up" and collect the $1,000 reward for him. Johnnie Lynch said that he
did not want to see Service put in irons, and that he thought Service
did no more than was right. "Wan more of those devilish Mexicans out uv
th' way don't hurt nohow," was his comment. "Now, Johnnie," says I, "you
go to my assistant, Mark Shearer, and tell him to tell the wagon driver
that if he undertakes to hand Service over to the authorities at Denver,
that he will kill him." When we got to within five miles of Denver, Mark
Shearer went around to the driver and told him to get back in the wagon,
and if he stuck his head outside that wagon sheet, he would use it for a
target. The driver was a born coward and quietly obeyed and remained
under the wagon sheet until we were forty miles beyond Denver when Mark
told him to "come to" now and try to be a man.

The next night after Service came to our camp, he wanted to help stand
guard over the sheep at night with Barney Hill, my night herder. He said
he couldn't sleep nights. Barney told him to lie down and go to sleep,
that he would let no one harm him. He went to sleep and along about
eleven o'clock, he began to yell, "There they come, there they come, the
Mexicans, etc.," and he fired his revolver and made a general stir. We
managed to quiet him down. He was delirious and only half awake. For two
months Service got along all right.

When we arrived at the North Platte River the snow had melted so the
river was running very fast. We attempted to cross the sheep on the
ferry. 125 sheep were placed on the ferry boat and across we started.
_Out_ 500 feet from the landing on the east side where we went in, the
ferryman got afraid the sheep were too far forward and would tip the
boat, so he attempted to push them back, and pushed some of the sheep
off in the river. All the sheep then made a rush to follow the
unfortunate ones. Barney Hill, who was on the back end of the boat, got