LET 'ER BUCK 



up the scene, and before they could awaken from their 

 deep slumber, the two sleepers in no uncertain manner 

 were roughly jerked to their feet. There stood Owens 

 and Hart. 



"Search 'em," and as they went thoroughly and 

 quickly through the captives a big gun slipped from 

 Owens' holster and fell to the ground. With the quick- 

 ness of a cat he reached for it, and as he stooped over 

 to seize it he ran plumb against a rifle which one of 

 the possemen jammed square in his face. 



"Move another inch and I'll shoot you dead in 

 your tracks," he threatened. 



"To hell with you; shoot and be damned," mutter- 

 ed Owens but shoved "hands up" as the gun came into 

 play. 



Half-starved and exhausted from their flight over 

 the mountains, cheeks sunken from loss of food and 

 sleep, feet bruised and blistered from six days of cease- 

 less hiking, the two were then with scant ceremony 

 bound together hand and foot. 



Thus, after six days of trailing foot-prints and fol- 

 lowing with bloodhounds over some of the roughest 

 kind of country, the two most desperate of the quin- 

 tette were caught like rats in a trap, in a lone sheep- 

 herder's cabin six miles east of Toll Gate on the top 

 of the Blue Mountains. The pair were taken to the 

 Union County jail in LaGrande, again within the 

 clutch of the law. 



Shortly after, Til's brother, "Jinks" Taylor, now 

 acting as sheriff, arrived in LaGrande and gave Sheriff 

 Lee Warnack a receipt for the "live bodies" of Owens 

 and Hart, who were immediately bundled into the ton- 

 neau of a high-power machine and the car made for 

 Pendleton. 



52 



