Life and adventures of Frank and Jesse James, the noted western outlaws

The crowd saw all this at a glance. The dead and the wounded in the shanty did not include any of the strangers. The crowd yelled for vengeance on the authors of the bloody tragedy. There was a shout that awakened the mountain echoes for miles around, as the infuriated pioneers and gamblers surged out of the shanty.

Meanwhile the Jameses and their friends had retired a short distance from the place to ascertain the extent of the injuries they had received in the melee. It was a cloudless night and the stars shone brightly. The leaders of the mob soon discovered the four Missourians, and ran, yelling, toward them.

"Back, you d—d miscreants! Stand back, I say!" cried Jesse James.

But they rushed forward at the top of their speed.

"Boys, we are in for it," said Jesse, quietly. "All right, be ready." Then he shouted:

"Come on, d—n you! Just come ahead and be killed!" He had no more than ceased speaking when they had approached near enough to open fire.

"Wait, boys! Steady! Every shot must tell! Now!" And as the sound of the last word died away, there was the report of four pistols, almost simultaneously discharged, and four men fell badly wounded; once more the four deadly pistols were discharged, and two more of the howling mob sank down in their tracks. The others paused. But they gave the Missourians a parting salute as the latter moved rapidly away. That salute seriously wounded one of the friends of the Jameses, and carried away a portion of Jesse's hat brim. But they escaped, aided by the night, and hastily returned to Winnemucca. Here they learned that intelligence of the terrible dark seance at Battle Mountain had preceded them, and that it was not a safe place. Aided by friends, they remained in seclusion a few days, waiting an opportunity to get away. During these days of retirement they made up their minds to return to the States east of the mountains, and when they met a favorable opportunity they embraced it, and in another week after their departure they were secure among friends near their old haunts in Missouri, ready to plan still more startling campaigns than any which they had yet undertaken.

Were the James boys driven to outlawry?

A strange question, no doubt, many readers will think, in the light of the history of their lives. And yet it is a pertinent question, when we consider the tendency of the human mind and conscience to deteriorate under the pressure of circumstances. Environments have much to do in molding character. Perhaps there is not as wide a space between the natural characteristics of mind and heart in boys of eight as is generally supposed. But philosophizing aside. Are there not mitigating circumstances in the case of the James boys? We do not undertake to defend them—their course is indefensible; we cannot apologize for them; for outlawry cannot be palliated. But let justice be done even to these renowned outlaws. Though sinners, have they not been sinned against? Though slayers of men, have they had no provocation? Let facts speak.

When the banner, beloved by the Southern people, whether wisely or unwisely, it matters not, was folded away forever at Appomattox, that event brought peace and repose to hundreds, nay, thousands of grim, worn soldiers who had bravely striven to uphold the ensign they loved so well. The war ended for them, never to be commenced again.

But all along the bloody borderland there existed a distinctly different condition of affairs. The warfare was that of community against community, of neighbor against neighbor, and of relative against relative. Cole Younger, the Guerrilla, engaged in mortal combat with Charles Younger, the Union militia officer; it was kindred blood that strove. In such a warfare the common ties of humanity are severed, and fury and hate come in where love and friendship have expired. Such was the situation in Missouri. The dissolution of the Confederate Government did not restore peace in such communities. The quarrel was no longer political, and for principle, but personal, and for vengeance. For others there might be peace, but for contestants in such a strife there was no peace.

If Jesse James took vengeance on Bond, it must be remembered that in the dreadful days of the bitter border war, Bond had gone with his band of militia to the Samuels' place, taken Dr. Samuels, Jesse's step-father, out, and hanged him by the neck until they supposed he was dead, and left him there while they went to find Jesse, who was plowing in the field. He was but a lad then. But they took him, tied him like a felon, and castigated him like a slave with a plow line, until faint from loss of blood and crazed from the agony of the infliction, he fell in a swoon—a mere quivering mass of flesh and blood. Jesse James was like other youthful human beings. Could he then forget such treatment? Was it not natural that he should seek vengeance? And the hour came; the tormentor fell into his hands; the strong passion overcame the young man, and he slew his enemy. And so, too, with Banes and others who fell victims to his relentless purpose. They met a fate at the hands of the boys which, perhaps, better men than the Jameses would have connived at under similar circumstances. Thus, during the long, dark struggle, old scores were paid, but at the same time new causes of offense were given.

The regularly organized armies of the late contending sections had been disbanded, and peace ostensibly reigned in the land. But old wounds had not healed along the border. There were malignant stars in the zenith of the Guerrillas. Hope animated them for a space. They sought their childhood's homes. Doubtless they loved the scenes familiar to them in the old days, before they had learned to be slayers of men, as well as others of the race do that anchor-spot of memory. But the bright gleam of hope faded; the clouds of anguish overspread their sky. The lurid lightning of the old bitterness flashed athwart their heavens, and the ex-Guerrillas were pursued and hunted, like felons, beyond the pale of hope or pardon.

The resources of the James family had been impaired, absorbed, wasted, in the crucial time of strife. But they were not permitted to make a peaceful effort to build up and restore wasted fortunes. Harassed on every hand, these boys, who were naturally of a strong temperament, and perhaps of revengeful natures, were yet mere boys who had learned to be self-reliant; impatient of restraint, bold in action, and acquainted with the art of slaughter, turned upon their hunters and revealed the desperate character of the game they pursued. They were not left in peace after the light of peace blessed the land and made glad other hearts; and they would have been more than human not to have undertaken their own protection under such circumstances. If others attempted to murder them, they did not hesitate to slay. So their lives have become lurid with slaughter.

It must be remembered that we are not attempting to justify such a line of conduct; but there are many things in connection with human affairs that cannot be defended. We look at things as they are, and not as they ought to be. Doubtless, it will be admitted on all hands that the James boys ought not to have led such a wild career of outlawry; that they ought not to have entered upon such a course of action; and finally it will be urged that it would have been far better for them, and everything and everybody connected with them, to have quietly yielded to the inevitable, and voluntarily exiled themselves forever from the scenes of childhood and all the dear associations of their tenderer and more hopeful youth. Certainly, it would have been best for them. But such a course would have been contrary to the world's experience of human nature.

So when vigilance committees were hanging their comrades who had been with them by the camp fires in the deep forests, and in many a bloody foray; and when armed men, fours and sixes, hunted for them; when repose was banished from their home, and the phantom shadow of death peered out at them from every forest thicket, and from the sombre shades of the silent night, these boys rose up in rebellion against that society which refused to own them, and that order which organized the cohorts of vengeance. Jesse W. and Frank James, the terrible Guerrillas of the war-time, were henceforth to "become enemies of every man," or at least outlaws from society, and free companions of the highways. It might have been different with them. But the long, lingering fires of hate burned after the lurid days of slaughter, and they were not the persons to refuse the gauntlet when thrown at their feet. Never too good by nature, circumstances have made them desperate, and hence, after concluding their bloody Guerrilla record, we proceed with their history as outlaws and highwaymen of the most remarkable character of any known in the annals of history.

The sudden appearance among the people of a peaceful community of a band of armed men, who whoop like savages, fire off pistols, swear fearful oaths, and issue sharp commands, is calculated to produce a feeling of terror, and, for a time at least, to paralyze the energies of men. By pursuing this kind of tactics, the band of robbers which commenced at Russellville, Kentucky, in 1868, and concluded their last exploit at Glendale, in the fall of 1879, have uniformly, with one single exception, been able to accomplish their work and make good their escape.

The 16th day of December, 1869, will not be soon forgotten by the citizens of the flourishing little city of Gallatin, Daviess county, Missouri, because of an incident which created a thrill of excitement that extended all over the land. Daylight bank robberies were not events of frequent occurrence until these later times. The affair at Russellville had taken place many months before, and it was thought altogether unlikely that such another audacious robbery would be soon attempted.

After the Russellville affair, it was known Jesse and Frank James had made a journey to California, and it was not until late in the fall that they returned. It was supposed that only the Youngers and Jameses were capable of doing such deeds, and it was not known that the Boys were at home by any considerable number of people.

Such conclusions as these proved to be fallacious. On the day named—a gray, cold December day—the people of Gallatin were suddenly startled by the presence, in the streets of the place, of a band of armed men, who rode furiously, shouted loudly, and swore fiercely at the people, commanding them, in sharp, decisive tones, to get inside their houses and stay within their own domicils. While a part of the band remained out in the streets, two of the robbers rushed into the bank. The cashier, Captain John W. Sheets, was behind the counter. He was instantly covered by a pistol, and imperiously commanded to be still. The other robber proceeded to secure the contents of the safe, placed the bank's assets in a sack, and walking to the cashier, he placed the muzzle of a pistol almost against his temple, and fired, the bullet crashing through the brain, and the unfortunate gentleman fell dead at the foot of his slayer. The robbers regained their horses, mounted, and the whole gang rode rapidly away.

The citizens of Gallatin had seen them come and go. They did not remain long. The whole affair was the work of a few moments. They soon realized what had been done, and then there was mounting in hot haste, and almost as quickly as the robbers had come and gone, a well-armed posse was riding after them in hot pursuit.

Captain John W. Sheets, the murdered cashier of the Gallatin bank, served as a captain in the Missouri militia, and had often met parties of Guerrillas in combat during the war. He was much esteemed, and his wanton assassination created a profound sensation, and a strong desire to capture his slayers was manifested throughout the community. The whole country was aroused. Daviess county had sent many men to the ranks of the militia, and somehow the impression rapidly went abroad that the robbery had been committed by the James Boys and their old associates among the Guerrillas. It stimulated them to greater exertions in the pursuit. The robbers obtained the start, and the men who had ridden with Quantrell never made a reconnoissance on indifferent steeds. Besides, no dashing cavaliers knew better how to ride than they. It was an exciting chase. The people of Gallatin had been taken by surprise. The startling suddenness of the appearance of the robbers; their matter-of-fact attention to the business in hand, and the terrible tragedy which concluded the drama, were well calculated to create surprise, not to say astonishment.

The robbers were trailed directly toward Clay county. The Gallatin posse, after a hot chase, came up with the fleeing bandits. The latter turned upon their pursuers in so determined a way that they were compelled to call a halt, and retreat to meet reinforcements. This gave the robbers time. They continued to retire toward the Clay county line. It was not difficult to trace them into that county. But after they had once penetrated well into the territory of Clay, all traces faded out. No one had seen such a band of men or any other gang like them, and all efforts to discover their retreat proved abortive. They disappeared—like the picture thrown out by the magic lantern when the slide is withdrawn suddenly and broken—at once and forever.

Hearing that they were accused of the robbery, the James Boys, who were then at home, mounted their horses and rode to Kearney to file their protest against the accusation. Their manner convinced the citizens—that it might be dangerous to insist upon the allegation that they were the Gallatin robbers.

It was given out, in extenuation of the shooting of Captain Sheets, that the person who did it believed him to be Lieut. Cox, who, it is said, claimed to have killed Bill Anderson, when that noted Guerrilla was attempting to force the passage of the Missouri river in the face of a superior force of Federal troops. The murder of the cashier has yet to be avenged. Not a dollar of the money has been recovered up to this time.

After Gallatin, the situation of the boys became perilous, for although their denials and the affidavits which they were able to procure, served to convince their friends that they were not at Gallatin; still the conviction had grown and deepened that they were concerned in the robbery, and that they had aided and abetted those who committed the crime, even if they were not present in person. Immediately after the perpetration of the outrage, Jesse W. James wrote a letter on behalf of himself and his brother Frank, offering to surrender to the officers of the law and submit to a trial, on condition that the Governor should guarantee them against the chances of mob violence and lynch law in Daviess county.

After examining all the papers in the case, and the facts submitted to him, Governor McClurg declared that he did not believe the boys had anything to do with the robbery, and was fully convinced that they could not have been personally concerned in it. This had the effect of quieting the suspicions of many persons, but there were others who still cherished the opinion that they were the instigators of the robbery, and had aided the perpetrators in concealing themselves, and had doubtless shared with them the booty which they had secured. In subsequent years this opinion grew into a conviction, and now many believe that it was Frank James' pistol which proved fatal to Captain Sheets.

Be this as it may, the people of Daviess county were aroused, and many of the citizens of Clay county also, indeed all Northwest Missouri was excited. This led to a systematic and persistent attempt to arrest Frank and Jesse James, the generally recognized leaders of the lawless elements of the State.

Among those who firmly believed in the guilt of the James boys, was Captain John Thomason, of Clay county, Missouri, a citizen well known and highly esteemed by the people of the county. Captain Thomason had served during the war on the Confederate side, and was known as a man of unimpeachable courage. The war over, he returned to his home, and settled down to peaceful pursuits, with an earnest zeal to repair the losses sustained during the war. He had been sheriff of Clay county at one time, and was an outspoken friend of submission to law. He disapproved of the conduct of the James boys, and believed that they ought to be arrested and tried for their misdeeds.

So believing, he had the courage to act. Soon after the Gallatin robbery, Captain Thomason placed himself at the head of a posse of resolute men, and started out to execute his purpose—the arrest of the Jameses. These men have never yet been caught unprepared—they cannot be surprised. They were aware of Thomason's purposes, they knew the feelings which he entertained for them, and they were ready to meet him. That meeting took place near the Samuels residence in Clay county. Thomason demanded their surrender. They laughed at the idea. Then firing commenced. The affray lasted but a few minutes. Several shots were fired, and by one of them Captain Thomason's horse was killed. The other members of the party did not care to press upon men so daring, and Frank and Jesse rode away scathless, and Captain Thomason had to regret the loss of a valuable horse.

But this little episode did not deter the Captain from freely expressing his opinion about the boys and those concerned with them. He had no admiration for the womanly qualities of their mother, and expressed himself in language much more forcible than elegant in regard to her.

Some of his harsh sayings about her came to the hearing of Mrs. Samuels. She was much incensed against him on this account, and concluded to see him about it. It was ten miles from her residence to Captain Thomason's house; but she mounted a horse and rode the distance. She entered the house. The family was dining, and not the slightest attention was paid to her. She went up to where Captain Thomason was seated, and said:

"Captain Thomason, I understand that you have called me a——!"

"Yes, I did," replied the sturdy farmer, "and I want you to understand that if ever I, or any of mine, are injured by you or yours, in the least thing, I swear before heaven and earth that there shall not be a stone left of your house."

"Indeed!" was all the reply she made.

"If any killing is to be done," pursued the Captain, "it will be well for you to kill all my family, and leave none to avenge the injury."

Mrs. Samuels saw that Captain Thomason was in earnest, and that no compromise or apology could be extorted, and she took her departure.

The efforts of Captain Thomason were not all that were made for arresting the James boys about the time of the Gallatin tragedy. The Daviess county officials hunted them. Detectives from Chicago and St. Louis tracked them and sought an opportunity to entrap them. But these shrewd men were not so to be caught. All attempts to capture them proved abortive.

The James Boys were good travelers, and did not confine themselves to narrow limits. One week they might be in Clay county, Missouri, and the next in Nelson, or Logan, or Jessamine county, Kentucky, and then in five days more or less they would be in New York City, and in another week they might be found in Texas far toward the Mexican border. The Boys understood the advantages of rapid movements. When they had "business" on hand, they never appeared in the vicinity of the scene of their intended operation. Only one or two of their most trusted friends, under any circumstances, were allowed to know anything of their presence in the vicinity. When going to commit a robbery in a strange place, the utmost caution was used to keep down even the suspicion that anything was wrong. Thus it was with the band at Russellville, and at Gallatin, Mo. No one had seen them or even heard of any suspicious characters around. In both cases the first intimation the citizens had of the presence of banditti in their streets was the reports of fire-arms and the shouts of the dashing robbers as they thundered along the highways. They appeared as suddenly as a meteor, and departed as quickly as an apparition. Such were their tactics at Northfield, where the Jameses are known to have taken part in the attempt to rob the bank. Precisely the same order was observed on the occasion of the outrage at Columbia, Kentucky, which we shall now proceed to describe.

Columbia is a pleasant village in Adair county, in the middle part of the State of Kentucky. In the region of country in which Adair county is included, there are many of the relatives of the Boys resident, and these were then also friends. Columbia is a quiet village, except during the terms of the courts which meet there, it being the seat of justice of the county. At the time which we are now considering, the courts were not in session, and no more sedate a town in all Kentucky could be found than Columbia.

It was a lovely afternoon, April 29, 1872. The genial warmth of the sun had decked the earth in a carpet of green, clothed the trees in the forest, and called into being the myriad flowers, whose perfumes scented the breezy air. It was mild, and one of those lazy, dreamy afternoons, when, from very excess of enjoyment of the beauties of reviving nature, men are disposed to fall into sweet reveries.

But the quietude of Columbia was about to be rudely broken in upon, the repose of the beautiful spring day disturbed, and the place swept by a storm of excitement such as Columbia never experienced before. But we will not anticipate.

At the hour of two o'clock, on the afternoon of April 29th, 1872, Mr. R. A. C. Martin, cashier of the Deposit Bank at Columbia, and Mr. Garnett, a citizen, and two friends, were sitting quietly conversing in the bank office. Neither of the gentlemen was armed, and no one could have anticipated danger. Everything in the village was quiet, and the country around was enjoying the blessings of peace.

A half hour later the equanimity of the gentlemen was disturbed by the entrance of three men, well armed, who, with cocked pistols, ordered the cashier to surrender up the keys of the safe. Another one attempted to shoot Mr. Garnett, but that gentleman saved his life by knocking up the pistol, but was burned slightly by the flame produced by the discharge. All this was the transaction of a moment of time.

"Will you give up the safe-key, d—n you?" shouted one of the robbers, with a cocked pistol presented at Martin's head.

"I will not," was the answer.

"Then, d—n you, will you open the safe? Come, I've no time to wait. If you don't, I will blow your brains out. Come, will you?"

"I will not. I will d—"

The words were cut short. The sentence was never completed. There was a loud report, an involuntary moan from lips that would never speak again, and the lifeless form of R. A. C. Martin, the brave cashier, fell heavily to the floor. The other three gentlemen were guarded by one of the robbers, who kept his pistol cocked and pointed at them, and in view of their dead friend, jested with them about the facility with which he could dispatch all three of them. They had witnessed a demonstration of his skill, and they trembled for their lives.

Having disposed of the cashier, the two robbers who were in the bank commenced gathering up all the money and other valuables which were outside the safe. They tried to open the safe, but the combination was with the dead cashier, and the robbers were baffled.

It was soon known that five men, splendidly mounted, had entered Columbia, at an hour when very few people were abroad. They were armed with heavy dragoon pistols, but as they were divided, two coming in on one road and three on another, the citizens did not take the alarm until they heard, the firing at the bank. Two men held the horses of the three who went into the bank, and with pistols fired at every one who appeared on the street; and by their savage yells and fearful oaths they alarmed the people to such an extent that the place soon appeared as if it had been deserted.

Gathering everything they could carry away that had the semblance of money, placing it in a sack, and, one of them throwing it across his horse, the three robbers who had gone inside the building came out, remounted their horses, and with a shout which sent a thrill of terror to the hearts of the citizens of Columbia, they galloped away unmolested.

The suddenness of the raid; the terrible character of the men revealed by the murder of so highly esteemed a citizen as Mr. Martin; the facility with which they shot a vane off a chimney, and their declarations that they would murder every man in the place, which declarations were accompanied by the most terrible oaths, all had a tendency to demoralize the men of Columbia. Surprise and consternation prevented immediate action. But when the cause of their fears no longer remained, they rallied, and then commenced a pursuit which continued until in the mountains of Tennessee, in Fentress county, one of the robbers, who went by the name of Saunders, was wounded and finally captured. This man was often seen, by their friends, with Frank and Jesse James. This is conclusive of the fact that the Columbia robbery was committed by the same gang, who for some years are known to have aided the James Boys and Younger Brothers in many of their depredations. It has been asserted by some persons, in a position to obtain reliable information, that Frank James was the leader in this raid, and that Bill Longley, the noted Texas desperado, formed one of the party. At any rate, none of the robbers were ever caught, except the Texan, who went by the name of Saunders, and he was so fatally wounded that death closed his existence soon after.

Martin, the murdered cashier, was a gentleman held in high regard by the people of Adair county, and was a member of the Kentucky Legislature at the time of his tragic death. The failure to catch the robbers on this occasion had the effect of creating in the public mind the belief that an organized band of bank breakers existed, and sometimes the names of the Jameses and Youngers were mentioned as leaders of the band.

As Frank and Jesse James, the celebrated outlaws, live separate and apart from the rest of mankind, they have no confidence in men, and will not receive the confidence of others. Frank is a self-possessed, silent man, who cares little for the society of his fellows. Jesse, on the contrary, under some circumstances, might have become a rollicking, good-humored citizen, given to "merry jests and healthy laughter." Both have schooled themselves to wariness and a caution which keeps guard over their words at all times. They are temperate to the extent of total abstinence from every thing which could intoxicate. In brief, the James Boys are brave as men ever become; they are daring, but not reckless; they are intrepid to a degree perhaps unexcelled in any who have ever lived on this globe; no combination of circumstances or conditions can place them in a position to be surprised. In the midst of imminent personal danger they are cool and collected as if they were sitting at a table with a party of friends. They have made human nature a study, and have noted its every manifestation. They expect no mercy from a society which has long ago proscribed them, and they have little emotional regard to waste on that social organization which spurns them. Brothers in outlawry, separated from the balance of mankind by an impassable gulf which they have created themselves, they have learned to hate the representatives of law and order, and their defiance is not to be despised.

Superadded to physical courage unequalled, they possess cunning and craft never surpassed. With mental gifts which, properly directed, might have made them renowned as leaders of men in the better walks of life, they are no trifling foes to the vindicators of lawful authority.

These brothers, when under their true names, never even associate together. They do not travel the same road in company, and never travel the same way on the same day. Though never together, they are never far apart. If one needs assistance the other is sure to be near at hand to render it. If one should fall, it is safe to assume that his fall would be terribly avenged by the other. They ride at will over the vast plains of Texas, nearly always alone, unless danger threatens, and neither savage aborigines or wild borderers can make them afraid. They are veritable roving kings of the plains. In the haunts of civilization they are no less men to be dreaded and avoided. The quick pistol and the unerring aim cannot be despised. Dead men tell no tales, and the man who would betray will not return to reveal their counsels. Whicher sought them and Whicher died; Askew would surrender them, and he, too, perished on his own threshold. They seem to possess the occult power of reading other men's very thoughts. Such are the characteristics of the James Boys. Bold, shrewd, cool, deliberate men, whom no danger can appall; no sudden surprise can disconcert. They are always ready, and can act instantaneously whatever may be the emergency.

But it must not be supposed that these men, though outlaws, are exiles from the haunts of men. As Jameses they are seldom seen, by even the most intimate of the associates of other days. But they are not always the terrible outlaws to the seeming of men. Nor are they condemned to a lonely life away beyond the borders of civilization among wild herds and roaming savages. They have travelled much, and have carefully studied; they know the ways of the world, and avail themselves of that knowledge to enjoy some of the privileges and pleasures of civilization. Many times when they were hunted in the out-of-the-way regions of the country, they have been enjoying life as respectable gentlemen among the citizens of our Metropolitan centers. While Pinkerton's men have sought them among the forests of Clay county, Missouri, they have calmly reposed in the Grand Pacific hotel of Chicago; while McDonough's "staff" hunted the outlaws in Western Missouri, they were listening to the soul-stirring strains of Kellogg and Carey in St. Louis.

It must be known that for years they have led a double existence. They have many names, and are capable of assuming any character. The same circumspection in speech and action which enables them to successfully plunder a bank or overhaul an express train is carried with them into social life, and enables them to make friends and secure immunity from annoyance, and disarms all suspicion.

The plundered money of an express train permits them to appear as gentlemen at the Fifth Avenue hotel, New York, and Jesse James as Charles Lawson, of Nottingham, is not regarded as an outlaw in New York society. It must be remembered that the James Boys are not altogether illiterate, nor did they spring from a parentage of uncouth, unlettered rustics. They have made voyages by sea, and have been thrown with persons of culture and refinement. Their father was a man of decided culture, and they have many relatives of education and refinement. An uncle of theirs is a somewhat prominent citizen of California, recognized as a gentleman of intelligence and good breeding. It is, therefore, not so difficult for them to play the role of gentlemen even in refined society.

The Jameses have various names which they assume as occasion requires. Another peculiarity of their method is the respectable character of their friends in their own immediate neighborhoods. These are respectable farmers and stock-traders, and merchants and what not. Among their neighbors they are kind and hospitable, and in every transaction scrupulously honest. On Sunday they are punctually at church service, and are usually liberal contributors to all neighborhood charities. No one would for a moment suspect that such persons could possibly be in league with the most desperate outlaws who ever lived. Such good neighbors and upright persons surely can do nothing wrong—so the people think. Among these, Frank and Jesse are not known under their own proper names, and if they were it would make no difference. They are circumspect when with such people, and sometimes can assume the piety of Puritans.

It is related of the boys that on several occasions after a great robbery, as known and respectable citizens, they have joined in the pursuit of the marauders without exciting the least suspicion that they were concerned in the affair. The following story of Jesse has been repeated among their acquaintances:

One day—it was the second after the Corydon bank robbery—he was riding along a not much frequented highway, when he saw two men in pursuit. Confident that they had not seen him, he turned his horse's head toward them and rode up the road to meet them. They were citizens, well mounted and well armed. Jesse wore Grangers' clothes, and at once assumed a rustic simplicity which comported well with his garb. When he had approached near enough he quietly saluted the robber hunters, and in a simple manner began to converse with them in the following style:

"Well, gentlemen, hev you met anybody up the road ridin' of a hoss an' leadin ov another one, 'cause you see as how I lives down on the Noderway, an' some infernal thief has gone off with my best two hosses. I hearn about two miles furder back at the blacksmith's shop that er man passed there about a hour an' a half ago with two hosses, an' they fits the descripshun of mine to a T. Hev you seen sich?"

"No. Where are you travelling from?"

"Why, Lord, I've come all the way from the Noderway. The infernal thieves are just usin' us up that way. I wish I'd come on the infernal son of a seacook whose taken my hosses. I do, you bet, I'd go fur him with these 'ere irons. I would that!" And Jesse revealed his "weepons" as he called them.

"Did you see anybody on the road ahead?"

"Not for sum miles. I met four ugly lookin' customers this mornin'. They looked like they might 'a been hoss-thieves theirselves. D—n the hoss-thieves!"

"Thieves are plenty now-a-days. They come into towns and break banks in open daylight. How far did you say the four men were ahead?"

"Well, I didn't say, but it must be more'n two hours since I met 'em, an' they were a ridin' purty fast, an' I've rid my hoss almost down, as you can see."

"What kind of looking men were they?" asked the robber hunters.

"Well, one was a sizable man, with long, red beard, an' a flopped black hat on, aridin' on a big chesnut sorrel hoss, an' one more was a smallish man, with very black hair and beard, and sharp black eyes, an' he was a ridin' on a roan hoss, an' another was an oldish man, with some gray among his beard, an' he wore a blue huntin' shirt coat, an' he was a ridin' a gray hoss, and the last feller was a little weazle-faced chap, with tallowy complexion, who didn't ware no beard, an' he rode on a dark brown hoss."

The two robber hunters then consulted together. "That's their description," said one. "Precisely," said the other. "Shall we follow?" asked one. "I would like to," replied the other. "But there are four of them," was the remark in rejoinder. "Yes that is bad. If Ed, Dick and Will would just hurry up. Those fellows are no doubt very dangerous men," was the comment of one. "You bet they are," was the response.

All this time Jesse had listened as an interested party. Now he thought he was privileged to make an inquiry.

"What's up, strangers, anyhow?" Jesse asked.

"You blow it! Don't you know that the Corydon bank, up in Iowa, was robbed yesterday."

Jesse opened his eyes in well-feigned surprise. "You don't say so!" he ejaculated.

"Yes, in broad daylight, and the men you met are the robbers, no doubt. There's a big reward offered to catch them."

"What's this country a comin' to, anyhow? Hoss thieves down on the Noderway, an' bank rogues up to Iowa. 'Pears like hard workin' honest folks can't get along much more."

"Could you go back with us?"

"I'd like to, but the cussed hoss thieves will get away. Besides, you see, my hoss is mighty nigh played out hisself. Howsumever, I might ride with you as fur as I can. D—n all thieves, say I, don't you?"

And Jesse actually turned around with the two pursuers of the robbers, in pursuit of another posse of pursuers which Jesse had been enabled to accurately describe by having seen them pass him while lying snug in a dense thicket.

"They might catch the robbers, an' as he'd hev a sheer ov the reward, it would be better'n nothin' at all fur his stolin hosses."

For some miles he kept company with the robber catchers, until his horse becoming lame, and Jesse getting near a railway station, rendered further pursuit of bank robbers distasteful to him, and as his excuse was received as valid, he bid his late traveling companions an enthusiastic adieu, boarded a night train, and was in the vicinity of home next morning. Those were Jesse's courting days.

The writer of these pages has been informed by a reputable citizen of St. Louis, that at a time when the detective forces of both St. Louis and Chicago were out in the western part of the State, hunting for the James Boys and Younger Brothers, that he saw and conversed with Jesse James on the corner of Fifth and Chestnut streets, St. Louis, and that on that occasion Jesse attended the opera, Max Strakosch's troupe being then in the city. Of course Jesse James was not the name the people called him by, but he was to all seeming Mr. William Campbell, a most respectable shipper of cattle from Wichita, Kansas. As Mr. Campbell, he had business relations with many of the citizens, who esteemed him as "a very clever gentleman." At that time, according to the statement of the gentleman upon whose authority this incident is given, Jesse remained in St. Louis a number of days. His associations were excellent, and he was a visitor on 'Change, and ventured even into the Four Courts building, in company with a well-known citizen, who was, of course, ignorant of his true name and character. It is believed that during this trip he made banking arrangements, and that the Boys now carry a heavy bank account in some St. Louis bank. Of course this business is transacted under assumed names.

Thus far no arrests had been made of the plunderers of the banks at Russellville, Kentucky; Gallatin, Missouri, and Columbia, Kentucky. Boldly the brigands had ridden, and skillfully they had executed their purpose, and, we may almost say, peacefully they rode away when their deeds were done. At first, people knew not what to think of these daring daylight raids. The best detective skill was placed at fault in ferreting out the haunts of the robbers. Russellville and Gallatin are separated by many hundreds of miles. Could the robbers of the former possibly be the raiders into the last-named place? And Gallatin is far removed from Columbia; was it possible that the murderers and robbers at the first-named place were the same persons who astonished the people, murdered the cashier and plundered the bank at Columbia? People asked these questions, and no one was found able to answer them. Scarcely had the people ceased to talk, and the excitement incident to the bold raid on Columbia, with its concomitant horror, died away, ere the country was shaken by the recurrence of a similar daring outrage in another state.

It was the old story repeated. This time a flourishing town in Iowa was selected for the scene of exciting events. In Corydon there was, and there still is, a bank. In that town a considerable amount of business is transacted, and it was a season of the year—June 28th, 1873—when much of the capital usually employed in mercantile transactions—it was reasonable to infer—was held in reserve by the bank, and the raiders calculated on a large prize to compensate for the risk taken. Certainly the men who went to Corydon were trained in the same school in which the Russellville, Gallatin, Columbia and Northfield robbers were at one time pupils. Riding into town in daylight, when the inhabitants were out and abroad pursuing their usual avocations, the thoroughly armed and well-mounted desperadoes proceeded to the bank. Three of them dismounted, drew their pistols, and entered the office. Taken entirely by surprise, the cashier and two other gentlemen who were present, could offer no resistance. In fact, the memory of Gallatin, and the fate of poor Captain Sheets, came back to them with painful distinctness. They were paralyzed before the dark chambers of the huge dragoon pistols, and could not even so much as protest against the proceedings. They yielded to the inevitable.

The horsemen who remained in the street ordered all citizens to retire to their houses, and, with fearful imprecations, threatened to blow the heads off those who manifested the slightest hesitation in obeying their commands. Meanwhile, the bandits on the inside were exercising their pleasure with the assets of the bank. The safe was opened and its contents raked into a sack which the robbers carried along. During the progress of their labors in "taking in" the valuables of the institution, one of them, who seemed to have been deputied to stand guard over the persons found in the place, amused himself by jesting at their distress, and cheerfully asserting his ability to pick the buttons off their coats with pistol bullets. The robbers remained but a few minutes. The citizens were becoming aware of what was transpiring in their midst, and were recovering from their surprise, and rallying to contest with the robbers. With great oaths they bade the people in the bank to remain perfectly quiet until they were gone, forced them to the door while they retired, regained and mounted their horses, and, shouting loudly, they rode rapidly away, and were out of town many minutes before any one was ready to go in pursuit. They were pursued afterward, but none were captured.