Slade was frequently arrested by order of the court whose organization we have described, and had treated it with respect by paying one or two fines and promising to pay the rest when he had money; but in the transaction that occurred at this crisis, he forgot even this caution, and goaded by passion and the hatred of restraint, he sprang into the embrace of death.

Slade had been drunk and “cutting up” all night.  He and his companions had made the town a perfect hell.  In the morning, J. M. Fox, the sheriff, met him, arrested him, took him into court and commenced reading a warrant that he had for his arrest, by way of arraignment.  He became uncontrollably furious, and seizing the writ, he tore it up, threw it on the ground and stamped upon it.

The clicking of the locks of his companions’ revolvers was instantly heard, and a crisis was expected.  The sheriff did not attempt his retention; but being at least as prudent as he was valiant, he succumbed, leaving Slade the master of the situation and the conqueror and ruler of the courts, law and law-makers.  This was a declaration of war, and was so accepted.  The Vigilance Committee now felt that the question of social order and the preponderance of the law-abiding citizens had then and there to be decided.  They knew the character of Slade, and they were well aware that they must submit to his rule without murmur, or else that he must be dealt with in such fashion as would prevent his being able to wreak his vengeance on the committee, who could never have hoped to live in the Territory secure from outrage or death, and who could never leave it without encountering his friend, whom his victory would have emboldened and stimulated to a pitch that would have rendered them reckless of consequences.  The day previous he had ridden into Dorris’s store, and on being requested to leave, he drew his revolver and threatened to kill the gentleman who spoke to him.  Another saloon he had led his horse into, and buying a bottle of wine, he tried to make the animal drink it.  This was not considered an uncommon performance, as he had often entered saloons and commenced firing at the lamps, causing a wild stampede.

A leading member of the committee met Slade, and informed him in the quiet, earnest manner of one who feels the importance of what he is saying:  “Slade, get your horse at once, and go home, or there will be ——­ to pay.”  Slade started and took a long look, with his dark and piercing eyes, at the gentleman.  “What do you mean?” said he.  “You have no right to ask me what I mean,” was the quiet reply, “get your horse at once, and remember what I tell you.”  After a short pause he promised to do so, and actually got into the saddle; but, being still intoxicated, he began calling aloud to one after another of his friends, and at last seemed to have forgotten the warning he had received and