"Oh yes," said he, "in the course of eight or ten years I will be able to get out once more.""What became of the tramps that came so near being compelled to suffer the penalty of your crime?""They were released as soon as I was arrested, a snug little sum of money was raised for them, a new suit of clothes purchased, and they went on their way rejoicing, thinking themselves creatures of luck."As we sat together in a secluded place in the mines, with the faint light of my miner's lamp falling on his hideous face, the cool, deliberate manner in which he related his atrocious doings, the fiendish spirit he displayed, led me to regard him as one among the most debased and hardened criminals I had met in the mines--a human being utterly devoid of moral nature--a very devil in the form of man!
A NOTED COUNTERFEITER
One of my companions in the mines, and with whom I worked a couple of weeks, lying almost side by side with him as we dug coal in the same room, was a noted counterfeiter. He had plied his trade for many years successfully. Whisky finally sent him to the penitentiary. If professional criminals would only let strong drink alone not half so many of them would get caught. They get drunk, and in this condition expose themselves. We don't mean to use this as an argument against the prohibitory law! It is, perhaps, proper for them to drink. This counterfeiter makes his dies out of plaster paris. They are very simple and easy ofconstruction. He explained to me the manner in which they were made. I would give his method of making these dies were it not for the fact that some smart boy getting hold of this book and learning the method would undertake the business, and as a result his good old mother would be going to the penitentiary to visit him. When this counterfeiter would run short of funds he would purchase the necessary material, go into the woods on a dark night, and in a very short time would have plenty of bogus money. He taught the trade to his brother and to some bosom friends, and it was not long until they had a regular organized gang. Getting drunk one day one of them displayed too many shining new pieces of money. He was "spotted." A detective was put on his track. He was traced to the headquarters of the gang, and in a few hours thereafter the entire posse were locked up in jail on a charge of counterfeiting and passing "bogus money." They now formed plans for their escape from jail. They adopted the plan of seizing the jailor, as he brought in supper, thrusting him into a cell, locking him in, and then making good their escape. They made the attempt. The jailor was locked in the cell according to the programme, but so much noise was made in the struggle that the sheriff put in an appearance with a loaded revolver. The prisoners made a dash for liberty. A brother of my informant was killed; another of the gang was wounded and dragged back into his cell in the jail; the others got away. It was in the winter time. The succeeding night was extremely cold. Wandering about all night in the snow, their feet were frozen, and they were easily recaptured the next day. They had their trial, and all were sent to the penitentiary. They got eight years apiece, three for counterfeiting and five for breaking jail. In this manner was broken up one of the worst counterfeit gangs of the West. Whisky has trapped many a criminal. There are but very few that do not "indulge." In fact, I cannot now recall a single professional criminal but would take a drop if he could get it. They must have whisky to nerve them for their iniquitous business. When the crime is committed they drink again to soothe their wounded consciences."YELLOW BACK LITERATURE
A boy was brought into the hospital one day while I was there, whose history is worth relating, as it shows the fatal effects of bad literature uponthe human mind, and to what sad results it may lead. This youth had become suddenly ill in the mines, and had to be assisted from his place of work to the ward for the sick. He was very ill for several days, but began to grow convalescent. An opportunity presenting itself, I got into conversation with him, and he told me the history of his crime. He was an orphan. At the death of both his parents in the East he had come to Kansas to make his home with an uncle. This relative was very kind, and after a time adopted the boy. He had a pleasant home, and his prospects for the future were bright. How often is it the case that the sky of the future becomes overcast. This young criminal was a constant reader of the Life of Jesse James, and kindred literature, until he made up his mind to go on the "war path" and become Jesse James No. 2. With this in view, he provided himself with two large revolvers. One night, after all the household had retired, he crept stealthily into the bed-room of one of the hired men and stole seventy dollars. He goes to the barn and takes one of his uncle's horses and starts for the Indian Territory. The uncle was awakened an hour later on account of some unusual sound at the barn, and going thither discovered that one of his best horses was gone, and also that his nephew was away. He got together several of his neighbors and started in pursuit, and the next day, about noon, the youthful thief was overtaken and surrounded. The uncle rode up to him and began to question him as to his strange conduct, when the boy drew one of his revolvers, and, pointing at his uncle, shot him dead. He was going to play Jesse James to the last. When he saw his uncle fall dead from his horse, now realizing what he had done, the bravado spirit forsook him, and he began to quake with fear. The neighbors closed in upon him and soon took his firearms from him. In due time he had his trial and was sent to the penitentiary for life.
Bad books are our worst companions. I have narrated the history of this young murderer, and now urge my boy readers to let yellow back literature alone. It wrecked the future of this youth, and what it did for one it may do for another.
A YOUTHFUL MURDERER
