The prisoners had thus far been docile and I did
not think it necessary to hobble them. They slept inside, and it was
arranged that some one was to be constantly on guard. About one o'clock
in the morning it began snowing. Shortly before three, Jack Farley, who
was on guard, and sitting at the foot of the bed with his back to the
prisoners, was kicked into the fire by Williams. The next instant
Bevins, who had got hold of his shoes, sprang up, jumped over the fire,
and started away on the run.
As soon as I was enough awake to comprehend what was going on I sent a
shot after him. Williams attempted to follow Bevins, but as he did so I
knocked him down with the butt of my revolver. Farley had by this time
got out of the fire. Green had started after Bevins, firing at him as
he ran, but the thief made his escape into the brush.
In his flight, unfortunately for him, he dropped one of his shoes.
Leaving Williams in charge of Farley and "Long Doc," the man with the
pack mule, Green and I struck out for Bevins. We heard him breaking
through the brush, but, knowing it would be useless to try to follow
him on foot, we went back and saddled two of the fastest horses. At
daylight we struck out on his trail, which was plainly visible in the
snow.
Though he had an hour and a half's start his track lay through a
country covered with prickly pear.
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