Hanging of Andrew Green in the bed of Cherry Creek July 27, 1886.

A mob of several hundred men and boys was formed the night after their capture, to break into the jail and hang the two negroes, but lacking leadership it was soon dispersed by the police.

Public excitement and the danger of lynching induced the calling of a special grand jury, the indictment of Green and Withers and a speedy trial. They were tried separately. On the 22d of June the trial of Green opened. Two days were spent empaneling a jury, and on June 25 he was convicted of murder in the first degree, and sentenced to be hanged on July 27. Withers was allowed to plead guilty to murder in the second degree, and was sentenced to the state penitentiary at Cañon City for life, where he is now serving his time, having made two or three ineffectual attempts to secure a pardon.

The efforts of Green’s attorneys to secure a new trial were unsuccessful, and he was executed on the day set by Judge Elliott, July 27. The scaffold, which was a very simple affair of the “twitch up” variety, was erected in the bend of Cherry creek, directly east of the Smith chapel, West Denver, and about midway between Broadway and Colfax Avenue bridges. The execution was public and free to everybody, and the crowd was estimated at 15,000. Green stepped upon the low scaffold in an easy, careless manner, fully conscious of the fact that he was entertaining the crowd of his life, and deriving no small amount of satisfaction therefrom. He was permitted by Sheriff Cramer to deliver a long rambling speech, in the course of which he advised everybody to beware of drink and gambling halls, which he said had led to his ruin. At the conclusion of his speech the black cap was adjusted, and at 2:20 Sheriff Cramer cut the rope. Green’s body rose slowly into the air and his limbs twitched convulsively for several minutes. At the end of twenty-five minutes he was pronounced dead, and his body was taken down and delivered to the undertakers. The autopsy disclosed the fact that his neck was not broken.

Thus ended the career of as depraved a wretch as ever existed. According to the story of his life, written by him for a local paper, his thieving propensities were early developed, as was his disregard for human life. At the age of fourteen he had shot his father while the latter was chastising him for a theft, inflicting a severe wound. After that he had served sentences in innumerable jails and workhouses for various crimes, principally stealing. He had also served a five-year term in the Missouri penitentiary for a burglary committed at Lexington, a little town near which he was born. The trial and execution of Green scared hundreds of petty crooks away from Denver, and for a long time afterward the city was almost entirely free from holdups and burglaries.

THE ITALIAN MURDERS.

CHAPTER VII.

One of the most horrible crimes that ever cast a silhouette athwart the darkened pages of criminal history was revealed to the startled citizens of Denver on the 21st day of October, 1875, consisting in the discovery of what afterwards became known throughout the state as the Italian murders. The revelation of the crime, the obscurity of the victims, the length of time elapsing between the perpetration and the discovery, the mystery enveloping the deed with an apparently impregnable mantle, and the swift following detection and apprehension of the perpetrators, all combine to form the basis for one of the most interesting narratives ever found in criminal or detective literature.

For several days prior to the finding of the bodies of the victims, those residing in the vicinity of No. 2334 Lawrence street had detected the presence of a stench, faint at first, but daily increasing, leading to a suspicion that the body of some animal had been permitted to remain there long after life was extinct. The smell from this supposed carcass becoming more obnoxious, the investigation which eventually revealed the crime, that all were surprised to find had been committed, was instituted.

Accompanied by an officer, persons residing in the neighborhood began a search, and their attention was directed to an unoccupied frame building, where countless flies swarmed around the windows, causing a suspicion that within the portals of the house reposed the object sought.

The building contained three rooms, the front and larger one communicating with those in the rear by a hall, while a rude, unfinished cellar had been excavated below. The door was unlocked, and pushing it open, the room was gained, when it became apparent that crime and not carelessness would be revealed.

Evidences of a sanguinary encounter were but too plainly visible. There was blood on the floor, and a dozen pools were yet bright and crimson. On the walls were great splotches of blood, and in the hall leading to the kitchen the tell-tale imprints of bloody hands seemed to point with grim and ghastly fingers the way to the crime.

The house was destitute of furniture, but in the middle apartment stood a scissor-grinding machine, over which had been thrown a torn and soiled blanket, revealing the occupation of some of the late inmates. Following along the hall, where a crimson trail proved that some heavy and bleeding object had been dragged, the kitchen was reached. This room was very dirty, and contained a broken stove, a wash boiler, a box, a dilapidated valise and some fragments of food. Here a trap-door was found, and when it was opened a rush of effluvia nearly overpowered those present. A rickety stair led to the dark hole beneath. A candle was procured, and its fitful flame exposed a sight that passes all description.

Under the stairs, in a dark, filthy corner, lay four decaying human bodies, piled two on two, with all four heads touching the wall. Over them had been thrown some dirty mattresses and blankets, and on these a miscellaneous assortment of traps piled on as weights. At the feet of the bodies lay three large harps, two violins, a scissor-grinding machine, a hatchet, a hammer and several dirks. The edge of the hatchet was besmeared with blood, while to the handle still clung a tuft of hair, showing that the tool had been used in the bloody murder. The dirks were blood-covered from point to hilt. On the harp-strings and on the violins and also on the stairs, the life-tide of the victims had left its gory stain, while the mattresses and blankets were saturated with it.

The clothing, down to the bloody shirts, had been stripped from the bodies of the victims, while those of the others were slit and rent where the cruel knives had torn their way to the vitals.

THE ITALIAN MURDER.

But greater horrors and more ghastly sights than these were there. The four throats had been cut from ear to ear, and the sickening wounds gaped wide, like the mouth of some huge fish. The abdomens, the arms and the hands of the bodies had been cut and mangled, while the blackened faces scarcely any trace of humanity wore.

The coroner was soon on the scene, and while the undertaker was transferring the bodies to coffins, a crowd of morbid sightseers assembled. The news of the discovery spread with marvelous rapidity, and the throng grew larger and larger, until the streets, the neighboring yards and even the adjacent housetops were packed with people. Men, women and children fairly trampled each other in their wild desire to view the bodies, and the officers were powerless to preserve anything approaching decorum.

The wildest and most exaggerated stories were circulated. It was evident to all that a quadruple murder had been committed, but no one knew the authors of the crime or its inspiration; for while it was known that a party of Italians had occupied the house, no one could be found who had seen any one enter or emerge since the preceding Sunday. One body was identified by a colored shoemaker, who had repaired the shoes still on its feet, but aside from the fact that one of the victims was an old Italian called “Uncle Joe,” and that the others were three boys, two of whom had passed as his sons, and the other as his nephew, little could be gleaned from the excited crowd.

The four bodies were taken away in an express wagon and buried in the Potter’s field. Still the object of the crime and by whom committed were things wrapped in mystery so profound that it seemed as though the final day alone would reveal the awful secret.

But all are not gifted with that insight into the ways of crime that comes only from long experience in hunting it out, and is often so marvelous that it takes the aspect of instinct. Gen. D. J. Cook, chief of the Rocky Mountain Association, and then sheriff of Arapahoe county, without waiting for any offer of reward, took the case in hand even before the coroner’s jury had completed its task. With a shrewdness almost without parallel he had comprehended a theory of the murders, and had his vigilant detectives on the track of the murderers.

The inquest developed but few facts, and these strengthened the theory the keen chief had entertained. Persons were found who identified the remains as those of Guiseppe Peccora, his two sons, Giovanni and Guiseppe, and a nephew called Luigi, and the fact was also elicited that Filomeno Gallotti, Michiele Ballotti and one or more unknown confederates had been their former associates.

Little was known of the class to which the victims belonged, for by occupation they were itinerant musicians and scissor-grinders, and were constantly wandering from place to place. No. 2334 Lawrence street had been a lounging place for some eight or ten of this class.

Putting this and that together, Gen. Cook formed the theory that the old man and three boys had been murdered by the visitors for their money, although many entertained the idea that a free fight had culminated in the death of the weaker ones, and that the visitors had hastily concealed the bodies and fled. Suspicion pointed to a gang of Italians headed by Gallotti, who had occupied a shanty on lower Fifteenth street, and Cook soon ascertained that some nine or ten made that a stopping place, as shown by the registry lists of the ward in which the building stood. The boss of the gang was this Filomeno Gallotti, a man possessing some means, and the owner of a tin shop at that place. Antonio Dertiro, a good looking, fair haired boy, claimed to be his apprentice at the munificent salary of $150 a year, and the wily detective learned that on the Thursday or Friday preceding the discovery of the bodies this youth had disappeared. The following day Gallotti also took his departure. It was learned that he claimed that the boy had stolen some money, and that he professed to be following him—all of which Gen. Cook pronounced “too thin.” The tools, traps and miscellaneous plunder had disappeared from the shop, and none of the gang had been seen after Saturday night.

While the coroner’s jury was pursuing its investigations, Cook and his men were at work on their own clues. They had already become thoroughly convinced that Gallotti and his satellites were responsible for the murder, and determined to waste no time in waiting upon the verdict of the inquisition. They set to work to discover the extent of the conspiracy, which to their minds had resulted in the wholesale murder; to determine upon the participants in the first place, and in the next to obtain clues by which they might be hunted down. They had disappeared; that was a point beyond peradventure. But whither had they gone? This was more important to those who were anxious that justice should be meted out to the wretches responsible for the crime, the horrible evidences of which confronted the community. It had become quite evident that Gallotti had been engaged in the murder, and Gen. Cook was also convinced that he had had accomplices, but who they were and what marks of identification they bore were among the facts which were not known, but which detective skill was expected to bring to light. There was evidently much work to be done. All were crying for the apprehension of the criminals—the state, the county, the city, the people. But no one offered a reward. Calling his associates together, Gen. Cook spoke briefly to the point, without any flourish of rhetoric or waste of words. “Boys,” he said, “you know there has been a great crime committed here. The murderers are hardly known; of their whereabouts we are utterly ignorant. They must be brought to justice, and that is our work. There is no reward offered, but at this time we will not wait to ask for pay. Hunt the scoundrels down at any cost, and I will see that your bills are met. Do your duty.” After a brief comparison of notes the men were off, this one going here and that one there, as Gen. Cook might direct.

It was not long until the discovery was made that Gallotti had been assisted in his work of murder by several others—perhaps half a dozen. A clue found here and another there gradually disclosed to the detectives the work before them. In prosecuting their investigations they learned something of the character of Gallotti himself. His history had been one of thrilling and romantic interest—fitting him especially for the role he had assumed as leader of the murderous band of this city. Back in Italy he had been a member of a band of outlaws, which for a score of years had been the terror of travelers and residents of the district in which it operated. Stolen from his home as a boy by these banditti, Gallotti grew up with them, soon became one of them, and gradually advanced in his accomplishments until he became one of the most renowned of the gang. He was cold-blooded, cunning, self-possessed and daring when necessary. To him no man’s life was sacred. Murder was regarded only as a part of the work necessary to secure booty. Gallotti never shirked his “duty” when assassination was a part of it. Ultimately he was elected chief of the band of which he had long been virtually leader, but soon afterwards was compelled to flee the country. He came to America and ultimately landed in Denver, where he became acquainted with Michiele Ballotti and others of his nationality, including “Old Joe” and his boys. It was further learned that the children who called Pecorra “father” and “uncle” were not united to him by any tie of kindred, but that he was merely an old padrone who had stolen the boys and was compelling them to work and earn money for him. He worked himself as a scissor grinder and sent the boys out as musicians, and compelled them at times to beg for money. When they came home at the end of the day, with scant earnings, he beat and abused them; so that they worked hard and brought many a coin to the old man. Pecorra was supposed by Gallotti to be rich, and adding this point to the knowledge which he possessed of the outlaw’s character, Gen. Cook had no difficulty in fixing upon him as the leader of the murderous gang.

Another point of more immediate interest was soon brought to light. In looking about, Gen. Cook learned of numerous purchases that had been made by Italians. Many such articles as agricultural implements and guns had been purchased by the men whom he had come to suspect as the murderers. He was thus led to infer that it was the intention of the murderers to go into farming somewhere. He concluded that they would not risk their lives by remaining near Denver. If they had been going East they would not have bought these articles in Denver. He took the precaution to telegraph to all the important European seaports to have the men apprehended in case they should land, spending no small amount of money for cablegrams. But he was really convinced from the first that the men whom he sought had not gone across the plains, and that they did not intend to cross them. Putting this and that together he reached the conclusion in an instant that the men would make an effort to escape by going south to Mexico. He also learned that three men, who were described as Italians or Mexicans, had boarded a south-bound train at Littleton a few days previous. He concluded that these were the men, or some of the men, that he wanted. Selecting the late W. Frank Smith and R. Y. Force, as two of the most efficient of his officers, he started them south in pursuit of the culprits.

CHAPTER VIII.

Meantime the coroner’s jury continued its work. A verdict was rendered in accordance with the facts gleaned concerning the murders as related in the previous chapter, but beyond these nothing was known. The suspected men had disappeared, and it was shown that the crime had been committed nearly a week before it was discovered. Public indignation ran high, and it was feared that, should the murderers be captured, the enraged people would not brook the necessary delay incident to the legal trial of the fiends. This feeling culminated in the firing of the house on Lawrence street a few nights after the discovery of the crime. The firemen confined their attention to the preservation of the adjoining buildings, and by one accord public sentiment allowed the building to be entirely consumed.

The details of the pursuit and capture of the criminals, with the trials and adventures of the detectives, form a most interesting and thrilling narrative, and give an insight into the ways adopted by those keen men who render crime doubly dangerous by making the punishment of the offenders approximately inevitable.

The manner in which the perilous and responsible duty of tracking the murderers was performed proves the chief’s sagacity in selecting Smith and Force for the work. For twenty-one days and nights they tracked the villains. Scarcely sleeping, alike regardless of hot suns, cold rains or chilling snows, through cañons, over plains, wandering through the slums and by-ways, these men of iron nerve and tireless constitution pursued their object until they met with the reward due their skill and perseverance.

Pursuant to the instructions of Chief Cook the detectives started south on Saturday morning after the discovery of the crime. At Pueblo they separated, Force remaining there, while Smith proceeded to Cañon City. The air was full of rumors, many wild and without foundation, while others possessed the element of plausibility. It was no easy task to arrive at anything like a correct opinion by giving credence to any rumor, but after infinite difficulty a trail was discovered at Pueblo leading toward Trinidad. This Mr. Smith was averse to taking, and so telegraphed Gen. Cook, but the latter replied: “Go ahead; the money is mine.” Smith and Force at once joined at Pueblo and hastened to Trinidad. Arriving there they went to a saloon frequented by Italians, and there found some of the very men for whom they were searching, namely, Michiele Ballotti, Silvestro Campagne and Leonardo Allesandri, against whom there were strong suspicions, who were making music for the saloon loafers with all their might. After looking on for a moment to make sure of their game, the officers approached the startled musicians with drawn guns and demanded a surrender, which was sullenly acceded to. Detective Smith at once asked Ballotti when he came to Trinidad. Ballotti answered quite coolly to the effect that he had been there about two weeks, but Silvestro trembled visibly, and seemed to realize that they were about to get into trouble. Being confident that these were the men they sought, the detectives took them in charge and placed them in jail.

Up to the present time it will be borne in mind that there had as yet been no definite clue obtained as to the identity of the murderers. It is true that strong suspicion had been aroused, but, after all, suspicion is no proof. It remained for these three men to “give the whole thing dead away.” When they were taken to jail and searched some of the money taken from old Pecorra’s house was found upon the persons of the men, and when they were stripped the most convincing proofs of their guilt stared the officers in the face. The undershirts which they wore were still saturated with blood—blood which they confessed had flown from the veins of their victims, the padrone and his little boy slaves.

The fact of the crime being once acknowledged, the men were very free to talk, and they not only confessed their own crime, but revealed the names of others engaged with them, and poured into the ears of the detectives the bloody story of the murder which they had committed a few days before in Denver. The same stories were afterwards repeated in Denver, and will be told in their proper place. The names of the murderous band, including their own, as revealed by this delectable trio, were: Filomeno Gallotti, Henry Fernandez, John Anatta, Frank Valentine, Michiele Ballotti, Silvestro Campagne, Leonardo Allesandri, Guiseppe Pinachio and Leonardo Deodotta, all of them being Italians except Fernandez, who was a Mexican.

They also told a story which confirmed Cook’s theory that the band intended to flee to Mexico, and informed the officers where proof could be obtained of the facts in the case. They stated that not only agricultural implements had been secured, but guns and ammunition as well. The party had intended to select as a hiding place some quite, secluded valley, where they could make their headquarters, and whence they, as a band of brigands of the old Italian model, could make their forays upon the traveling and civilized world. They stated further that Gallotti and some of his men had fled from Denver, but that they had left confederates in the persons of Deodotta and old Joe Pinachio, living quietly near Sloan’s lake, who, they said, knew of the whereabouts not only of the implements and munitions to be sent to Gallotti in Mexico, but also of the place at which was hidden away the bulk of the money taken from old Pecorra’s house after the murder, as well. These facts were, of course, promptly telegraphed to Gen. Cook, who acted upon them, as shall be detailed in the proper place.

Within two hours the prisoners were securely ironed, and the next morning they commenced the journey that would terminate in the city where they had committed the terrible crimes, and where the news of their capture was, even then, creating wild excitement.

By 5 o’clock on the afternoon of their arrival a crowd began to gather at the depot. The afternoon was dark and lowering, and a fitful fall of snow chilled the air. But the impatient crowds surged and stamped around in a vain effort to keep warm, determined to suffer rather than to let the prisoners arrive without their knowledge. Day was fading to chill and cheerless night when the train drew up at the platform. A wild rush ensued, but the police kept a passageway open, and the prisoners were soon landed in an omnibus that had been secured for the purpose, officers mounted the top and with Gen. Cook and his assistant detectives inside and an officer on the step, the omnibus started for the jail. Scarcely had the wheels revolved, ere the crowd by one great common impulse made a rush for the vehicle with cries of “a rope!” “a rope!” “hang them!” which were caught up and repeated until the vast array seemed turned into a mighty mob bent on avenging the death of the old man and the boys, determined on a sudden and swift execution of the human birds of prey, and it seemed as though the officers would be powerless to protect the ironed ingrates who trembled as they beheld the wrath of the populace. Chief Cook was there, and his cool and steady eye had watched the pulsations of the throng, and just as the vehicle was fairly surrounded he drew his revolver and ordered the leaders of the mob back. Detective Smith was ordered to present his Winchester, which he did, and the officer on the steps also covered those nearest him. The crowd fell back and the driver lashed his horses into a run, ploughing through the crowd. Numbers followed, intent on overtaking the omnibus and capturing the criminals, while others rushed on to see the results. The tide swept down Blake street in a wild disordered procession. The driver was instructed to push the horses, and in a few moments the prisoners were securely locked in the jail, to their great relief, and to the disappointment of the crowd that had followed, hoping to see them dangle from the limb of some tree or suspended from a telegraph pole.

Great satisfaction was felt that these wretches had been secured, and the public sentiment, which always sooner or later arrives at correct conclusions, could find no praise too flattering for the able superintendent and his worthy assistants.

After hearing the news from Trinidad, and especially that which told of the presence of some of those who had been implicated in the murders near Denver, Gen. Cook was not idle, but he went to work to make investigations here. He began by arresting an Italian known as “Old Joe,” who lived on the ranch near Sloane’s lake, with Deodotta. Joe was placed in jail for a day or so. He was a half-crazy creature, and it was believed that he could be made to tell whatever he might know of the facts in the case. He was consequently informed by Cook that he must either divulge his secrets or submit to sudden annihilation. He promised to reveal everything, but when taken by Gen. Cook out to the place where the treasure was supposed to be buried, he failed to find the spot, either because of ignorance or craftiness.

Better success was had with Deodotta. He was also placed under arrest, and after being told that he must die or tell where the money taken from old Pecorra’s house had been buried, he promised to do all in his power to find it. He was accordingly taken from the jail one morning before sunrise and driven out to his house and told to find the treasure, no one accompanying the detective and his prisoner except the driver of the express wagon. Arriving at the place, Deodotta made a last effort to conceal the whereabouts of the money, and when his protestations were doubted he crossed his breast and prayed with fervor. When Cook swore at him, he crawled on his knees and cried before him like a sniveling cur. After digging in one or two places for the money and failing to find it, Cook leveled his gun at the old sinner’s head and said to him:

“Now find that money in just one minute or I’ll kill you where you stand.”

There was no foolishness now. Quick as thought Deodotta jumped to a spot where lay a bone and where a weed was standing with the top end stuck in the ground, and with two or three strokes of the pick, brought the treasure to light. It consisted of a package of money amounting to $350 which had belonged to the murdered man, and which was picked up and brought back to town by Gen. Cook, and Deodotta once more lodged in jail. Thus was a very essential part of the work performed with but little ostentation and no blow in the newspapers.

Finding of the Treasure stolen from old Joe Pecorra by his murderers, under direction of Gen. Cook.

CHAPTER IX.

It must not be supposed that Gen. Cook had been devoting his entire attention to either the men who had been captured at Trinidad or those taken near Denver. He had now learned enough to know that Gallotti had been the organizer and head executor of the quadruple murder, and him he wanted more than any other of the gang of cut-throats. He had been seeking anxiously for some clue that would reveal the whereabouts of this wretch and lead to his capture. The most assiduous attention and the most arduous labor seemed at first likely to prove barren of results. At last one night, however, Gen. Cook was summoned to a dark side of the street by an individual, who poured into the general’s anxious ear the story of the flight of the chief of the band and three of his accomplices. This man was a friend of the Spaniard, Fernandez, and to convince the detective that he spoke the truth he pulled a letter from his pocket, from Fernandez, bearing the post mark of Fort Garland, in San Luis park. This letter was turned over to Gen. Cook, and being read revealed the welcome news that Gallotti and Fernandez and Anatta were then in San Luis park, making their way to Mexico by going down the Rio Grande river. The letter told further that they were traveling by slow stages, that because Gallotti had sent Valentine back to Denver on horseback to carry certain instructions to Deodotta and to bring the money deposited near Sloan’s lake to him.

This was about as good a thing as Cook wanted. He slept but little that night, but devoted himself with all the intensity of his nature to maturing plans for the pursuit and capture of the outlaws. He decided to put the pursuing expedition in charge of Smith, who should be accompanied by an Italian who had taken the American name of James Lewis, and who, by the way, afterwards became the notorious Arizona Bill. This man knew Gallotti and besides spoke English as well as Italian. He was known to be faithful and was considered “a happy hit.”

The two men were off early the next morning, bound for the southward, Smith carrying a letter from Cook to Maj. Horace Jewett, who was then in command at Fort Garland, informing the major of the mission of the detectives and requesting him to furnish them with whatever facilities might be required for the prosecution of their work. They were told to obtain army horses and to dress as soldiers, for Americans other than “blue-coats” were then scarce in San Luis, and likely to create suspicion. Armed with these and other instructions from their chief, the men departed upon their mission, going as far as they could in the cars, the Denver and Rio Grande railroad then being completed only to Walsenburg. Leaving the railroad they turned their faces westward, towards San Luis park.

After walking a few miles they secured a team of horses from a ranchman, with which they expected to continue the journey. The horses unfortunately were affected with the epizootic, then raging, and proved a source of inconvenience and annoyance. From one place to another through the San Luis valley the trail was steadily followed. At Fort Garland, Maj. Jewett received the officers cordially and entered heartily into the plan suggested by Gen. Cook, giving Smith and Lewis soldiers’ uniforms and a pair of government mules branded “U. S.” Assuming the role of government officers in search of deserters, the pursuers continued their journey to Culabra, where it was hoped to intercept the criminals. But in this hope the officers were disappointed, for upon arriving there it was discovered that the men sought had gone further southward. But a point was gained in learning that they were on the trail.

It was ascertained that while in Culabra, the fugitives had stopped at the house of a Frenchman. The Frenchman was ready to render any assistance in his power, and to this end informed the detective that the men had gone on foot about fourteen miles down Culabra creek. By a little sharp practice it was discovered that the Frenchman was endeavoring to aid the criminals and had himself lent them horses and accompanied them on the road towards Taos, N. M.

Detective Smith here suddenly conceived a violent passion for the sheep business. His suit of blue was changed for a brand new one corresponding with his newly assumed avocation, and a broad-brimmed hat and a glittering array of jewelry completed the make-up of as perfect a stock king as ever proudly paced the soil of New Mexico. A gentleman named Thaw, who had formerly been a policeman in Denver, and who was now living in San Luis, was called upon, and the detective’s wand also transformed him into a sheep buyer, and he was at once admitted as a partner in the imaginary firm. The interpreter, Lewis, was also given a new role, or rather a double character. He was to ride along the road and inquire for his “partners,” describing the other Italians whom they were pursuing, and at various places he would also claim to be connected with the firm of sheep purchasers as an assistant. At Sierra de Guadaloupe they passed one night, and Lewis lost no time in spreading the news that the detective and his partner were men of means, traveling through the country for the purpose of buying sheep. The entire population turned out to see them, and by cautious inquiries they learned that the murderers had undoubtedly gone toward Taos.

Before daylight the officers were on the road again, and by rapid driving reached Taos during the afternoon. Repairing to the only hotel in the place, the detective again “talked sheep,” and soon gathered around a good share of the population, nearly all of whom had sheep to exchange for the ducats the detective was supposed to possess. Here it was learned that there were only about thirty-five Americans in the county, the balance of the population consisting of Mexicans and Pueblo Indians, and all the officers being Mexicans, which was a point against the detectives. They kept a vigilant outlook for Lewis, and ere long that individual was observed approaching, mounted on his mule, wearing a most abject mien. Turning at once to Thaw, Smith exclaimed in a loud voice: “Here comes that d——d greaser, looking for his partners.” The remark attracted attention, and as Lewis dismounted the crowd went to the door.

Arrest of Gallotti and one of his pals at Taos, N. M., by Smith and Arizona Bill.

Lewis commenced inquiries for his “partners,” and as he talked Spanish fluently, he soon discovered that three men answering the description given were then in the town. Bidding the interpreter to remain at the hotel, the detectives at once went to a store kept by two Americans named Miller and Clothier. Here they ascertained that Filomeno Gallotti had borrowed a gun, and that he had left five $20 gold pieces to sell.

Being satisfied that they had the criminals almost within their grasp, Mr. Smith cast about for some plan whereby they could entrap them. To that end he sent for Thaw and Lewis, and Gallotti was then sought out and brought to the store under the pretext that Clothier desired to sell more gold for him. Although a wily and cunning brute, Gallotti suspected nothing, and almost immediately presented himself in front of the store, where he met Lewis, who, in a surprised and highly delighted manner, grasped Gallotti by the hand. That grasp was not one easily to be shaken off, however, for fingers of iron held the criminal’s hand as in a vise of steel. A moment later Smith came up from behind and seized Gallotti’s left hand, as if also to shake hands, and turning he gazed into the muzzle of a cocked revolver.

Gallotti realized instantly that he had been entrapped, and that resistance would be worse than useless, and begged piteously for his life. He was disarmed and handcuffed, and the leader of the band of murderers was in the clutch of the law.

But how were the others to be secured? Fate made this easy of accomplishment, for hardly had the handcuffs clicked around the wrists of the prisoner than another Italian entered the store. He was promptly seized, but proved to be a resident of the place. He was badly frightened, however, and seeing this the detective told him he would be allowed his freedom provided he would bring Fernandez and Anatta to them. To this demand he gladly acceded, and soon returned with John Anatta, who was at once overpowered and placed in irons. [The artist has chosen to group the capture, and is a little at fault, but not seriously so, as he presents the scene soon after the taking.]

One other of the men for whom the officers were searching was still unsecured. By judicious inquiry it was learned that this one was Henry Fernandez, the Mexican, the knowledge of whose connection with the crime had led Gen. Cook to infer so correctly that the criminals had gone south. It was ascertained that he had gone that morning in the direction of Red river. The Mexican officials of the county insisted upon a requisition being shown before they would consent to see the officers depart with their men, but their qualms of conscience were eased by the presentation of a purse of $100, and the captors and captives were allowed to depart. The detectives at once gave chase to Fernandez, and reached Red river at night. Here they discovered the house in which Fernandez was sleeping, and soon had secured him.

Having three of the fugitives for whom they had been in pursuit, the detectives pushed on rapidly to Fort Garland, and thence to Pueblo. After an uneventful journey the railroad was reached, and the second trio of prisoners were soon en route for Denver.

The fact that the capture had been accomplished was kept comparatively quiet, the previous lesson having been sufficient for the officers. But a large crowd was present when they landed at the depot. The manacled murderers were lifted bodily from the cars and placed in an omnibus. A few policemen rode on the top, Gen. Cook being inside with Smith and the prisoners, having joined them down the road. Aside from the presence of the officers there was nothing in the appearance of the party to attract attention. The crowd followed the vehicle out of curiosity, manifesting no especial feeling, probably remembering the prompt rebuff they had met on the previous occasion.

After Gallotti and his crowd were placed in jail they were seated for a few moments in a row along the wall, while reporters, officers and others passed around, eager to scan the faces and to discuss the relative depravity of the interesting trio.

Thus were eight of the monstrous butchers pursued and captured. But one other was yet at large, and Superintendent Cook considered his task incomplete while any of the death-dealing demons were free to enjoy the fruits of their awful crime. Frank Valentine was the only one of the number now at liberty. He had returned to Denver, but found his accomplices locked up, and had wisely taken his departure to return to Gallotti. Valentine had been a companion and associate of the gang at the tin-shop, but aside from the fact that he bore the title of “The Miner,” and that he had come on this mission for the chief murderer, but little was known concerning him.

Superintendent Cook silently commenced a series of close investigations, and finally concluded that this man was at least an accessory. That brutal instinct given vent when the crime was committed was still apparent in those already secured in the jail, and they seemed anxious that Valentine should be captured, and from hints let drop by them Cook was enabled to trace the fellow back towards New Mexico.

All of the members of the detective association had been instructed by the chief to keep a sharp lookout for him, and one day it was learned that he was in the vicinity of McCorkle’s ranch, in Costilla county. Thomas T. Bartlett was then sheriff in Costilla county and a member of the detective association, and he was soon on Valentine’s trail. One day the officer found himself near the ranch about the hour of noon. Feeling hungry and fatigued, he determined to visit the house and obtain refreshments for the inner man. While seated at the table a rap was heard on the outer door, and in obedience to the summons “Come in,” who should enter but the very man for whom the officer was in search. The assassin asked for something to eat, and while he was dispatching his dinner the detective engaged him in conversation, and carelessly asked him if he had a pistol. He replied in the affirmative and handed it over for examination. The officer informed him that it was a fine pistol—a very fine pistol, and that he wanted it. Suddenly changing his manner, he added that he also wanted the owner of the weapon.

The startled Italian gazed alternately into the muzzle of the presented revolver and the cool eye of the officer, and saw that the man was terribly in earnest. Realizing that escape was impossible, he surrendered, and while denying that he took any active part in the assassination, he admitted that he was a spectator to that horrible slaughter. He was brought to Denver, where Superintendent Cook met him at the depot, and soon he was behind the bars of the county jail.

CHAPTER X.

So prompt had been the retribution overtaking the band that the popular desire for revenge was in a measure appeased, and all seemed to be confident that the law would effectually dispose of the bloody crew. Before showing how the people were disappointed in this, and prior to relating the means by which these villains escaped the gallows, it would be interesting to visit the jail and, by conversing separately with the prisoners, ascertain so far as possible the manner by which the four victims came to their death. With the exception of Gallotti, they were all willing to talk of the affair.

The jailer leads the way to his cell. A dark-eyed man with the keen, cool, deadly look which only a murderer by birth and education could possess, rises to see who comes as the iron door swings open. He is rather a small man, but has a well-knit, compact frame, and evidently possesses considerable muscular activity and strength. His eyes are small and piercing and have a serpentine look. In this look can be found one of the reasons why he was able to absolutely control the band, to whom he was more than king or czar. Possessing some education, with an unbending will, a heart devoid of pity, a conscience knowing no regret and with those glittering eyes, transfixing the one who had dared to displease him, he was just what his ambition desired—the chief of a desperate band of banditti, whose pastimes were the cutting of throats and whose revels were in scenes of blood. He would not talk at length, but when it was suggested to him that “It is said that you were the leading spirit in that affair,” replied: “I am not. The others did the murder, and now are trying to drag me into it.”