formed before the jail; an artillery company with a huge brass cannon
halted near it; the cannon was placed directly in front of the jail and
trained upon the gates. I remember how impressive the scene was: the
grim files of infantry; the gleaming brass of the cannon; one closed
carriage within the hollow square; the awful stillness that brooded over
all.

[Illustration: Certificate of Membership, Vigilance Committee, 1856]

Two Vigilance officials went to the door of the jail and informed
Sheriff Scannell that they had come to take Casey with them. Resistance
was now useless; the door of the jail was thrown open to them and they
entered. At their approach Casey begged leave to speak for ten minutes
in his own defense,--he evidently expected to be executed on the
instant. He was assured that he should have a fair trial, and that his
testimony should be deliberately weighed in the balance. This act of an
outraged and disgusted people was one of the calmest, coolest, wisest,
most deliberate on record. Law, order, and justice were at bay. Casey,
under guard, walked quietly to the carriage and entered it. In the jail
at the time was Charles Cora, a man who had murdered United States
Marshal Richardson. He had been tried once; but then the jury
disagreed--as they nearly always agreed to in those barbarous days.
Hanging was almost out of the question. Cora was invited to enter the
carriage with Casey, and the two were driven under military escort to
Fort Gunny Bags.

On the day following, Monday, James King of William died. On Tuesday
Casey was tried by the executive committee. John S. Hittell, the
historian of San Francisco, says: