"I wonder if everyone, at some time in his life, hasn't suspected a man had planned to thwart him, only learn when all was done that the one he feared had been striving to help him out," mused the late John Largent, Montana pioneer. He was relating a tale of an experience he had had with Henry Plummer, one-time high sheriff of Montana territory, and commander-in-chief of the road agents who infested the land.
Then the Montana old-timer proceeded to the story of how he and Matt Carroll of Helena carried two canteens packed with gold dust from Alder Gulch to Fort Benton over a bandit-filled trail, with desperadoes who knew they carried the gold, for companions.
Largent met Plummer at Virginia City, along with George Ives, one of his lieutenants, early in December, 1863. Notwithstanding their caution, he and Carroll became well known to Plummer, who seemed to take a liking to them, and cultivated their companionship. They knew they were to be entrusted with a valuable consignment of gold dust to convey back to Fort Benton. What was more, they knew that Plummer was aware of it, too. Realizing the futility of attempting to blind him, they told Plummer when they planned to leave the gulch on the journey, in response to a point-blank question from him.
"On the morning of Dec. 17, 1863, we set out and reached Dempsey's at nightfall," said Largent. "Ives was there ahead of us, and at bedtime Henry Plummer rode up. He said he was looking for a pair of horses that had strayed. We knew he was looking for gold dust. He was put to sleep in the one-room cabin with us. All of us were well armed. We did not doubt that an attack would be made, but thought probably he was waiting until we got further along on the trail before striking.
"In the morning we bade him goodbye, and at night reached Point of Rocks. Plummer was there, hunting for horses. Still he did not tip his hand. I tell you frankly, he had us puzzled. Our next camp was to be Bannack, and we told him of it. He directed us on our road, and told us to sleep at Thompson's store. This we did, and had spread our blankets on the floor when Plummer arrived. He slept on the store counter.
"In the morning he told us that he thought he had passed his horses, and that he would return to Alder. He advised us to camp for the night at the crossing of the Big Hole River. This time we did not follow his advice, but camped in the brush. The following night we came into Deer Lodge. Friends told us that three of the road agents were in town then.
"We pushed on fast for we wanted to make Fort Benton by Christmas. It was cold, but a hard ride brought us to the east side of Mullan pass. The next day we reached Morgan's, where there was a nest of road agents. We executed what we thought was a clever bit of strategy here. I carried both canteens of dust with me, hurried past up Lion's hill, then turned up a coulee we had picked, hid in the brush and secreted myself for the night. Carroll stayed behind and talked to the road agents until I had hidden, then at night he came to me.
"We concluded to make a run for it, and mounting, rode 18 miles to Billy Morris' ranch, where we sought the willows and camped. It was bitter cold. We hovered over a fire and couldn't sleep. We had had no food since breakfast of the previous day, but we pushed on and that night reached the cabin of Little Dog, an Indian chief at Sun River. Here we ate heartily and had a fine night's sleep. In the morning we pushed on to Fort Benton, and arrived there on Christmas Eve, unharmed and with unmolested baggage.
"Henry Plummer was one of the first men we encountered in Fort Benton, and not until then did we learn the secret of his mysterious behavior. That man who was later executed for misdeeds which he had undoubtedly committed, had ridden for hundreds of miles through the coldest kind of weather in order to serve as our protector. He stayed near us along the trail in order to pass the word to his men that we were not to be troubled, nor was our gold to be touched.
"We did our best to avoid him, but looking back on it I can see that our efforts were pitiful at best; we were at his mercy at any stage of the long trail. I never understood just what moved him to this act of sacrifice, which certainly showed a strain of nobility ran through this man, who was chief of the bandits of Montana's gold days."