Adventure Magazine, December 10, 1924 — page 162: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

140 Unlike the Montana desperadoes, the Nevada roughs were not formally organized, but when one of them got into trouble, the others were always ready to go to his assist- ance. They provided money to hire good attorneys for his defense, to bribe jurors, and suborn perjured witnesses. If by any chance he happened to be convicted— which was rarely the case—they bent their efforts toward helping him to break jail, and provided means for him to escape from the Territory. And they were always pre- pared to go on the stand and perjure them- selves in his behalf. a the Indian campaign, Brown learned that a brother murderer was about to go to trial at Genoa. Brown had never met the man, but that made no difference. He said he would go and clear him with his testimony. The next morning he rode into Genoa on his big white horse. The stable- hands took good care of the animal. The care of it was none the less sedulous for being gratuitous. They knew better than to ask pay of Sam Brown. From the stable he stalked proudly to the court house. His presence created a sensation. Judge and jurors were visibly uneasy. Spectators jumped out of the second-story windows or got down behind the benches, fearing he might shoot up the place for the mere fun of it. But William M. Stewart (afterward United States Sena- tor) who was assisting the district attorney, produced a revolver and bade him put up his hands, Brown obeyed, Stewart ordered him to the witness-box, and he was sworn. “Now, Mr. Brown,” said Stewart, “you have bragged that you would come here, swear this defendant free, and make the court like it. I am here to tell you that if you make a gun-play or give false testimony I will blow your brains out.”’ Brown knew Stewart as a leader of the Comstock bar and a man of his word. He was willing to take his statement at its face value. Revolver in hand, Stewart went ahead and made Brown admit that he knew noth- ing of the case and that the defendant had a bad reputation. The defendant’s lawyer protested that Stewart was browbeating his witness, but Stewart maintained that he was merely. preventing him from intimidating others, NOT long after his return from Adventure “Do you feel, Mr. Brown,’ inquired Stewart, ‘that you are being intimidated?” That was about the last thing Brown would have cared to admit. He had had enough of that line of examination anyhow, and he provided a diversion by remarking that he was under indictment in Plumas County, California, for assault with a deadly weapon. “T need a lawyer like you,” he told Stewart. ‘Your style just about hits me right. Would you accept a five-hundred- dollar retainer?” “Certainly,” answered Stewart. The court then adjourned, at the request of Brown, and he treated the crowd at the nearest bar. But notwithstanding this expression of amity and good-will, Brown probably did not feel any too good over the way things had turned out. He got his big white horse and started out of town. About three miles from Genoa he drew rein in front of the road-house of Henry Van Sickle, who was sitting on the front porch. “Hello, Van!” was Brown’s greeting. ‘“‘How are your” ‘“‘Tip-top,”’ was the placid reply. are you, Brown?” Van Sickle was a logical, matter-of-fact Dutch rancher who, although he knew much of Sam Brown, considered that as long as he had no business with Brown, Brown could have no business with him. He was mis- taken. “Tip-top, eh?” drawled Brown. you’re feeling too well.”’ And laughing merrily, Brown turned loose on Van Sickle with his six-shooter. At the second shot the astounded Dutch- man, concluding that there had been about enough of that sort of foolishness, made the door in two jumps and bolted into the house. Brown slid from his saddle and followed. Van Sickle ran through the front hallway into the dining-room, and then through the kitchen into the back yard. Brown pursued him as far as the dining- room dcor, where he halted, scanned the faces of the surprized diners, and then, with pistol still cocked and leveled, backed out again. He remounted his horse and re- sumed his ride up the valley. In a little while he overtook another horseman, named Henderson. Henderson was not suffering for the lack of company, but he did not say so to Brown. Nor did “How **Guess CoMmiclhool ) (© 5}