Chapter D: R. Diffendorffer, merchant in Juarez (4)

He possessed the courage of the soldier and something more. The private soldier goes where he is told to march, and fights when he is ordered, but he has little anxiety or responsibility; but the stage driver in those times had to be as alert and thoughtful as a General. There was not only his duty to his employers but his responsibility for the mails (he was a sworn officer of the Government), but the lives of the passengers often depended upon his knowledge of the country and of the Indian character, and his quick and correct judgment as to what to do in emergencies. Like the sailor, he was something of a fatalist, but he believed in using all possible means to protect himself and those under his charge.

Your stage driver was usually of a serious, almost sad disposition; inclined to be reticent, particularly about himself and his former life, and his surname was seldom mentioned by himself or his associates. He was known as “Bill” or “Dave” or “Bobo” or “Buckskin,” or some such sobriquet. When, however, he could be induced to talk about himself as a stage driver his stories were always interesting and sometimes thrilling. There was occasionally a liar among them, but most of them had really experienced such serious adventures and “hair-breadth scapes” that it was not necessary for them to draw upon their imaginations.

Rough, profane and unclean of speech among their own sex, they were remarkably courteous to lady passengers and ever thoughtful of their comfort and feelings, and more than once, on arriving at a station where the drivers were to be changed, I have heard one whisper to another: “Remember, Sandy, there is a little lady in the coach.” This was sufficient.

During the most interesting portion of this trip we had two drivers, “Uncle Billy,” who was going to San Antonio on leave, and “Bobo,” the regular driver. They vied with each other in trying to make everything pleasant for Mrs. Mills. They would prepare the high driver’s seat with cushions and blankets and assist her to mount it, and for hours would call her attention to points of interest or entertain her with stories of their experiences, humorous or tragic.

One morning just after daybreak Bobo halted the coach and said: “Gentlemen, get your guns ready; the prints of moccasined feet here are as thick as turkey tracks.”

And so it was, and the tracks were fresh. A large party of Indians had very recently crossed the road, but we saw nor heard more about them.

At “Head of Concho” we came upon a herd of buffalo, and, of course, we dismounted and wantonly fired into them, with what effect I do not know, except that some one wounded an immense bull so seriously that he became angry or sullen and refused to run away as the others did. We, with our deadly Winchesters, ceased firing at him, as he was of no use to us, but not so with the young St. Louis lawyer. He wanted to do something that he could tell about at home, and so he advanced upon the irate animal with his little thirty-two calibre pistol, firing as he went. He was encouraged and animated by the shouts of Bobo and Uncle Billy: “Charge him, mister,” “You’ve got him,” “The next shot will fetch him,” etc.

Mrs. Mills said: “Why, Uncle Billy, that animal will kill the man! Call him back!” Uncle Billy said: “Why, _of course_, he’ll kill him. Now you just watch, and you’ll see fine fun. He’ll toss that little lawyer higher’n the top of this coach.” And yet Uncle Billy and Bobo were not cruel men.

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SOME TEXAS LAWYERS.

In 1871 I held a judgment for $50,000 which I had obtained in the El Paso District Court against a citizen of El Paso County for having caused my arrest and imprisonment by the Confederates in 1861, as related in my war story. This judgment being in full force and I being in Austin, my friend, Major De Normandie, then Clerk of the Supreme Court, introduced me to a prominent attorney of De Witt County, Texas, who informed me that the defendant owned property in De Witt County out of which my judgment, or a large portion of it, could be satisfied. I implored this attorney to act for me in De Witt County, and on my return home I sent him, at his request, a certified copy of the judgment and received a letter from him dated June 7th, 1871, informing me that they had written out a levy which they would proceed with in a day or two, and requesting me to send them some money for costs, which I did. After long delay I wrote this attorney, asking to be informed of the result, and he replied that the whole proceeding was a failure because he had dated the levy _on a Sunday_, which mistake vitiated the whole proceeding and that my rights were lost.

He stated that “strange as it might seem” he had been led to make the mistake by an error in an almanac in his office. As this attorney did not suggest any remedy for his own blunder or institute any further proceeding I concluded then, and believe now, that political prejudice or some other unworthy motive had influenced him to act in bad faith with his client. The attorney and the defendant were both Confederates and Democrats, while I was a Union man and a Republican, and much bitter feeling had grown out of the suit and the acts preceding and attending it.

I met this lawyer in Austin a year or so later, and he made no further explanation except to affirm that it “made no difference, because the Supreme Court had decided that my judgment was void.” As a matter of fact, and of record, the Supreme Court had decided that the judgment was valid. And here I will state a fact which I hope the reader will remember when he comes to read the case following this one—_this gentleman was later on elected a Judge of the Supreme Court of Texas_.

My judgment for $50,000 (mentioned in the preceding paragraphs) was in 1868, before the Supreme Court at Austin on writ of error or appeal, or both, taken or claimed to have been taken from the District Court of El Paso County by the defendant. A supersedeas bond for one hundred thousand dollars _damages_, signed by John Hancock and Thomas J. Divine, was filed with the Clerk of the Supreme Court by the appellant’s attorney, whom I will not name here.

When this appeal came on for trial my attorney discovered to his amazement that the words “thousand” and “damages” had been erased on the face of the bond and the words “costs” inserted instead of the word damages.

It is proper to explain to the non-professional reader that this fraud and forgery changed the nature of the bond, so that if I gained the case—and I _did_ gain it—I could recover from the sureties, who were both wealthy men, only one hundred dollars “_costs_,” instead of the full amount of the judgment, namely, fifty thousand dollars “_damages_.” The Judges were, of course, astounded, and called the Clerk, Major de Normandie, who being sworn testified that the record had been borrowed by appellant’s attorney when it was in its original condition, and that when it was returned the erasures and forgery were in the handwriting of said attorney. The guilty attorney was present, but stood mute, offering no explanation or excuse for his acts. The Court, at some length and with strong indignation, rendered its decision dismissing the appeal and leaving my judgment in full force, but the wrong to me had been done, so far as the bond was concerned.

My loss was about forty thousand dollars.

If any one questions any of the above statements he will find abundant proof in the Reports of the Supreme Court of Texas:

Hart vs. Mills, 31st Texas, page 304, and Hart vs. Mills, 38th Texas, pages 513 and 517.

This thing was not done in a corner. Every attorney of that Court knew the facts exactly as I have stated them, and it was a duty they owed to themselves and to the profession to have disbarred the attorney, but he stood fairly well socially and had been a “good” Confederate and Democrat and I was only a frontiersman and Republican, and so _they elected him a Judge of the Supreme Court of Texas_, as had been done with the lawyer in the case mentioned above. I believe there is a legal maxim, or a legal axiom, or a legal _fiction_, that there can be no wrong without a remedy, and I am asked why I did not pursue the remedy. Oh, I don’t know. I suppose every man of affairs has sometimes in his life done or neglected things which he could scarcely explain afterward, even to himself. I was seven hundred miles away, and my attorney was well paid in advance for looking out for my interests, and unless he choose to act I don’t think I could have broken the combination. There are times when even the most energetic men become discouraged and weary of strife, and for a time at least feel like letting things drift as they may.

In 1873 I had a suit pending in court at El Paso involving the title to valuable real estate, and I paid an El Paso attorney $800 to attend to it.

In my absence and without my consent this lawyer compromised me out of court for a worthless consideration, and I lost the property. Of course, I might have repudiated this compromise, but I was handicapped by the fact that the property in question was held in trust for me by my brother, E. A. Mills, and the lawyer had induced him, by claiming to have authority from me, to re-convey the property; and the legal machinery here at that time was such that I thought it hopeless to litigate further.

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LITIGATION ABOUT EL PASO PROPERTY.

When the Confederate forces left El Paso and the United States troops took possession, in 1863, such of the county records as had been preserved from destruction were by common consent delivered to me for safe keeping, to be turned over to the proper county officers as soon as such officers should be appointed or elected. This, and my long residence here, gave me the opportunity of becoming the best informed man in El Paso as to titles, boundaries, possession, etc., so that when the railroads and the boom came and city lots became valuable and there was a general shaking up and deciding of titles by many suits in the courts, I was almost a standing witness. I verily believe that more of these cases were decided upon my testimony than on that of any other half dozen witnesses, and all this testimony was given without receiving or expecting a dollar’s compensation. The juries believed me, and so far as I know not even the most zealous lawyer ever questioned my testimony, though there were some “keen encounters of wits.”

In one instance I saved to a certain litigant property on El Paso street now worth fifty thousand dollars simply by producing an ancient deed which I had had in my possession for twenty-five years and had forgotten. The book, “Record of Deeds,” had been destroyed, but the acknowledgment of the vendor was on the deed itself, and the suit was withdrawn.

I believe that in the main these cases were decided according to law, which was the best that could be done; but if, as we are told, there are certain eternal principles of right and justice, higher than those men make for their own convenience, then surely these principles were sometimes violated, for deserving men lost property which by such principles should have been theirs by such trivial neglect as failing to record a deed or to pay taxes or to preserve evidence of occupancy, or some other fact, or worse still, by false testimony.

CONFISCATION—AN EXPLANATION—NOT AN APOLOGY.

All Governments, including the Southern Confederacy, have written in their statute books that whoever engages in rebellion or takes up arms against their authority shall forfeit not only his property but his life.

I am glad now that my Government did not enforce these harsh penalties against any of the Confederates.

In 1864 the United States District Judge for New Mexico, himself a Southern man, held that his Court had the power to libel and confiscate the real estate of such citizens of El Paso County, Texas, as were then in arms against the United States. He based this claim upon an Act of Congress approved March 3d, 1863, which provided that “The jurisdiction of the United States Court for New Mexico is hereby extended over the citizens of El Paso County only in cases not instituted by indictment.”

I, being Collector of Customs, had caused this act to be passed to enable me to condemn and sell goods smuggled into El Paso County (there being then no United States Courts in Texas). I am frank to say that I did not then even dream of the confiscation of any one’s real estate.

The United States Attorney and Marshal for New Mexico came to El Paso and libeled the property of certain leading Confederates and proceeded against it in the United States Court at Mesilla, New Mexico, and certain of these lands and lots were declared forfeited and were sold at El Paso by the United States Marshal, and I purchased a portion of this property, as did others. I paid the Marshal eighteen hundred dollars good and lawful money therefor, and received and recorded his deeds.

I protected the property of some of my Confederate neighbors, Dowell’s and Stephenson’s and others.

Along with what I purchased was a six-eighths’ interest in the El Paso town tract belonging to the Gillett brothers, who were then absent with the Confederate army; but some years later, when they returned to El Paso and we patched up a peace, I proposed to them that if they would join their title with mine I would pay their debts, amounting to a few thousand dollars, which debts were a lien on the property, and we would hold it share and share alike.

This they declined to do, and in the end they lost it all. So did I, for years later the Supreme Court of the United States decided, _not_ that the property was not subject to forfeiture, as all such property certainly was, but simply that the Act of Congress referred to did not confer the jurisdiction claimed by the Court at Mesilla.

Without a murmur I reconveyed all the property to the original owners and lost the eighteen hundred I had paid the Marshal.

Then the Gillett’s creditors sold them out. I had held possession of the town tract and paid taxes on it for five years.

It has been said that I purchased the property of Simon Hart at the confiscation sale. That is not true. I purchased that property at Sheriff’s sale on a judgment for false imprisonment, which I obtained against Hart in a Texas court, which judgment was twice affirmed by the Supreme Court of Texas.

In 1871 I was the owner of a portion of Franklin Heights, of the city of El Paso, then known as Hart Survey, No. 9.

Being in Washington City I met my friend, Gen. Robert B. Mitchell, and gave him a power of attorney to sell the property. He sold to different purchasers, to the amount of $14,000, and we divided the proceeds share and share alike.

The property was then considered valueless by those who knew less than we did, but it is now worth forty-fold what we received for it. Among the purchasers were George W. Gray of Washington City and one Peck of Kansas, and others.

The recording of the deeds in El Paso County aroused the jealousy and hatred of my El Paso enemies, and, heedless of what harm they might do to others so long as there was a prospect of injuring me, they wrote the purchasers that I had no title to Survey No. 9, that the property was worthless, and that I was a swindler.

It is strange that the purchasers took these statements at par, and instead of investigating or communicating with me they sued me in Washington City for the purchase money, charging fraud, and got service on me there. I demurred them out of court, and came home, and being angry with the purchasers I paid no further attention to them or their troubles.

None of them, ever asserted their rights to the property, WHICH THEY COULD HAVE DONE SUCCESSFULLY IF IN TIME.

These strange facts being of record in El Paso County have caused a lot of talk, and many a lawyer has believed he had made an important discovery and has had visions of profitable litigation. I have been interviewed about this transaction one hundred times, more or less.

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“STAR” MAIL CONTRACTS—THE FIRST TRUST—1869-70.

After the war I and my El Paso friends became involved in a bitter contest with the San Antonio and El Paso Mail Company, which continued for several years.

At that time the great lines of railroads were reaching out toward the west and southwest, and many mail routes, hundreds of miles in length, were preceding them. These mails were carried in stage coaches, buckboards and on horseback. Millions were expended annually by the Government for this service, and it was harvest time for the two wealthy companies who monopolized the larger routes, the above named company in Texas and another company in the northwest.

This Texas company failed year after year to deliver the mails at El Paso according to their contract, and our people were practically without mail facilities, which was a great privation, and the people complained to the Post Office Department but without avail, because the wealthy company had powerful influence with some of its high officials and a strong lobby in Washington City. Then the El Paso merchants and people held an indignation meeting, denounced the company and appointed Col. Jas. A. Zabriskie and myself to represent them at Washington, and after taking much testimony all along the line we went on our mission at our own expense.

After a careful investigation in Washington City, during which we found more rottenness than we had dreamed of, and in higher places than we had suspected, we secured a hearing before the joint committee of Congress on Retrenchment, composed of seven Senators and fourteen Representatives and the contest began.

Zabriskie and Mills for the complainants, “the prosecution,” and the distinguished Judge Pascal of Texas, and the still more distinguished Jere Black of Maryland for the Mail Company, “the defense.” It was a “go as you please” contest. Three days were consumed in reading testimony, in quarreling and in arguments before that distinguished court or jury, and I flatter myself that we youths from the frontier held our own with these veterans of the Washington bar. (At least I am as proud of what I did there as the average young El Paso lawyer is when he wins a cow case against a railroad or makes a free silver speech.) I had recently been “suspended” as Collector at El Paso, and I charged that the Mail Company had employed Pearson & Williams at El Paso as scavengers to hunt for charges against me.

F. P. Sawyer, the principal man of the Mail Company, was present and took the stand and denied this charge, and stated that “out of consideration for others” he had tried to have me retained in office. On cross examination I led him to repeat these statements _most solemnly_, and then handed to Senator Patterson, the Chairman, the original of the following letter, which he read aloud to the committee:

“Washington, June 2d, 1869.

“W. M. Pearson, Esq., El Paso, Texas.

“Dear Sir: Yours of the 10th instant was this A. M. received and already placiet in Secretary Boutwell’s hands to strengthen those already on file in his office which has as I suppose you have hird removed the greatest man in the U. S. as per his own opinion. I think this last affidavit of Mr. Wardwell’s is a clincher. You have done your duty manfilly & have no doubt have done that People of that western county a great and lasting good. I have written you several letters to El Paso suppose you have them all. Yours very truly,

“(Signed) F. P. Sawyer.”

The scene was somewhat dramatic. There was no attempt to deny the authenticity of the letter. I was not in a merciful mood. Never mind what I said. That millionaire perjurer left that committee room weeping like a child.

Colonel Zabriskie’s speech before those potent, grave and reverend Señors was as fine a piece of oratory as one would wish to listen to. Our victory was complete. The unanimous report of the joint committee, dated April, 1870, is before me, but it is too long for publication here and I will condense it conscientiously. They say: “The committee find that in July, 1867, a contract was awarded to E. Bates for carrying a weekly mail between San Antonio and El Paso, Texas, seven hundred miles, for thirty-three thousand dollars a year; and they find that without warrant of law and without giving other bidders any opportunity to compete, this compensation was in eighteen months increased from $33,000 to $333,617! This was done by adding new routes, some of them longer than the original one and running at right angles to it and increasing the number of trips and ‘expediting’ the ‘speed.’ They say: “Charges were made that the service was not perfectly performed and that the contractor had wholly failed to perform his contract, and there is no doubt in the minds of the committee that these charges were substantially true up to the latter part of 1868. It is also charged that the Mail Company had sufficient influence with some of the postmasters to procure from them false certificates of the arrivals of the mails. The committee find that —— ——, postmaster at El Paso, Texas, certified that out of thirty-seven mails due at El Paso for a certain period, only ten ever arrived, and subsequently sent to the Department a certificate stating that all of the thirty-seven mails had arrived on time. For this and other reasons the committee recommend his dismissal. All the evidence concurs that the mails in Texas are so unsafe that no one dare trust money to them.” The report says: “In making these increases of service and compensation the Postoffice Department seems to have given great weight to the representations of Judge Paschel, State Agent of Texas, probably not knowing that he was also the attorney of the Mail Company and himself interested in the contract.” The report says: “It is evident that much feeling exists and powerful influences are interested both for and against the Mail Company.” I know of no “powerful influence” _against_ the Mail Company unless the committee refer to Zabriskie and myself, for we were alone in that contest.

Well, the result was a curtailment of the Mail Company’s compensation by several hundred thousand dollars during the years for which they claimed the contracts, and a saving to the Government of an equal sum, and finally a return to something like fair and honest dealing in letting of such contracts.

While we were making our fight on the Mail Company of the Southwest, as above related, Col. Joe McCibbin was attacking a company who had by the same means monopolized the main routes in the Northwest, and he was trying to expose their frauds. Though acting independently, we sympathized and sometimes consulted with each other, and became fast friends. McCibbin was a man of fine ability, had been a member of Congress from California and in 1856 had been the second to Senator David C. Broderick of that State in the duel with Judge David S. Terry, in which the brilliant Senator was killed. McCibbin bore a striking resemblance to and in his manner was much like my friend, the elder Dr. Samaniego of Juarez. His fight was not concluded when we left Washington, and on my return a year or two later I asked him how it had terminated. He replied: “Oh, I am on the inside. I am the attorney for the Mail Company and am well paid for my services. You and Zabriskie had better get in. You can easily do so, and it don’t pay to fight other people’s battles. You get neither money nor thanks.”

McCibbin then told me that the Mail Company had paid him $20,000 in cash to stop the fight, and were then paying him $10,000 per year as their Washington attorney. I would not state what McCibbin told me had he not later on made the same statement under oath to a committee of Congress and boldly defended his conduct. Did he do wrong? I don’t know. His was a free lance. I sometimes envy the happy ignorance of those who tell me that they always know exactly what is right and wrong.

Yes, Zabriskie and I could have “got in,” but we did not.

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VICTORIO, THE GREAT APACHE GENERAL.

I could fill a book larger than the one I am writing with true stories of Indian raids and fights and massacres and captivities on this frontier, but I refrain.

In my war story I gave an account of one of the most desperate fights, where one who was kin of mine died, fighting bravely but hopelessly, and I will briefly mention here that final “round up” of the hostile savages of this section, the capture of Victorio and his band by the combined troops of our country and Mexico, within forty miles of El Paso, just twenty years ago. I give here an extract from a letter I wrote from El Paso to Mrs. Mills at Austin, dated September 24th, 1880, as follows: “If I had of late jumbled my accounts of Indians and war and politics and killings and adventures and anecdotes all into one letter I might have written one that would have interested all the good people at Fair Oaks, ‘Chicos y Grandes.’ I wrote you from Fort Davis that the Indians were gone. They were gone to the Candelerio Mountains, forty miles south of Quitman, and they are there yet. Since then they have stolen two herds of cattle from Dr. Samaniego, fifty miles from El Paso, killing the herders. Yesterday a small band crossed the river at the Canutilla, sixteen miles above here. Three days ago our troops and friendly Indians crossed here into the land of God and Liberty to concentrate with other forces who crossed below and above, to make a combined attack on Victorio _today_. But the wiley chief may not be there. Considering the number of his braves, he is the greatest commander, white or red, who ever roamed these plains. For more than a year he has out-manoeuvered our officers with six times his number and all the appurtenances of war, and when he has not out-generaled them he has _whipped them_. In sober truth, he is the veriest devil ‘that ere clutched fingers in a captive’s hair.’”

(I regret that neither at the War Department at Washington nor elsewhere have I been able to obtain an official account of the defeat of Victorio’s band. The fight took place at Tres Castillas, southeast of El Paso. Only the Mexican soldiers happened to be in at the death, although our troops rendered valuable assistance on both sides of the boundary line in getting Victorio into a position where he was forced to fight either our troops or the Mexicans. Victorio and a hundred warriors were killed on the field and as many Indians were made prisoners. Col. Juaquin Terrazas of Chihuahua, a brave and skillful Indian fighter, commanded the Mexican troops.)

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THE KILLING OF CLARKE AND WILLIAMS—THE CAUSES—1870.

On a fine autumn day, thirty years ago, on El Paso street, where the Mundy Block now stands, Gaylord J. Clarke and B. F. Williams were shot to death within a few moments of each other and within a few feet of each other.

In order that the reader may understand the causes which led up to these tragedies I will give a brief sketch of the career of each of the four men most directly connected with the quarrel or quarrels and their relation to each other and to the writer. Clarke was a New York man who had been my college chum, and the most intimate friend of my early manhood. At the age of twenty-four he was elected to a _State_ office in New York. Later he had gone to Nebraska in the hope of some day representing that _State_ in the United States Senate. In 1867 he wrote me that he had failed in everything and was destitute. I sent him the means to come to El Paso, gave him an appointment in the Customs House, and later I sent for his wife and child. Clarke was a scholar, a lawyer and at the time of his death was Judge of the El Paso District. He was a Republican.

B. F. Williams came to El Paso about the time that Clarke came. He was also a lawyer, had served in the Confederate army and was a Democrat.

Albert H. French was a Boston man, who had gone to California in his youth and had come to El Paso in 1863 as a Captain of California Volunteers, had married there and was a peace officer of the county.

A. J. Fountain has been mentioned elsewhere in these pages.

The quarrels grew out of an election held about a year previous, in which Clarke and French supported Hamilton for Governor and myself for the Legislature; Fountain and Williams leading the opposition. The county seat was at San Elizario, and the whole county voted there, the election lasting four days, and was held under military supervision. I here show what occurred. Judge French wrote me:

“After the battle, December 4th, 1869.

“Dear Mills: We won the election, but the first night, we having one hundred and forty-three to their forty-eight votes, they opened the box and scratched our one hundred and forty-three votes for themselves. Fountain’s name represents yours on the scratched tickets. I have sworn two hundred and seventy-seven men who voted for you. You got only one hundred and thirty-four as counted. Yours,

French.”

(French was at the time County Judge.)

Clarke wrote me from El Paso, I being at Austin assisting in the management of Hamilton’s campaign:

“Whole number of Hamilton tickets polled, two hundred and seventy-three; number as declared by registrars, one hundred and twenty-two. A majority of our tickets were scratched clear through and changed to Davis candidates. As ever yours,

“Gaylord J. Clarke.”

Lieutenant Verney, who presided over this election, was for other offences dismissed from the army a few years later. Our Legislative District, which had three Representatives, was comprised of a dozen counties and extended from El Paso to the Gulf of Mexico. Col. Nelson Plato of Brownsville and myself were running as Independent Republicans on the Hamilton ticket, and were fairly elected by the people, but the fraud in El Paso County and other places defeated us and gave the seats to those called “Regular Republicans.”

Davis was inaugurated Governor and Fountain was all powerful at the State Capital.

But now trouble began for the victors. Williams believed that by supporting Davis and Fountain and aiding to defeat and otherwise injure me he had earned the Judgeship of the El Paso District, which was at the disposal of Fountain. But Fountain, always inexplicable, had other plans. He conceived an idea that it would be a good move to placate at least one gentleman and at the same time win away from me my friend, and so, to the surprise of everybody, he tendered the Judgeship to Clarke, and it was accepted.

It has been falsely stated that Clarke forsook me for office, but I quote here a brief note from him, written to me _after_ he became Judge:

“Dear William: There are some things I would give much to talk to you about, but dare not write. They concern me closely and you, so far as regards your interests in this valley, but I defer them. When will you return home? Direct your letters for me _under cover_ to D. C. B., Fort Davis. As ever yours, Gaylord.”

The directing of letters “under cover” to mutual friends was to prevent their being stolen by the El Paso postmaster, who was of the Fountain faction.

Williams, by no means a well-balanced man, became furious and desperate at what he claimed to be, and what probably was, bad faith. He was particularly bitter toward Fountain and Clarke. He drank deeply and threatened terribly, and in his ravings declared that he had helped to “down” a better man than either of them.

In this state of mind on the day mentioned Williams went into Dowell’s saloon and fired a pistol shot at close range at Fountain’s left breast. Fountain’s life was saved by his watch and his legs. He ran to Judge Clarke’s house and asked protection and demanded that Williams be immediately arrested. Clarke was a firm believer in “the majesty of the law.” He summoned a posse, consisting of E. A. Mills, John Evans, Johnnie Hale, John Gillett and J. A. Zabriskie, the District Attorney, and went to Williams’ quarters where Williams, being inside, had locked and bolted all the doors. French was there as a policeman. He went to the rear of the house to prevent Williams from escaping that way. Admittance being refused, the posse commenced to batter down the door. Then Williams came out, bare-headed, and leveled his shotgun at Judge Clarke, who stood very near. Clarke did not move, but said two or three times: “Don’t you dare, Williams! Don’t you dare!” Williams fired and Clarke staggered a few steps toward his home, then fell and died in a few moments without speaking. French, hearing the shot, came immediately upon the scene, and finding Williams still armed and running “_amuck_,” shot him twice with his pistol, and Williams died in about an hour.

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THE CARDIS-HOWARD FEUD—THE MOB AT SAN ELEZARIO, 1877.

In 1877 but before the coming of the first railroad to El Paso and when the population had increased but little beyond what it was in the “sixties,” there arose a bitter feud between two remarkable men, Lewis Cardis and Charles H. Howard, which resulted in the killing of both leaders and many other tragedies and agitated the people of the valley as nothing else ever did before or since.

Out of this local trouble evil-minded persons sought to manufacture excitement in Texas and throughout the country about a “war of races,” “organized invasion from Mexico,” and to involve the two countries in war. Cardis was an Italian who had served as an officer in Garibaldi’s army in his youth, and had resided for several years at El Paso as a merchant and contractor, and knew the Spanish language and the Mexican character perfectly. He had been my lieutenant in political affairs during the sixties and early in the seventies he had, with my consent, succeeded me as the friend, adviser and leader of the Mexican people of the valley but was not so successful with the Americans.

Howard had come later from Texas. He was a lawyer and had served in the Confederate army. He was a man of imposing appearance, powerful physique and wonderful determination and courage, or rather recklessness. A friend of mine recently told me that the first time he saw Howard, although he knew nothing about him, _he feared him_. Howard’s chief characteristic was _force_; that of Cardis was persuasion and management—a natural diplomat. Howard was a Democrat, Cardis was a Republican.

I was absent at the Capital of the State during the tragic month of which I am writing, but I knew both the parties well and was well informed of the nature of their quarrels. I had been intimate with Cardis for several years at El Paso. Howard had been my attorney, and I and my wife had once made the journey of eight days and nights from El Paso to Austin with him in the stage coach and he and I had returned to El Paso together in the same way. Besides, during several months preceding the tragedies each of them wrote me several letters complaining of the other, and each invoking my influence with the other. I still retain these letters, and I have before me as I write all the testimony taken by a United States Commission, consisting of Colonels King and Lewis of the regular army, which was appointed to investigate and report upon the _emente_. Howard had located some salt lakes about one hundred miles northeast of El Paso, from which (being on public land) the Mexicans had for many years taken salt free of cost. They were indignant at his action, and some of them threatened to take salt as before, but so far none of them had committed any lawless act. Howard, having influence with the county officials, caused the arrest and imprisonment of two prominent Mexicans at San Elezario for these threats. This was September 10th, 1877. A party of forty or fifty armed Mexicans at San Elezario forcibly released their two countrymen, and in turn arrested Howard and the County Judge, and organizing a Court of their own tried them for wrongs (real or supposed) done to them and their American friends, and possibly might have dealt severely with them had it not been for the intercession of Louis Cardis and the Parish Priest. As it was they extorted from him a promise and bond that he would leave the county never to return. Of course, this was lawlessness, but no more so than defrauding people of an election fairly won, or many other things which are common. Howard then went to New Mexico and “fired the Texas heart” with many telegrams about lawless work, war of races, invasion from Mexico, etc., etc. He charged that Cardis was the chief conspirator and marplot who had created all the trouble and had sought to have him (Howard) assassinated.

Howard called on Governor Hubbard for protection. There was great excitement throughout the State. Howard returned to El Paso and on the 10th of October, 1877, while Louis Cardis was writing a letter in the store of Joseph Schutz, Howard walked in with a shotgun and immediately shot him dead.

Now comes the most strange and pathetic part of this story. The people of San Elezario were threatening to kill Howard if he returned to that village, and the letter which Cardis had just finished and placed in his breast pocket was written to the leaders of that people pleading with them to refrain from all violence toward Howard and all others. This letter was bespattered with Cardis’ blood! I print the letter below, together with some extracts from Cardis’ diary for the few days preceding his death, and also an affidavit of Adolph Krakaner, an eye-witness of the assassination:

“El Paso, Texas, October 10th, 1877.

“Friend Cipriano: The notice having been circulated by telegraph and in the newspapers that our county had risen against the Government and that the same had been invaded by armed people of the Republic of Mexico, General Hatch, commander of troops on this frontier, sent Lieutenant Rucker to investigate whether or not it is true that the property of the United States and the lives of the citizens of the United States are in danger on account of the afore-mentioned invasion, but the lieutenant nor his soldiers have neither the orders nor the wish to molest the citizens of this county, except to investigate the case and make his report to the General.

“The false notices that are in circulation are not worth anything, if the people will continue to do as advised by their friends. Tranquillity and peace and the truth will manifest itself in time. * * * Your friend, in haste,

(Signed) Louis Cardis.

“P. S.—Do not pay any attention to the slanders that you hear against me, and my life. Let the people remain tranquil and we will get justice, and this is what we wish and need no more.