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Updated: April 30, 2025
The silence was terrible, and the feelings of all present were greatly relieved when Bill Bowney placed on the horse, and seeing the rope hauled taught and fastened to a bough by a man in the tree broke into a frenzy of cursing, and displayed the defiant courage peculiar to an animal at bay. "Has the prisoner anything to say?" asked the major, as Bowney stopped for breath.
Be his motives what they might, it is certain that when an unarmed man met Bowney, entered into a discussion with him, and lived verbally to report the same, he was looked upon with considerably more interest than a newly-made Congressman or a ten-thousand-acre farmer was able to inspire.
"I'll answer fur him till we get 'em," said Caney, after the major had written down the names Bowney gave him; "an'," continued Caney, "somebody git the rest of these young uns an' ther mother to my cabin powerful quick. Good Lord, don't I jist wish they wuz boys! I'd adopt the hull family."
Bill Bowney, under favorable circumstances, appeared to be a very homely, lazy, sneaking sort of an individual; but Bill Bowney, covered with dust, his eyes bloodshot, his clothes torn, and his hands and feet tightly bound, had not a single attractive feature about him.
Caney, of Texas, took the child from its mother and carried it to where the moonlight was unobstructed. He looked carefully at its feet, and then shouted: "Bring the prisoner out here." Two men carried Bowney to where Caney was standing, and the whole party, with the woman and remaining children, followed.
Bill Bowney knowed it as well's anybody else, yet he come and stole that hoss. It pawed like thunder, an' woke me up fur 'twas night, an' light as 'tis now an' I seed Bowney a-ridin' him off. 'Twas a sneakin', mean, cowardly trick."
The prisoner hung his head; he would plead guilty to theft and attempt to kill, and defy his captors to do their worst; but when meanness and cowardice were proved against him, he seemed ashamed of himself. "Prisoner virtually admits the charge," said the major, looking critically at Bowney. "Gentlemen," said Caney, late of Texas, "what's the use of wastin' time this way?
No objections were made, and Major Burkess a slight, peaceable, gentlemanly-looking man stepped out of the crowd, and said: "You all know the object of this meeting, gentlemen. The first thing in order is to prove the identity of the prisoner." "Needn't trouble yourself 'bout that," growled the prisoner. "I'm Bill Bowney; an' yer too cowardly to untie me, though ther be a dozen uv yer."
He can save himself by giving the names of his confederates and leaving the State." "I'll tell you who they are?" cried the woman. "God curse yer if yer do!" hissed Bowney from between his teeth. "Better let him be, madam," argued Caney, of Texas. He'd better die like a man than go back on his friends. Might tell us which of 'em was man enough to fetch you and the young uns here?
Yet the subject of the brief conversation repeated above was no other than Bill Bowney, the most industrious and successful of the horse-thieves and "road-agents" that honored the southern portion of California with their presence. Nor did Bowney restrict himself to the duty of redistributing the property of other people.
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