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Albany, the 19th February, 1778. Dear General, Why am I so far from you and what business had the board of war to hurry me through the ice and snow without knowing what I should do, neither what they were doing themselves? Let me begin the journal of my fine and glorious campaign. According to Lord Stirling's advice, I went by Corich-ferry to Ringo's tavern, where Mr.
So it came that young Billy Breckenbridge, whose business was serving warrants and not bothering over the whys and wherefores of their issuance, knocked at the door of John Ringo's cabin in Galeyville a few days later; and then, being a prudent man, stepped to one side where he would be beyond the zone of fire.
Wherefore it came about that when court convened in the morning and the matter of John Ringo's bail was brought up the prisoner was produced to the utter astonishment of all concerned except himself and the man who had allowed him to recover his confiscated revolvers. Within the hour John Ringo walked out of the court-house under bond to insure his appearance at the trial.
John Ringo's pony jogged on and on; the fine dust rose from its hoofs, surrounding animal and rider like a moving wraith of fog, settling down upon their sweating skins in a whitish-gray film which stung like fire. Before them the mirage wavered like an enormous, vague tapestry stirring in a breeze.
To this day they tell how Ringo's passing was the beginning of the end; how Curly Bill vanished soon afterward; how the stage-robbers and rustlers became disorganized and were no longer any match for the law-and-order faction.
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