P a g e 3 G h o s t T o w n s a n d H i s t o r y o f M o n t a n a N e w s l e t t e r named the penalty. Ives was hung. Law and order had achieved a great and everlasting victory; for the first time life and property were rendered safe in these mountains. I have purposely avoided giving the facts and circumstances of the homicide of which Ives was convicted. These are all matters of history. They were demanded by the necessities of the times. The people, in their exercise of their inherent right to the protection of life and property, created them. They served a necessary and noble purpose. When the conditions and circumstances changed, and there was no longer a necessity for their existence, they passed away, leaving behind them a record which entitles them to the everlasting gratitude of the people. The execution did not at once absolutely demoralize and disorganize the lawless element—they were inclined to resent and avenge Ives' death. I can never forget how things looked, and I recall many incidents that occurred in the little town of Nevada that night after Ives was executed. It was after dark when he was hung. The people were standing out in the street and in the cold, talking about the tragic event. They were nearly all armed. The situation looked gloomy. Hard things were said; threats were made. It looked as if a spark might create an explosion. One incident that occurred to me deserves mention, I think, in the history of that day. I was standing on the street talking to someone, when I heard a man who was standing in the middle of the street, say, with a hideous oath, "Let's take him back of the house and kill him." This, of course, attracted my attention and excited my curiosity to know who was to be the victim of this man's wrath. There were three men in a knot whence came the dreadful threat. Immediately one of the three said, "Yonder he stands now." One of them said, "I will call him," and at once he called Colonel Sanders. Sanders' Close Call In going to the men, Colonel Sanders had to pass near where I stood. I at once went to meet him. I told him what I had heard and advised him not to go behind the houses with the men. He said, "I guess they won't kill me." He insisted upon going with them, then I asked him if he was armed. He said he was. I then said, "If you will go, I shall go too." He then walked to the three men. One of them said, "We want to see you back here." They crossed the street, one man leading the way, Colonel Sanders following him, the other two and I following them between the log houses which were built a little apart. in his early twenties, served as prosecutor in the miners’ court which convicted George Ives the highwayman. It was Sanders who, when the jury of miners had brought in a verdict of guilty, moved, “That the sheriff be instructed to hang George Ives, forthwith, by the neck until dead,” and a few moments later one of the most notorious of Plummer’s men had paid on the gallows for his numerous crimes. Colonel Wilbur F. Sanders, one of the foremost of early day Montanans, who, when
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