“I’ve had enough,” said Rumsey, declining to drink more.
“Take another, take another,” said Helm. “It’s good to keep the cold out.”
“Not another drop,” replied Rumsey. “I know my gauge on the liquor question, and never go beyond it.”
“You _shall_ drink again,” said Helm, with an oath, casting a malicious glance at Rumsey.
“I _won’t_ drink again,” was the immediate reply, “and no man can make me.”
“No man can refuse to drink with me and live,” replied Helm, seizing his revolver as if to draw it.
Rumsey was too quick for him. Before the desperado could draw his pistol, Rumsey had his levelled at his head. Addressing him in a calm, steady tone, he said,
“Don’t draw your pistol, or I’ll shoot you, sure.”
The men gazed sternly upon each other for a minute or more, Helm finally loosing his grasp of his pistol, and saying,
“Well, you’re the first man that ever looked me down. Let’s be friends.”
The courage of Rumsey inspired the robber with a respect for him which probably saved his life, as no further molestation was offered him on his way to Virginia City.
Percy was the proprietor of a bowling alley in Bannack. The roughs, in frequenting his saloon, would leave their horses standing outside the door; and he had so often seen the animals and accoutrements of each, that he easily recognized the robbers by their horses and saddles. When the coach arrived, Percy saw Frank Parish take Henry Plummer to one side, and engage in conversation with him. In a few minutes, Plummer came to Percy, and asked him; if he knew the robbers. Percy replied,
“No; and if I did, I’d not be such a fool as to tell who they were.”
Plummer tapped him on the shoulder, and replied,
“You stick to that, Percy, and you’ll be all right. There are about seventy-five of the worst desperadoes ever known on the west side of the mountains, in the country, in a band, and I know who they are.”
Bunton, after this robbery, used occasionally to accost Percy in a playful manner, with such language as, “Throw up your hands”; or, “We were fools to be robbed, weren’t we?” Percy, knowing that Bunton was one of the gang, soon tired of this; and one day at a race-course, when thus saluted, remarked, with unmistakable displeasure,
The words were scarcely uttered, when Bunton raised his pistol and fired at him. The ball grazed Percy’s ear. Jason Luce, a driver of Mr. Oliver’s express, stepped up and said to Bunton,