION-DOLLAR ROBBER.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

Although as a rule Gen. Cook’s experience with criminals has been with the class who kill, he has also had a great deal to do with burglars and thieves, and others of the less demonstrative classes. One of the most notable cases of this latter class with which he has been identified was that of James Saeger, who was engaged in the robbery of a safe in Pennsylvania in 1868, from which half a million dollars’ worth of greenbacks were taken. The loser by the robbery was an old German named Bennehoff, who resided at Petroleum Centre, in Venango county, Pa., and whose wealth had been accumulated with rapidity through the magic instrumentality of petroleum. He had, previous to the discoveries of oil in the Keystone state, lived there a quiet and frugal life, residing in a plain country house with his family around him. When his good fortune came upon him he did not change his mode of life, but continued in the same house, the only innovation being the addition of a small iron safe, which was deposited in a hallway in the dwelling. This piece of furniture was, compared to others of its kind, a fragile thing, but old Bennehoff considered it a secure depository for his fast accumulating wealth. He grew rich with wonderful rapidity, as those were the days of the coal oil boom. His wells were numerous and apparently inexhaustible, and the petroleum was worth a great deal more then than it ever has been since. He was in the habit of carrying his money home loose in his pockets every evening and pitching it carelessly into his little iron safe, going about his business feeling assured that his treasure was secure.

Naturally enough the facts of his great wealth and his careless disposition of it began to be noised abroad, and the cupidity of some of his neighbors became sorely tempted. Among these was James Saeger, who lived at Saegerstown, near Meadville, and no great distance from Venango. Up to this time Saeger had borne an enviable reputation. He was a member of an old and well known family, in whose honor the town at which he resided was named. He was at that time a man of middle life, of splendid personal appearance, had long been engaged in mercantile pursuits and was the head of an interesting family. Yet the temptation of Bennehoff’s weak safe was too much for him. It outweighed all considerations of good name and of family ties. He did not, of course, undertake the robbery alone, but was assisted by four other men of his locality, all of whom masked and boldly entered the house of Bennehoff while the family were at supper, and at the muzzle of their pistols compelled Bennehoff to deliver up the key to one of his safes, in which he kept an enormous sum of money. This was done, and the robbers secured their booty, over half a million dollars in United States notes, which they emptied into a pillow case and made good their escape. Two of the robbers were afterwards arrested and convicted, one getting seven and the other fifteen years in the Pennsylvania state prison. Two others have never been heard from, while the fifth, Saeger, has been a fugitive from justice ever since, followed by detectives nearly into every corner of the world, until his arrest in Denver, since which time, for reasons which will appear, he has been let alone. It appears that after the robbery the money was secreted for two days, it being the understanding amongst the robbers that they were to meet at a specified time and “whack up.”

Once entered upon his downward course, Saeger moved with great celerity. He even neglected to observe the regulations which have led the world to adopt the general conclusion that there is honor among thieves, but before the time for the meeting of the robbers and their “divvy” had come around, Saeger stole the whole amount from the hiding place and jumped the country, leaving his companions with no money and the guilt of being parties to the burglary, and also deserting his family. It was one of the most remarkable cases on record, and, at the time, created much excitement amongst the people of that section, and was heralded through the press of the land.

Old Bennehoff was almost wild when he came to fully realize his loss. He was still wealthy, notwithstanding $500,000 had been stolen from him, and he announced his determination to capture the thieves at any cost. He offered first a reward of $5,000, then of $10,000, then $25,000; then capped the climax by offering $100,000 for the taking of Saeger, when it was discovered that he had all the lost money, and that he seemed in a way to effectually evade the officers, unless Bennehoff should make it an object to them to search “the world over for him,” as he stated it to be his desire that they should do.

As a consequence, detectives flocked to the humble home of this rich man to obtain clues for the purpose of working up the case. They came from all sections of the Union—from New York, Chicago, Philadelphia, Pittsburg and numerous other places. In fact, almost the entire detective skill of the Union was concentrated upon the case. They searched the country for their man in its every nook and cranny. Doubtless as much money was spent in the aggregate in making the search as was offered in the reward.

Among those who devoted several months’ time to the case was Capt. Hage, chief of the detective force of Pittsburg, who, after visiting Venango and taking elaborate notes, conceived the theory that Saeger had come to Colorado soon after the robbery, and he came to Denver himself, crossing the plains on a stage coach, making this city his headquarters while he scoured the country round about. But his efforts were of no avail. After spending much time and considerable money he returned to Pittsburg. During his stay here Capt. Hage conferred frequently with Chief Cook, of the Rocky Mountain Association, who coöperated with him. He furnished the Denver detective with complete information as to the robbery, and also left a description of Saeger.

Bennehoff never gave any notice of having withdrawn the reward, and Cook determined to keep a lookout for the bold robber, and did so for years. At last, after six years of waiting, his patience was rewarded by getting a view of the evasive and long-sought-for safe blower.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

Gen. Cook had learned that Mr. Gus Potter and his wife, who then, as they do now, kept a restaurant on Blake street, had known Saeger personally before coming to Colorado. He naturally concluded that if Saeger should come to Denver he would be found at Potters place. Hence he decided to keep an eye on this establishment. One day, in passing the Potter place, he saw a man walk out—tall, dark-haired, dark-complexioned and fine-looking, answering, in fact, the description of Saeger to the letter. He allowed the stranger to pass on unmolested, but when he had disappeared sought Mr. Potter, and to his great delight learned that his eyes had not deceived him and that his inference had been correct. Cook virtually had his man, and was in a fair way to secure a prize for which his entire profession had been contending.

Gen. Cook first caught sight of his man June 15, 1874, and he soon learned that this was the second visit which Saeger had paid to Potter’s place, having come in first on the day preceding. Mr. Potter told the detective all he knew about Saeger, who had adopted the alias of Thomas L. Magee, and related the fellow’s story as he had received it. Saeger had stated that he had come to Denver with a large herd of cattle and a force of thirty herders. The cattle were halted about eight miles distant from Denver, up Cherry creek, and Magee came to town to transact some business. While here he stepped into Potters restaurant to get some oysters. He had no idea that he was anywhere near people who knew him, not being acquainted with the locality. While partaking of his meal. Mrs. Potter, happening to pass through the dining room, heard Magee speak, and she at once noticed a familiar tone in his voice. Taking a keen look at the man, she at once discovered that it was James Saeger, whom she had not seen for years, or since she was a little girl, but whose features had made such an impression upon her memory as to remain there indelible. Mrs. Potter accosted him with “How do you do, Mr. Saeger?” whereupon he turned instantly, as though a voice had called him from another land, and answered her. So completely overcome was he—not knowing at first his interrogator—that he confessed his identity and engaged in conversation. Mr. Potter and his wife and Saeger then spent several hours together in conversation. He was also recognized at once by Mr. Potter, when called in, for he had, many years ago, adopted Potter as his son, in Saegerstown. He told Potter that he was now in the Texas cattle trade, and was the owner of between 30,000 and 40,000 head in that state; also, that he had several herds on the road between Texas and Colorado. He returned to his herd near the city that night, and came to town again the next day, in the meantime informing Potter that he desired to make him his attorney for the transfer of a large quantity of property. It was on the occasion of this second visit that Detective Cook had discovered his man. Potter knew all the particulars of the Bennehoff robbery, and Saeger’s complicity in the affair, but had been ignorant of his whereabouts until the strange incident occurred which brought the fugitive into his restaurant for a dish of oysters. Knowing that Detective Cook had been advised, several years before, of the occurrence, and had a full description of the man, and as Saeger had played a dirty trick on his (Potter’s) uncle in Saegerstown, by which that relative had to suffer the penalty of the law, Potter made no effort to screen the man, and entered into a plan to assist in the capture of him. He induced his brother, Charles Potter, to go out to Saeger’s camp, up Cherry creek, and get Saeger to come into town on the Sunday following. This was done because there was danger of Saeger’s getting wind of the operations of the detectives, and of his giving or attempting to give them the slip. Potter went to the camp, when Saeger was found in a genial mood. He partook freely of some good spirits Potter had along, and finally, when night was well advanced, and there was supposed to be little danger of detection, he himself suggested coming to Denver, and together the couple came in. They were met promptly upon their arrival by Mr. Cook, who approached the fugitive on the street, and without any ado made him a prisoner. The fellow was given no opportunity to make any defense, and, seeing that he had at last been caught in a trap from which he could not, at any rate not then, extricate himself, he surrendered with good grace and went quietly to jail.

In conversation with Cook, Potter and others, after his arrest, Saeger freely admitted that he was the identical Bennehoff robber, but averred that had he been armed the officer would never have taken him. It was the first time, he said, that he had ever been taken unawares, although he had been followed and watched for six years. He also related somewhat of his life since the time of the robbery. After leaving Saegerstown with the money—which he had in an old clothes bag—he engaged as a coal heaver on a steamer on the Ohio river. The first stopping place was Pittsburg, after which he went to New Orleans, becoming a gambler further down the Mississippi. From New Orleans he passed over to Cuba. He did not stay there long, but went to Mexico, from which country he went to Texas. In short, he had been a wanderer over the face of the earth, fleeing constantly from the detectives who he knew were hounding him down, and resorting to every possible means of disguising himself. In Texas he found himself comparatively safe, and if he had been content to remain there, buried away off on the Llano Estacado, as he was, he might have remained there in safety. He had lost all his money when he went to Texas, for he had gambled constantly and had led a fast life, and had engaged there as a cowboy, but he was too shrewd to disclose this fact in this interview. He preferred to have it believed that he was still very wealthy, and the sequel shows that he adopted the wise course in this respect. Saeger stated further in the conversation that he had been cornered several times before, but managed to get away through the free use of money. The money, or the bulk of it, which was stolen, he said, was placed where it never could be touched. Saeger told Potter that he had always intended to repay Bennehoff in full, trusting to speculations to realize money enough to double his pile, but that he had had reverses and lost a good deal.

Saeger was also called upon at the jail by a Texas detective, who chanced at the time to be in Denver, and who knew all the particulars in this case, having been retained to capture Saeger immediately after the robbery. He was at the Bennehoff house and took notes of all the circumstances, and searched for Saeger eight months without so much as getting a “pointer” as to his whereabouts, and finally gave up the chase. The gentleman had a talk with the prisoner, who confessed to him that he was the man they had been looking for. The Texas detective, although perhaps a slight bit jealous, was loud in his praise of his Rocky Mountain brother. For that matter, everybody congratulated and praised Gen. Cook for the good work which he had done. The Rocky Mountain News said:

“Our detective force has achieved a signal victory in this capture. We congratulate Mr. Cook on his good luck in capturing the robber. It is a great deal better for people to remain honest, or, if they will commit crimes, to keep away from the country where Dave Cook officiates. His eagle eye and insinuating manner will spot and fool the keenest of thieves.”

But what of the $100,000? the reader will be anxious to know. The result shows how ungrateful some people can be, and how great the risk that detectives take in hunting down and arresting wrong-doers. Bennehoff was notified of the arrest soon after it was made, and he sent his son, in company with an officer, forthwith, to secure the prisoner and whatever of valuables he might have retained. When the son came he offered Gen. Cook the paltry sum of $200 for his services. The offer was spurned, and negotiations as to the reward were then broken off with the young man, though suit was begun to recover the entire sum offered. But before papers could be served, Bennehoff had stolen out of town. So that part of the transaction ended. Having been treated so shabbily, Cook left Bennehoff to conduct his business with Saeger as best he could. The young man hurried his work through, fearing the suit and detention, and started back to Pennsylvania with notes from Saeger for part of the money which had been stolen, and which were secured by mortgage upon Saeger’s herds of cattle—which, by the way, it was discovered he did not own—not a single Texas steer. Indeed, it was ascertained by Gen. Cook soon afterwards, that Saeger had merely attached himself to a Texas drove and had come to Colorado as a herder. He had been driven out of Texas for his misdoings there. While in that state, and sailing under an alias, he had been chosen as an inspector of cattle at the Red river crossing, and as such used his official position to aid a few accomplices, with whom he had stolen 1,400 head of cattle. This fact became known before the stock was driven off, and Saeger only escaped lynching by hasty flight. This circumstance brought him to Colorado.

Gen. C. W. Wright was Saeger’s lawyer, and he was also busy at this time, and before the town knew it, Saeger had been released on a writ of habeas corpus, and was far away on a horse provided for his escape.

So far as is known, the Pennsylvania safe blower is still at liberty, if he is not dead, simply because a miserly old man was unwilling to pay a detective for his work. But the capture will go down to the future as one of the neatest ever made by an officer in the West.

A UTAH MURDERER’S CAPTURE.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

Mr. T. Jeff Carr, for a long time city marshal of Cheyenne, and for many years past a resident of that city, has long been one of the most vigilant as well as one of the most successful members of the Rocky Mountain Detective Association, ever working in perfect harmony with Gen. Cook.

On the 24th of July, 1881, Mr. Carr made an arrest in Cheyenne which resulted in the development of the facts in an unprovoked and heartless murder, which had previously occurred in Utah. The man arrested was one Fred Welcome, a young man, but, notwithstanding his age, thoroughly hardened in crime. He had come to Cheyenne about the 15th or 16th of July of the year above mentioned, and had been residing in that city, leading a pretty gay life, for a week, when Mr. Carr received a telegram describing the man and offering a large reward for his capture on the charge of murdering J. F. Turner, near Park City, Utah, early in the same month. On a train which came in from the west on the day of the arrest was J. W. Turner, father of the dead man and sheriff of Utah county, Utah, and William Allison, sheriff of Summit county, Utah, who were tracking the murderer, and from them and others afterwards the details of the crime were learned.

It appears that the elder Turner, who resided with his family at Provo, Utah, had been sheriff of his county for some time past, and that his son had frequently been associated with him in bringing the guilty to justice, and among others who had been brought to punishment through his instrumentality was this Fred Welcome, a young fellow who lived about town and who was never known for any good that he had done to any one. On the contrary, he was considered as a loafer and beat, and was frequently arrested for crimes of greater or less magnitude, and being arrested, was placed in jail. He seems to have held young Turner to blame especially for one term of his imprisonment, believing that Turner, who was cognizant of his crime, had informed upon him. He laid this up as a grudge against the young man, and threatened vengeance upon him for the act, saying to one of his fellow prisoners while incarcerated in the jail: “By G—d, I’ll kill him if it is ten years from now! I’ll follow him to his grave.”

But nothing was thought of this threat and others like it at the time they were made. They were considered as merely the vaporings of an idle mind. However, they were brought to mind soon afterwards in connection with the horrible suspicion that young Turner had been murdered after leaving home in company with Welcome, who had been released from jail.

As soon as he was out of prison, Welcome set himself to work to prevail upon the son of his jailer to go with him to the mining districts near Park City, saying that he had a claim there which was rich, and agreeing to give half of it to Turner on condition that the latter would go along and take two teams and wagons. The proposition was at first declined, but afterwards, upon the urgent and repeated solicitation of Welcome and the constant reiteration of his assertion as to the value of the mine, Turner consented to go, and all being in readiness they started out about the middle of June. Turner had two good wagons and two pairs of animals quite tempting to the eye of the lover of horseflesh. The wagons were also well laden with food for both man and beast, there being about a thousand pounds of barley in one of the wagons.

The teamsters camped near Park City for several days, but do not appear to have begun work immediately, and while there were joined by another party, a man named Emerson, who seems to have been a pal and an accomplice of Welcome’s. Together the three lived for a while, sleeping in a tent and making frequent excursions to the city together. Whether there were any quarrels among them does not appear, except upon the testimony of Welcome himself, who says there was a quarrel on the night of the murder, but his story is probably not good testimony in the connection.

Murder of J. F. Turner by Welcome and Emerson, in Utah.

The murder occurred on the evening of the 3d of July, 1880, but was not suspected for some days afterwards, as no one paid close attention to the movements of the teamsters or to their coming or going. There had been no witnesses to the crime to tell the story, and the murderers were allowed to move on unmolested and unsuspected. The first suspicion of the crime was formed by the family of young Turner, who, not hearing from the son for several days, began to fear that some evil had befallen him.

Being then told for the first time of the threats which Welcome had made that he would kill the young man, they became exceedingly anxious for tidings from the son, and began to set inquiries on foot. They heard nothing until one day a telegram came to them from Green River, Wyo., some twelve days after the murder, from a friend, informing them that a team which had once belonged to the Turners had been sold at that place. “My boy has been killed!” exclaimed Mr. Turner with sudden conviction, and the young man’s mother fell down in a swoon upon receiving what she too considered positive evidence that her boy had been slain by a murderer.

A day or two afterwards the news of the finding of the body of young Turner was taken to the already heart-broken parents. A mountain man named Leonard Phillips, living in Echo cañon, a stupendous and lonely gorge in the Sawatch range of mountains, familiar to all travelers over the Union Pacific railroad, had gone out one day to look up the outcropping of a quartz vein of whose existence he knew, and noticing a peculiar odor, determined to investigate the cause of it. The stench was so strong that he did not have to look a great while until he came upon a pile of stones thrown in between large rocks.

Looking down upon this mass of rock, Mr. Phillips beheld the limb of a human being protruding from the mass—quite a different outcropping from that which he had gone out to seek. He was naturally horrified at the discovery which he made, but after taking time to collect his thoughts, determined to investigate further. He soon succeeded in bringing the body to daylight, and was astonished at finding that, although there had been considerable decay, he was able to recognize the remains as those of J. F. Turner, whom he had known.

The fact of the ghastly find being made known to Mr. Turner, senior, he ordered the body sent to Provo, and there gave it a decent burial.

The sad rites being performed over the boy’s grave, Mr. Turner determined to hunt the murderer down. “I will follow him to the end of the earth but what I will find him,” he said. “The slayer of my boy shall not live a free man while I have life and means.” He accordingly prevailed upon his brother sheriff, Mr. Allison, to go along with him, and together they started in search of the murderer. There was no doubt in the mind of either that Welcome was the man wanted, but it was not known until afterwards that Emerson had had any connection with the case. Gradually they became possessed of the facts, which they found sufficiently horrible to shock any one not related to the murdered man, to say nothing of the sensation which must have been produced upon the father.

CHAPTER XL.

At Park City there were found witnesses who had seen the murderers on the evening of the tragedy, before and after its occurrence, and their conduct had been shameful in the extreme. Whether a quarrel was picked with Turner was not known, but the circumstances went to show that there had been no quarrel, but that the murderers had found their victim sitting, and had advanced upon him from his rear, striking him in the head with a heavy axe, the blow being of such force as to cleave the skull and produce instant death. Welcome asserted after his capture that the blow had been struck by Emerson, but all the circumstances went to show that Welcome himself had wielded the death-dealing weapon. The skull wound showed that the blow had been struck by a left-handed person, and Welcome was left-handed.

There were also several persons who had seen blood on his garments after the tragedy had occurred, as it had spurted upon him from his victim. His threats, too, were remembered. About 11 o’clock on the night of the killing, and after it had occurred, there were several who had seen Emerson and Welcome at a dance house where they seemed to be especially hilarious, drinking and dancing with the girls and making themselves especially agreeable to those whom they met. One man who was in the dance house at the time noticed blood on Welcome’s shirt front and asked him what it meant. Welcome at first tried to hide the blood; apparently upon second thought, threw his vest open and showed the blood, and also pulled up his coat sleeve and showed blood on that, saying as he did so:

“I hit a s— of a b— to-night, and I hit him hard, too. I not only hit him, but I pinched his windpipe for him.”

Several others saw the blood and to them he made this same speech, but no one supposed that anything more than an ordinary fight had occurred, and none gave the matter a second thought.

The murderers remained about Park City for two days and three nights after committing the crime, mingling freely with the lower classes of people and having as before a gay time. They had laid the body of their dead companion in the wagon with the barley sacks, and, cold-blooded and merciless as they had been, had been afraid to stay at their camp during the night, and had gone to town each night to carouse and to sleep, when they could sleep. They appeared to be nonchalant, but they found, as all murderers do, of however hardened character, that the crime bore down upon them. It was a heavy weight. They tried to drown it in drink and in the gayeties of dance house merriment. But they failed signally.

The murderers concluded that they must get rid of the body and that then they would find peace of conscience. They determined to move on, taking the body as well as the property of the murdered boy with them, and to find some place to hide it from view, thinking that in this case, as in some others, the object being out of sight would be out of mind. They journeyed on, however, selling some of the barley by the way, until they came to a lonely and secluded spot in Echo cañon, where they camped for the night, and where they lifted the body of their former companion from its resting place in the wagon from among the barley sacks, and as the darkness came on in the deep cañon, laid it to rest, leaving the owls and night hawks to sing the funeral dirge, and the moaning pines to offer up prayers for safe passage to the Great Beyond.

So the murderers were freed from their burden and they passed on over the country. But were they happy? And did they find that contentment of mind which they had hoped would come after getting rid of the corpse of their late friend? At Green River, Welcome said to a barkeeper whom he met there: “I can not sleep well at night; I am afraid.”

He then asked the barkeeper:

“Did you ever kill a man?” and added, “I never did.” Then he stopped for a moment as if engaged in thought, and said: “Yes, I have; I have killed a young and innocent man in cold blood.”

He seemed lost for a moment, and soon took his departure with a troubled countenance.

From the time the body was disposed of in the lonely spot in Echo cañon, the men pushed rapidly eastward, making an effort at every opportunity to dispose of their barley and their teams and wagons. They disposed of the grain at Evanston, and of the first team at Piedmont. Journeying on, they stopped for a few days at Green River, where the second team and wagon were sold. The articles were all offered at prices below their real values, and some suspicion was created. The murderers declared that they had owned the animals for four years; but they at last found a man who had known the team as belonging to Turner, and who had telegraphed him of the effort of a stranger to sell them.

This was the first clue which the father had of the son’s murder. While he was coming to Green River, accompanied by his friend, Sheriff Allison, the two men, having at last disposed of the property, took their departure quietly, and no one seemed to know which way they had gone. The pursuers only reached the place to find that their game had flown, and to find themselves arrived at the place with nothing to do, and with the prospect of starting back home without finding the object of their search. The old father’s heart was almost broken. As a last resort they telegraphed to Detective Carr, Superintendent Cook’s assistant at Cheyenne, on the 23d of July, and succeeded in getting him interested in the case. He had no idea that the murderer was near him at the time of receiving the telegram, but he immediately set to work with his usual vigor and shrewdness to bring down his game. He did not have to wait long.

Mr. Carr soon learned that there was a young man in the city who answered the description given of the murderer of young Turner. A brief investigation convinced the officer that this was the man that was wanted, but the detective determined to “make haste slowly” and as he knew that the fellow could not dodge him, he decided to watch him awhile before taking him in, merely for the sake of entirely satisfying himself as to the correctness of his conclusions. He found that the young man had been a guest at a leading hotel for a week past, and that he had been making himself generally agreeable, spending money freely and seeming to be in very easy circumstances. He was especially fond of buggy riding, and was a liberal patron of the livery stables. On the day that the telegram was received the young man went out for a drive, but, although he did not know that such was the case, he was closely shadowed by Carr.

The dispatch came just in time, for later in the day the murderer undertook to continue his journey eastward, going to the depot to take the train for Omaha. He was followed to the platform by Detective Carr, who by this time had learned that the pursuing officers would arrive in Cheyenne on the same train which Welcome had intended to board.

The scene as arranged and enacted proved tragic in the extreme. As the old father and his friend Allison stepped off the train at one end of the smoking car, Welcome undertook to step on at the other end.

Carr had stood around carelessly up to this time, but as the young man started to the train he said, sotto voce, “No you don’t,” and walking up to the young man laid his heavy hand on his shoulder, causing the youth to look with something of an astonished air, and exclaim:

“What is it?”

“I am a detective.”

“Oh, you are?”

“Yes, sir; come with me.”

“What for?”

“For murder—for the murder of young Turner.”

“So you’ve overtaken me. Well, by G—d, I suppose I’ll have to go! I did it, and there is no use to kick. Where are you taking me?”

“To meet the father of the man you murdered.”

Arrest of Welcome by T. Jeff Carr, in Cheyenne.

At this suggestion the fellow trembled visibly, but went along. When he was brought face to face with old man Turner, the latter’s face turned ashen pale, his teeth were set in a moment, and his hand was thrust into his hip pocket. A moment later and the sun’s rays were gleaming along the barrel of a large revolver which the old man had pulled, and with which, in a second more, he would have laid his son’s murderer low.

Mr. Carr, seeing the turn affairs were taking, stepped in to prevent further bloodshed.

Welcome was taciturn and sullen in the presence of the father of his victim, but being again alone with Carr, he said:

“By G—d I done it, and I expect to swing for it. I killed Turner and sold his team, and have spent the money. I am guilty and I expect to swing; of course I do.”

Before leaving for home with the prisoner, Mr. Turner said to a Cheyenne reporter, with whom he talked:

“I want you to distinctly understand that Mr. Carr of your place deserves all the credit of catching this rascal, and had it not been for him he would have slipped our fingers.”

The reward in this case amounted to a round thousand.

Once on board the train bound for Utah, Welcome became quite communicative. He had told Carr before leaving that he himself had killed young Turner, and that he had done so because he had a grudge against him, and because he wanted his property. Now he denied all connection with the murder, and said that the crime had been committed by Emerson, saying that Emerson and Turner had quarreled, and that Emerson killed Turner in the fight.

The trial took place at Salt Lake City, on the 18th day of February, 1881, and resulted in proving a clear case against Welcome, who did not introduce a particle of rebutting testimony. The jury was out only a few minutes, when it brought in a verdict of guilty in the first degree. The sentence would necessarily have been death, had not Welcome’s lawyers succeeded in getting his case before the supreme court, where it was remanded back for a new trial.

Emerson, Welcome’s accomplice, was disposed of more summarily. He was captured near Green River, in August, 1880, and tried at the succeeding May term of the Salt Lake district court, and sentenced to the penitentiary for life, and he is now serving out his sentence.

CHAPTER XLI.

The second trial of Welcome, or Hopt, as he declared his name to be, did not bring out any new evidence to materially affect the case, one way or the other, and the verdict was the same as in the former trial.

Again his attorneys carried the case through the territorial supreme court, and then on to the supreme court of the United States, securing another trial with the same result.

Still hoping to wear out the prosecution, and especially the unceasing efforts of Mr. Turner, the father of the murdered man, the attorneys for the fourth time invoked the aid of the supreme court and secured a fourth and last trial. Despite the cunning of his attorneys, and the sympathy of the powerful Mormon church, which he had in some manner secured, there could be but the one verdict, and that of wilful and premeditated murder. Hopt heard the verdict with stoical indifference, and as the laws of the territory permitted a man to choose between shooting and hanging as the death penalty, Hopt chose to be shot, and Judge Zane set the time for his execution on Thursday, August 11, 1887, more than seven years after the commission of the awful crime.

Another and final appeal was made by his attorneys to have the United States supreme court set the verdict aside, but that patient tribunal finally refused to longer retard justice, and declined to interfere. Strong pressure was then brought upon Gov. West, but he, too, decided that the murderer had been given too many chances to escape the consequences of his crime already, and declined to interfere.

Finding that there was no alternative but death, Hopt gave up all hope, and as the date of the execution approached, Marshal Dyer began his preparations. A space was cleared within the prison walls, and a cloth tent for the executioners, who were five in number, was set up.

Hopt’s nerve staid with him to the last. He ate his meals regularly, and his sleep was apparently undisturbed by any apparitions of his victim. At 11 o’clock on the day of his execution he ordered his dinner, which he ate with a relish, and then called for a cigar. It is doubtful whether any martyr ever met his doom with greater fortitude or more real stoicism than that which Fred Hopt exhibited in accepting the fate which the law dealt out to him. He faced Winchester rifles with a boldness and intrepidity that were remarkable, and while some fifty or sixty men who had been specially permitted to witness the execution stood aghast at the scene, he exhibited not the least evidence of excitement.

He sat on a cane-bottomed chair, posing as though he were looking into a camera instead of gazing down the muzzles of five death-dealing weapons. Four of the 45-70 Winchesters were loaded, the fifth carrying a blank cartridge, so that none of the executioners could lay the flattering unction to his soul that his gun carried the deadly missile. The names of the executioners were kept a profound secret. They were covered with black cambric to their ankles, holes being cut in their hoods to see out of.

They were sent to the firing tent at 12:30 o’clock, to which United States Deputy Marshals Pratt and Cannon had already carried the weapons. This tent, which was thirty-six feet from the victim’s chair, was of canvas, all enclosed, with five three-inch square loopholes cut in the north side. The shooting took place in the northeast corner of the penitentiary yard, the other prisoners having all been locked in the dining room fifteen minutes prior to the time when Hopt was brought forth.

It was 12:30 o’clock when Hopt was told that every thing was ready, and he marched deliberately from his cell to the spot where, seven minutes later, he paid the penalty of his crime, He was dressed in a suit of black diagonal clothes, his Prince Albert coat, low shoes, white shirt, white tie, and derby hat giving him a ministerial appearance. He walked unfalteringly beside Marshal Dyer, and on reaching the chair, said:

“Now, gentlemen, I have come here to face my fate. Had justice been done me at my first trial, I would not have been here to-day for this purpose. I have no ill will toward any man living, and now consign my soul to God.”

Execution of Fred Hopt at Salt Lake for the Murder of J. F. Turner.

A paper one and one-half inches square was pinned over the condemned man’s heart, the good-byes were said, Marshal Dyer gave the order to fire, the guns clicked as though operated by one man, and in the twinkling of an eye Hopt was dead, two balls piercing his heart, and the other two passing through the body half an inch below that organ. There was a slight spasmodic action of the muscles of the throat, but not a muscle of the arms or legs twitched. Death was instantaneous. Father Kelly, the Catholic priest who had been with Hopt in his last hours, administered extreme unction. The body was prepared by the physicians, placed in a coffin, and taken to an undertaker’s establishment in the city.

Sheriff Turner was not permitted to witness the execution of his son’s murderer, but stood outside the walls and heard the shots fired which put an end to the wretch’s existence.

Hopt made no confession. He was very guarded in all his utterances during his last hours, but he made no protestations of innocence, nor did he say aught implicating Jack Emerson, who was at least an accessory after the fact.

The execution of Frederick Hopt for the murder of John F. Turner, seven long years after the crime, rung down the curtain on a drama as replete with startling incidents as any to be found in the realms of fiction. It is certainly one of the causes celebre of the West, and its thrilling events find but few parallels in the annals of criminal judicature. The case was made interesting, not only by the fact that the crime was a dastardly one, but also because one of the officers who tracked the murderer was the father of his victim; not only by reason of the fact that that father on three or four occasions saved the villain from mob violence, nor yet, because of the patience with which that parent for seven long years waited to see justice meted out and the law vindicated, but it is interesting because it emphasizes the marvelous safeguards which the law throws around a prisoner in this country, and the maudlin sentimentality which a criminal can arouse, no matter how cold-blooded his crime may have been.

A TALE OF TWO CONTINENTS.

CHAPTER XLII.