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Updated: June 23, 2025
Hobbling their horses, after taking the saddles from them, they allowed them to graze at will, and the party busied themselves in collecting wood for a fire. A few sheep which had escaped from some ranch were grazing near the spot, and Moriarity, who had his Winchester, dropped one by a well- directed ball back of the shoulder.
That man, Moriarity, is a noted liar." "Ah!" said Mr. Pinkerton, quickly, "you know Moriarity?" "That is I mean yes, I sort of know him," stammered Wittrock, in confusion; "I have heard of him." "You are in desperate straits, Mr. Wittrock," said the detective. "In such desperate straits that you are doing the worst possible thing denying all that is proved true.
A full and detailed recital of all that occurred was given him by his subordinates, who then put the case in his hands. "Boys," he said, "we must get one of these men, either Cook or Moriarity, to squeal." "They are both afraid of Jim Cummings, I can see that in every word they speak," said Chip, "they would rather go to Jefferson City than to turn State's evidence."
Jim Cummings and Dan Moriarity were of the number. Thick clouds of tobacco smoke curled and eddied to the low ceiling, and seated near the fire to get the benefit of the light were a couple of card-playing ranchmen, indulging in a game of California Jack. Standing with his back to the blaze, his feet spread apart, and his hands deep in his pockets, stood the owner of the ranche Swanson.
As was before remarked, Moriarity possessed a certain amount of bull courage, and seeing he was in for it, and feeling that he was to be put through the sweating process he sat erect in his chair, his lips compressed and his whole demeanor that of a cornered man determined to fight. Mr. Pinkerton saw that and with courteous suavity inquired, "Is this Mr. Moriarity?"
It was not very long before the noise of carriage wheels were heard, and Moriarity running out on the ice assisted Cummings in carrying Chip to the land and placed him in the carriage, which he had caught on the way to town.
Moriarity had brought two of the bags which the Doctor had placed on his own and Scip's horse and had gone back for the third, when the door from the inner hall opened, and, his tangled hair hanging in mats over his eyes, his clothing disarranged, his face purple with rage and a revolver in each hand, Swanson appeared before the surprised robbers.
As the policeman marched his prisoner away, Mrs. Moriarity turned to William, who was trying to comfort the little Moriaritys, for those who had not been hurt were crying as lustily from fear and sympathy as those who had. In the short struggle with the man William's face had received a buffet that had re-opened one of the scratches, and this was now bleeding somewhat freely.
Dan applied his eye to the opening and in surprised tones exclaimed, "By God, it IS Jim." He again looked and clinching his fist pounded on the door. "Jim! Jim!" he cried. "They got you at " "Here, none of that," said the bailiff in a gruff tone. "None of that, I say," and taking Dan by the arm he marched him back to the office. "You see, Mr. Moriarity, I told the truth," said Mr.
Still later, you, Cook and Moriarity took refuge at Swanson's ranche in the Indian Territory, and after attempting to rob your host, which attempt was frustrated by my men, you came, in some roundabout way, to Chicago, where you put up at the Commercial Hotel, disguised by a false mustache. Every evening you went to West Lake street, and last night you were arrested. Now, Mr.
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