In the latter part of August, 1876, a mysterious company of men made their appearance in southern Minnesota, and proceeded to visit various cities and villages in that part of the state. There were certainly eight of them, and possibly nine, some of them hard, vicious-looking fellows, from whom people instinctively shrank, others gentlemanly, handsome, and even imposing in personal appearance. They travelled on horseback and rode like men accustomed to live in the saddle. They had the finest of horses and equipment, part of it brought with them, the rest purchased after they entered the state. They had plenty of money and spent it lavishly. In their progress from place to place they did not go like [pg 2] an organized band, but wandered here and there, sometimes two by two, sometimes four or five together. When several of them visited a town together, they went to different hotels and avoided all appearance of collusion or of common design. Often they avoided towns and sought entertainment at the houses of farmers or other citizens, where they found no difficulty in making themselves agreeable and in giving a plausible account of themselves. Wherever they went, they attracted more or less attention, excited the curiosity of the inquisitive, and occasionally the suspicions of the wary; but upon most people they made the impression of well-bred respectability. They passed for civil engineers looking up railway routes, for capitalists in search of land, for stockmen dealing in horses and cattle. Their outfit and mode of travel made either of these suppositions reasonable, and their smooth courtesy, affability and apparent frankness were accepted in lieu of credentials of character. That they were not all that they pretended to be many people suspected; but that they were a band of outlaws, or rather a combination of three bands, comprising the most notorious desperadoes in the country, laying their plans for a great robbery, no one suspected. Still less did [pg 3] they themselves suspect that their career of crime was so near its close, or that they were making deliberate plans for their own destruction.
Of course they passed under assumed names, introducing themselves as J. C. King, Jack Ward, etc. It is now known that the band consisted of the following men: Jesse James and his brother Frank, Thomas C. Younger (commonly known as Cole Younger) and his brothers James and Robert, Clel Miller, William Stiles, alias Chadwell, and Charles Pitts, alias Geo. Wells. Some persons maintain that there was a ninth man, but he has never been identified, and is commonly believed to be mythical. The eight whose names are given were all men of criminal antecedents, and some of them with a record for deeds of the most revolting atrocity; though several of them were connected with highly respectable families.
In prospecting for a favorable opening, they visited a number of places, going as far north as St. Paul and Minneapolis, and as far east as Red Wing. In each place they made a careful study of the chances for successful operations in their line and of routes of escape, visiting the banks on one pretext or another, and familiarizing themselves with all facts that had any bearing on their scheme. They took special pains to make [pg 4] themselves acquainted with such features of the country as would aid or hinder them in going and coming on their intended raid; as, for instance, the location of lakes, streams, swamps or forests, on the one hand, and that of roads, bridges and fords, on the other. The situation and the resources of villages, the extent of country population, and the nationality and character of the people also interested them. With the aid of maps, printed statements and minute inquiries, they succeeded in gaining a large amount of information, without betraying their purpose,—information which they found exceedingly convenient at a later day. They also had the advantage of being to a certain extent personally conducted. Stiles, one of their number, had formerly lived in Rice county, and was therefore able to act as a sort of guide for the expedition, if, indeed, he was not, as some think, its instigator. Their reliance upon him, however, proved in the end, as we shall see, a source of danger rather than of safety.
Finding nothing to their mind in the great cities, they turned their attention to a group of country towns lying farther south, including St. Peter, Mankato, Lake Crystal, Madelia, St. James, Garden City, Janesville, Cordova, [pg 5] Waterville, Millersburg, Cannon City and Northfield. These, again, divide themselves into two smaller groups, having direct or indirect relation to the two points of attack selected by the robbers, and all of them being on or near a diagonal line, extending about thirty or forty miles southwest and about forty or fifty miles northeast of Mankato.
Having completed their preliminary survey, they prepared for their grand exploit. Their first project was the robbery of one or more of the banks of Mankato, a thriving town at the great bend of the Minnesota River. Five of the band appeared in Mankato on Saturday, September 2nd, and, as usual, created a sensation with their fine horses and horsemanship. They made purchases at some of the stores, and paid a visit to the First National Bank, where they got change for a fifty dollar bill. According to their custom, they stayed at different hotels, at least four of them did, while the fifth sought some other resort not identified. On Sunday night two of them were known to be at a notorious resort on the opposite side of the river, a rendezvous of the lowest criminals, where, as is believed, they were in consultation with confederates with reference to their intended raid and subsequent escape. [pg 6] Meantime, Jesse James had been recognized by a man who knew him by sight, and the fact was reported to the police who shadowed the men until midnight, and put some of the bank people on their guard against possible burglaries; though no one anticipated an open attack by daylight.
On Monday, the 4th, the robbers mounted their horses and rode forth to their intended attack. Their plan was to make it about noon, when the bank force would be reduced and the streets would be most free of citizens. They had already arrived opposite the First National Bank, when they noticed a number of citizens on the sidewalk, and saw one of them apparently calling another's attention to the approaching horsemen. The robbers, fearing that they were suspected and watched, deferred the attack till a later hour. On returning, however, they saw the same citizens again, seeming, as before, to be keeping close watch upon the strangers. Convinced now that their purpose was discovered and that the citizens were prepared for them, the robbers abandoned their project and left Mankato as speedily as possible. The truth was that they were at that moment the object of no suspicion whatever. The regular weekly meeting of the Board of [pg 7] Trade, and some repairs on an adjoining building, had called together the unusual number of persons whom the robbers observed, and the man who was supposed to be directing his companion's attention to the bandits was simply remarking upon the fine quality of their horses. No doubt, however, the presence of so large a number of spectators would have seriously embarrassed the gang in beginning operations. As it was, they sensed just as good a purpose in repelling the attack as if they had been a company of armed militia on duty.
Abandoning Mankato, the robbers now moved upon Northfield as directly as roads and available stopping-places would permit. Monday night found them in Janesville, eighteen miles east of Mankato; Tuesday night in Cordova, about the same distance north of Janesville; Wednesday night in Millersburg, northeast of Cordova. The rest of the band spent the same Wednesday night in Cannon City. Millersburg is eleven miles west of Northfield, Cannon City ten miles south.
Northfield is a quiet but enterprising little city, in the heart of a rich and well cultivated agricultural region which is tributary to it. It has good railroad facilities; and the Cannon River, flowing through the town, affords power for its mills and adds a picturesque feature to its scenery. A bridge crosses the river in the centre of the town, connecting its eastern and its western divisions, and leading, on the eastern side, into an open [pg 9] space known as Bridge Square, where many of the stores are to be found. On the eastern side of the Square runs Division Street, the principal business street of the city, along the foot of a bluff some fifty feet in height, ascended by various streets, and crowned with residences, churches and educational buildings. Prominent among the public edifices are those of Carleton College, in the northeastern part of the city; while St. Olaf surmounts a high eminence in the northwestern. An observant stranger, entering the city for the first time, could hardly fail to get the impression of intelligence, thrift and commercial enterprise. This was precisely the impression made upon the robbers; and it was this impression which led them to select Northfield as a field of operations.
Ten or twelve days before the final attempt upon the bank, two members of the band had visited the town for a preliminary survey. They conversed with citizens, as their custom was, making inquiries about roads, etc., particularly about the route to Mankato, and awakened the suspicion of at least one or two of the citizens as to the truth of their pretension. They found a bank doing a large business, and presumably carrying a large volume of cash; and they saw the people quiet and industrious, and presumably [pg 10] neither prepared nor disposed to meet force with force. What plans they then formed for the subsequent raid it is impossible to say; but it is certain that they were no sooner foiled in Mankato than they started for Northfield.
As we have already seen, the two divisions of the band spent the night of Wednesday, September 6th, in neighboring villages, within easy reach of their next day's destination. Early on the morning of Thursday, the 7th, they took up their march along the roads converging upon Northfield, meeting in the woods west of the town. In the course of the forenoon, some of them appeared upon the streets and in the stores, where two of them were recognized as the same two that had made the previous visit of inspection already referred to. They all wore linen dusters, a garment much more common with the traveler in those days than in our own, and one that seemed entirely suitable for the sultry weather then prevailing, while it served to conceal the pistols and cartridge-belts, with which the robbers were so liberally supplied. Five of the men dined together at a restaurant on the west side of the river, waiting contentedly for their dinner to be cooked, conversing with the proprietor on politics and other indifferent subjects, and, after they had [pg 11] finished their meal, still delaying unaccountably, probably to give time for the arrival of the rest of their accomplices. Finally they remounted their horses and rode over the bridge.
It is difficult, and, so far as the present writer is concerned, impossible, after the most painstaking study of all available sources of information, to determine the exact order of events at the opening of the attack. No one observer followed all the preliminary movement of the robbers. One person noticed one thing and another another; and each depended more or less upon hearsay for items not within his personal knowledge. The similarity of dress already referred to made it difficult to distinguish the robbers from one another; while the wild excitement which soon ensued gave little opportunity for careful observation. With no attempt to reconcile conflicting statements, therefore, which happily differ only in unimportant details, this narrative will confine itself to those facts upon which all witnesses agree.
The scene of the robbery and the movements of the robbers may be easily understood from the accompanying cut. The center of operations was the Corner of Bridge Square and Division Street. On this corner stood a two-story stone building [pg 12] known as the Scriver Block. Its upper story was used for offices, and was reached by an outside stairway on Division Street. The larger part of the lower story was occupied by two stores, ranging north and south, and having their front entrances on the northern Bridge Square side. At the extreme southern end of the building, and having its entrance on the eastern or Division Street side, was the object of attack, the First National Bank. On the western side of the block ran a narrow alley, affording rear entrances to the stores and the bank. West of the alley, and fronting on the square, were two hardware stores whose respective proprietors were leading actors in the scene that followed,—J. S. Allen and A. R. Manning. On the eastern side of Division Street, opposite the Scriver Block, were a hotel and a number of stores, in front of one of which stood a young man who was also to have a prominent part in the coming affray,—Mr. H. M. Wheeler, then at home on a vacation from his medical studies in Michigan University.
As has been previously stated, the robber band comprised three subdivisions,—the two James brothers, the three Younger brothers, and three odd ones,—Miller, Pitts and Stiles. In their active operations another threefold division was [pg 13 ] adopted, each of the squads containing one of the Younger brothers and one of the odd ones, and two of them containing one of the James brothers. That is there were two trios and one couple. Of these, one trio was detailed to commit the robbery, while the couple cooperated with them on Division Street, and the other trio acted as a rear guard on Bridge Square, the direction in which the band intended to retreat.
It was about 2 o'clock in the afternoon that the first trio, consisting of Pitts, Bob Younger and, it is believed, one of the James brothers, came over the bridge, and crossing the Square from northwest to southeast, dismounted in front of the bank, throwing their bridle reins over some hitching posts beside the street. They then sauntered to the Corner and lounged upon some dry-goods boxes in front of the store (Lee and Hitchcock's) assuming an air of indifference, and whittling the boxes, like the most commonplace loafers. Presently the two horsemen constituting the second detail entered Division Street from the south, and rode toward the bank. They were Cole Younger and Clel Miller. Upon their approach the three men at the corner walked back to the door of the bank and went in. Miller, dismounting in front of the door, left his horse [pg 14] unhitched, went to the door and looked in, and then, closing it, walked back and forth before it. Younger dismounted in the middle of the street, where he made a pretense of tightening his saddle-girth.
By this time the attention of several citizens had been attracted to the maneuvers of the robbers. Word had been brought that nine men on horseback had been seen coming out of the woods southwest of the city; and the presence of so many strange horsemen on the street began to awaken uneasiness. Yet when some expressed these fears, they were laughed at by others, and assured that the men were merely cattle-buyers on a legitimate business tour.
Among those whose suspicions had been especially aroused were Dr. Wheeler and Mr. J. S. Allen, already referred to. Dr. Wheeler was sitting under an awning in front of his father's store on the east side of Division Street when the men entered the street; and as their actions seemed to him to indicate some mischievous intent, he rose and moved along the sidewalk till he was opposite them. Mr. Allen was on the other side of the street; and when he saw the three men enter the bank, he attempted to follow them in. He was instantly seized by Miller, who had been placed [pg 15] there for that purpose, and who, drawing his revolver, and pouring forth a volley of oaths, ordered Allen to stand back, and warned him on peril of his life not to utter a word. Allen jerked away from the ruffian's grasp, and ran back to and around the corner toward his store, shouting in a voice that resounded blocks away, “Get your guns, boys! They're robbing the bank!” At the same time Dr. Wheeler had stepped into the street, and was shouting, “Robbery! Robbery!” his alarm being at once justified and intensified by the round of pistol shots within the bank.
Upon this, Miller and Younger sprang into their saddles, ordering Wheeler back, with oaths and threats, and firing one or two shots over his head, to intimidate him and to give notice to their confederates that their game was discovered. Then the two robbers began riding up and down Division Street, at their utmost speed, shooting right and left, with horrible oaths calling upon every one they saw to “get in”—an order that was obeyed with pretty general promptness and unanimity. At the same time the three men near the bridge took up the same tactics, and came dashing across the Square, shooting and shouting like their comrades, whom they joined on Division Street. Wherever they saw a head, [pg 16] out of doors or at a window, they sent a shower of balls. The air was filled with the sounds of the fray, the incessant bang bang of the heavy revolvers, the whistling of bullets, the crashing of glass and the chorus of wild yells and imprecations. The first intention of the robbers was not to kill anyone, but to strike terror into the mind of the people, and, by driving everybody from the streets, to give the men in the bank time to work, to prevent any attempt at interference, and to secure themselves an unobstructed line of retreat. Strange to say, during this part of the affray, though the robbers kept up a constant fusilade from their revolvers, but one person was shot,—a Scandinavian who could not understand English, and who was fatally wounded while persistently remaining on the street.
Meantime, a very different scene was enacted within the bank, where the first trio of robbers were dealing with a trio of bank employes as resolute as themselves. These were Mr. A. E. Bunker, teller, Mr. J. L. Heywood, book-keeper and Mr. F. J. Wilcox, assistant book-keeper. The cashier, Mr. G. M. Phillips, being out of the state, Mr. Heywood was acting cashier. The bank was at the time occupying temporary quarters, not arranged with reference to emergencies of this kind. A counter, constructed somewhat like an ordinary office or store counter, extended across two sides, between the lobby and the interior of the room. This was surmounted for nearly its entire length by a high railing containing glass panels; but in the angle between the two sections of the counter there was an open space, entirely unprotected, wide enough for a man to pass through.
When the three robbers entered the bank the [pg 18] employes were busy at their tasks, and had no suspicion of approaching danger. Mr. Bunker, the teller, hearing footsteps in the lobby, and supposing that some customer had entered, turned from his work to wait upon him, coming to the open space before referred to. There three revolvers were pointing at him, and he was peremptorily ordered to throw up his hands. His first impression was that one of his friends were playing a practical joke upon him. Before he had time to comprehend the situation, the three robbers had climbed over the counter, and covering him and his associates with their revolvers, commanded them to hold up their hands.
“We're going to rob this bank,” said one of the men. “Don't any of you holler. We've got forty men outside.” Then, with a flourish of his revolver, he pointed to Heywood and said, “Are you the cashier?”
“No,”, replied Heywood.
The same question was put to Bunker and to Wilcox, each of whom made the same reply.
“You are the cashier,” said the robber, turning upon Heywood, who was sitting at the cashier's desk, and who appeared to be the oldest of the employes. “Open that safe —— quick, or I'll blow your head off.”
[pg 19]A second robber—Pitts—then ran to the vault and stepped inside, whereupon Heywood, who had risen to his feet, followed him and attempted to close the door. He was instantly dragged back, and the two robbers, thrusting their revolvers in his face, said, “Open that safe, now, or you haven't but a minute to live,” accompanying their threats with oaths.
“There is a time lock on,” Heywood replied, “and it cannot be opened now.”
“That's a lie!” retorted the robbers, again repeatedly demanding, with threats and profanity, that the safe be opened, and dragging Heywood roughly about the room.
Finally, seeming to realize what desperate men he was dealing with, Heywood shouted, “Murder! Murder!” Whereupon one of the robbers struck him a terrible blow on the head with a revolver, felling him to the floor. Pitts then drew a knife from his pocket, and opening it, said, “Let's cut his —— throat,” and made a feint of doing so, inflicting a slight wound on Heywood's neck as he lay helpless upon the floor. The two men then dragged him from where he lay, at the rear of his desk, back to the door of the vault, still demanding that he open the safe. Occasionally also they turned from him to Bunker and [pg 20] Wilcox, pointing their revolvers at them and calling on them to “Unlock that safe.” To this demand the young men answered that they could not unlock the safe. The statement was true, though in a sense quite different from that in which the robbers understood it. The reason that they could not unlock it was that it was unlocked already. The door was closed and the bolts were shot into place, but the combination dial was not turned. This was one of the humors of the situation, but one which those in the secret were not in a position to enjoy. As a last resort for coercing Heywood, who was still lying on the floor, in but a partially conscious condition, Pitts placed his revolver close to Heywood's head and fired. The bullet passed into the vault and through a tin box containing jewelry and papers left by some customer for safe keeping. This was the first shot fired in the bank, and its futility well foretokened the failure of the whole effort.
While Bunker and Wilcox received occasional attention from Heywood's assailants, their special custodian was Bob Younger. As Bunker had his pen in his hand when first ordered to hold up his hands, it remained for a time poised in the air. When he made an effort to lay it down, Younger, noticing the movement, and thinking it an [pg 21] attempt to reach a weapon, sprang at Bunker, and thrusting his revolver into his face, said, “Hear, put up your hands and keep 'em up, or I'll kill you!” Then, to hold his prisoners more completely under his control, he compelled them both to get down on their knees under the counter. All the robbers were very much excited, and increasingly so as they found themselves baffled and resisted. Younger would point his pistol first at one of the young men and then at the other, turning from time to time to search among the papers on the desk, or to open a drawer in quest of valuables.
While still on his knees, Bunker remembered a revolver kept on a shelf under the teller's window, and edged toward the place in hope of reaching it. Turning his head that way while Younger's back was toward him, his movement was instantly detected by Pitts, who leaped before him, and seizing the pistol, put it in his own pocket, remarking, “You needn't try to get hold of that. You couldn't do any thing with that little derringer, anyway.” It is no doubt fortunate that Bunker did not succeed in reaching the weapon, as he would almost certainly have been shot down by the robbers before he could use it. The pistol was found upon Pitts at the time of his capture and death.
[pg 22]Bunker now rose to his feet, intending to make some effort to escape or to give an alarm. As he did so, Younger turned to him and said, “Where's the money outside the safe? Where's the cashier's till?” Bunker showed him a partitioned box on the counter, containing some small change and fractional currency; but did not call his attention to a drawer beneath the counter, containing $3,000 in bills. Again ordering Bunker to get down on his knees and keep his hands up, Younger drew from under his coat a grain-sack, which he began to fill from the box. Presently he turned again to Bunker, and finding him on his feet, he said, with a wicked look and with an outburst of horrible profanity, “There's more money than that out here. Where's that cashier's till? And what in —— are you standing up for? I told you to keep down.” Seizing Bunker, and forcing him to the floor, Younger pressed the muzzle of his revolver against Bunker's temple and said, “Show me where that money is, you —— —— —— or I'll kill you!” Receiving no answer, he left Bunker and renewed his search for the money.
Bunker once more regained his feet, and taking advantage of a moment when the robber's face was turned, he dashed past Wilcox, into and through the directors' room, to the rear door, [pg 23] then closed with blinds fastened on the inside. His intention was to enter the rear of Manning's hardware store, on the other side of the alley, and give the alarm. He knew nothing yet of what was going on in the street, and he believed Heywood to be dead from the effect of the pistol shot apparently aimed at his head.
The first of the robbers to notice the escape was Pitts, whose eyes seemed to be everywhere at once, and who was then with Heywood in front of the vault. Before he had time to shoot, however, Bunker was out of his range around the corner of the vault, and making for the door. With a mad yell Pitts bounded after the fugitive, and coming in sight of him, fired as he ran, the ball whizzing past Bunker's ear and through the blind in front of him. Bunker threw his weight against the blinds, bursting them open, plunged down a flight of outside steps, and had nearly reached the rear entrance of the next building when he was again fired upon by Pitts. This time the ball hit its mark, passing through the right shoulder, near the joint, barely missing the sub-clavian artery, and coming out just below the collar-bone. As he felt the sting and shock of the wound, he stumbled; but keeping his feet, and not knowing how badly he might be wounded, he [pg 24] ran on across a vacant lot and around to a surgeon's office in the next block. Pitts gave up the chase and returned to his companions in the bank, but only to hear one of their confederates on the outside shout, “The game is up! Better get out, boys. They're killing all our men.” Hearing this, the three robbers sprang through the teller's window and rushed into the street. As the last one climbed over the counter, he turned toward poor Heywood, who had gotten upon his feet and was staggering toward his desk, and deliberately shot him through the head. The act was without provocation or excuse, and was afterwards denounced by others of the gang as “a fool act,” though others still made an absurd attempt to justify it on the ground of self-defense. It was a piece of cowardly revenge on the part of a ruffian who was made desperate by defeat, and who, as was evident throughout the entire scene in the bank, was badly under the influence of liquor.
The battle in the street was now at its height, and the spirit in which it was waged on the part of the citizens showed how grossly the robbers had mistaken the mettle of the people with whom they had to deal. The community was taken by surprise and at a great disadvantage. It was at the height of the prairie-chicken season, and a majority of the men who had guns were away in the field. The excellent hunting in the neighborhood had drawn many sportsmen from the larger cities, accustoming the people to the presence of strangers, while they had no reason to expect a hostile invasion. When the mounted bandits on Bridge Square and Division Street began riding and shooting, the first impression was that of surprise. Some thought it the reckless fun of drunken scapegraces. Some took the riders to be the attaches of a traveling show, advertising their performance. When the bullets began to [pg 26] fly about people's ears, and the character of the invaders became evident, every body was stunned and dazed, and there was a general scramble for shelter. But the next moment there was an equally prompt rally of brave men to repel the attack.
Dr. Wheeler, who had been one of the first to give the alarm, and who had been driven from the street by the imprecations and bullets of the robbers, hastened to the drug-store where he usually kept his gun. Remembering as he went that he had left it at the house, he did not slacken his pace, but kept on through the store, heading first for the house of a neighbor, where he hoped a weapon might be found, but on second thought turning into the Dampier Hotel, close at hand, where he remembered to have seen one. There, instead of the fowling-piece he looked for, he found an old army carbine, for which, with the help of Mr. Dampier the clerk, three cartridges were discovered in another part of the house. All this was so quickly done, that he was at a second-story chamber window, with his gun loaded, in time for the beginning of the fight.
Meantime Mr. Allen, who had also sounded so prompt and vigorous an alarm, ran to his store where he had a number of guns, and loading them [pg 27] with such ammunition as came to his hand, gave them to anybody who would take them. One of them was taken by Mr. Elias Stacy, who used it to good purpose in the battle that followed.
As Mr. Allen went to his own store, he had passed that of Mr. Manning, to whom he shouted his warning concerning the robbers. Up to this time Manning had no suspicion of what was going on. One of the robbers had been in the store in the forenoon, looking about and pretending he wanted to buy a gun. He was a genteel, well-dressed fellow, and Manning supposed him to be some stranger who had come to Northfield to hunt; though he did not believe that he wanted any gun, and thought there was something wrong about him. Even when the three horsemen dashed through the Square so noisily and belligerently, he thought little of it. But when he heard Allen's shout, and made out the words “Robbing the Bank,” he recalled what he had seen and the meaning of it all flashed upon his mind. Abruptly leaving the customer he was serving, he rushed for a weapon, thinking hard and fast. Pistols? No, they would be of little account, His shotgun? Yes—No; he had left all his loaded cartridges at home. His breach-loading rifle! That was the thing; and here it was in the window; and there [pg 28] in a pigeon-hole of his desk were the cartridges, where they had been carelessly thrown months before. All this came to him without an instant's loss of time. He forgot nothing and he made no mistakes. Stripping the rifle of its cover, and seizing a handful of cartridges, he hurried to the scene of battle, loading as he ran.
The scene on the street is indescribable. People had not only made haste to get out of the way of the leaden hail-storm that had burst forth, but had also taken measures to protect themselves and their property against the raiders, whose intention was believed to be not only to rob the bank but to pillage the entire town. Stores and offices were hastily closed. The postmaster, Capt. H. S. French, who chanced to have an exceptionally heavy registered mail on hand that day, hastened to lock it in the safe and close the Office. Jewelers and others who had valuable and portable stock pursued a similar course. The news of the invasion, emphasized by the sound of the shooting, spread swiftly through the town. Warning was sent to the public school and to Carleton College to keep the students off the streets. The general impression was that the town was in possession of a horde of robbers, numbering nobody knew how many, and coming [pg 29] nobody knew whence, and bent on ruthless plunder, nobody knew to what extent.
The scene of the actual conflict was that part of Division Street on which the bank faced, and scarcely a full block in length. Here the five mounted robbers went riding back and forth, up one side of the street and down the other, doing their utmost with voice and arms to keep up the reign of terror which they had begun. The citizens whom they had driven in were looking for weapons, and the bolder ones were coming back, some armed and some unarmed, around the margin of the field. Capt. French, having made Uncle Sam's property as secure as possible, stood in front of the locked door, wondering where he could soonest find a gun. Justice Streater and ex policeman Elias Hobbs stepped out into the Square, empty handed but undaunted, and determined to do something by way of resistance to the invasion. A few were so fortunate as to have not only the courage but the means for an armed defence. Mr. Stacy, already referred to, came out with a fowling-piece, and confronting Miller, just as the latter was mounting his horse, fired at his head. The fine bird shot marked the robber's face, and the force of the charge knocked him back from the saddle, but inflicted no serious wound. [pg 30] There was a poetic justice in the incident, as it was Allen, whom Miller had seized and threatened at the bank, who owned and loaded the gun, and sent it out in the hands of his neighbor to draw first blood from the very man that had assaulted its owner.
Later on in the battle Messrs. J. B. Hyde, Ross Phillips and James Gregg also did their best with similar weapons, and it was not their fault that the shotguns they used upon the bandits were inadequate to the occasion. Mr. Hobbs, who had no weapon at all, fell back upon more primitive methods, and at the height of the fray came on shouting, “Stone 'em! Stone 'em!” and suiting the action to the word, and choosing not “smooth stones from the brook,” but big and formidable missiles, more fit for the hand of Goliath than for the sling of David, hurled rocks and curses at the enemy, and not without effect. Col. Streater also joined in this mode of warfare, which, if not the most effective, certainly evinced a high a degree of courage as they could have shown in the the use of the most approved weapon. Other citizens, too, took a hand in the affair, as opportunity offered, and some of them had narrow escape from the bullets with which the robbers responded to their attentions.
[pg 31]But while there was no lack of good intentions on the part of others, it was the two men with rifles, Manning and Wheeler, who were able to do real execution upon the enemy, and finally to put them to rout. We go back, therefore, to the moment when Manning came running from his store with the rifle in his hand. Taking in the situation at a glance, and intent only upon getting at the robbers, he stepped out into the open street, and amid a shower of bullets, coolly looked for his game. Before him stood the horses of the men who were still in the bank, and over the heads of the horses he saw the heads of two men, upon whom he instantly drew a bead. The men ducked behind the horse, whereupon Manning, without lowering his gun, changed his aim and shot the nearest horse, rightly judging that this would cripple the band almost as effectually as shooting the men. He then dropped back around the corner to reload; but finding to his chagrin that the breach-lever would not throw out the empty shell, he was obliged to go back to the store and get a ramrod with which to dislodge it, thus losing valuable time. The interruption proved a good thing for him, however, moderating his excitement and rashness, and preparing him to do better execution. Soon he was at the [pg 32] corner again. Peering around the corner, he saw one of the robbers between the horses and the bank door, and fired at him. The ball grazed the edge of a post, deflecting it slightly; but it found Cole Younger, wounding him in a vulnerable though not vital place. Again Manning dropped back to reload. The shell gave him no trouble this time, and he was quickly at his post once more. As he looked cautiously around the corner, he saw Stiles sitting on his horse, some seventy-five or eighty yards away, apparently doing sentry duly in that part of the street. Manning took deliberate aim at him—so deliberate as to excite the impatience and call forth the protests of some who were near him—and fired, shooting the man through the heart. Manning, as before, stepped back to reload, the robber fell from his saddle, dead, and the horse ran to a livery-stable around the corner.
While these things were going on, Dr. Wheeler was not idle. His first shot was at the head of Jim Younger, who was riding by. The gun carried high, and the ball struck the ground beyond him. Younger looked first at the spot where it struck, and then turned to see where it came from, but did not discover the sharp-shooter at the window above him. Wheeler's next shot [pg 33] was at Clel Miller, whom Stacy had already peppered with bird-shot. The bullet passed through his body almost precisely as Pitts' bullet had passed through Bunker's; but in this case the great artery was severed and almost instant death ensued. Wheeler's third and last cartridge had fallen upon the floor, bursting the paper of which it was made, and spilling the powder. Hurrying in search of more, he met his friend Dampier coming with a fresh supply.
The robbers were now badly demoralized. Their shooting had been wild and fruitless. They had lost two men and a horse killed; a third man was wounded; two riderless horses had escaped from them, and an armed force had cut off their proposed line of retreat. It was at this juncture that Cole Younger rode to the door of the bank and shouted to the men inside to come out, which they made all haste to do. Two of the men mounted their horses, which still stood before the door. There was no horse for Bob Younger, and he was compelled to fight on foot.
By this time Manning and Wheeler had both reloaded, and returned to their places. As Manning showed himself, ready to renew the battle, Bob Younger came running toward him down the sidewalk. Manning raised his rifle to shoot at the [pg 34] approaching robber, and at the same instant Younger drew his revolver to shoot Manning. In the effort to get out of each other's range, Younger dodged under the outside stairway of the Scriver Block, while Manning stood at the corner beyond it. The stairs were thus between them, and neither of them could get a shot at the other without exposing himself to the fire of his adversary. For a time they kept up a game of hide and seek, each trying in vain to catch the other off his guard and get the first shot. At this point Wheeler, though he could but imperfectly see Younger's body beneath the stair, took a shot at him. The ball struck the robber's elbow, shattering the bone. He then coolly changed his pistol to his left hand and continued his efforts to shoot Manning.
It then occurred to Manning that by running around through the store he might reach the street on the other side of the robber, and so drive him from his hiding-place. This plan he instantly put in execution. At the same moment Wheeler was engaged in reloading his gun. But the robbers had their plans, too, and took advantage of this momentary lull to make their escape. Bob Younger sprang from his hiding-place and ran up Division street, where he mounted behind his [pg 35] brother Cole; and the entire band,—or at least what was left of it, turned and fled. Wheeler returned to his window and Manning emerged upon the sidewalk only to find that their game had flown. Even then there was an excellent chance for long-range shooting; but the intervening distance was immediately filled with people, making it impossible to shoot without endangering innocent lives.
This battle between desperados and peaceful citizens has well been cited as proof that the prowess, courage and dead-shot skill at arms commonly ascribed to the border ruffian are largely imaginary. On the one side was a band of heavily armed and thoroughly trained and organized banditti, carrying out a carefully made plan, in their own line of business, after weeks of preparation. On the other side was a quiet, law-abiding community, unused to scenes of violence, taken utterly by surprise and at a fearful disadvantage, with no adequate means of defence except two long-disused rifles in out-of-the-way places, and one of them on the retired army list. Yet the banditti were beaten at their own game, and their courage lasted only while the odds were in their favor. As to marksmanship, they were vastly outdone by their citizen opponents. [pg 36] Excepting the cold-blooded murder of a defenceless spectator, they did not in the entire fight fire one effective shot. It is said that at least thirty shots were fired at Manning alone; yet he escaped without a scratch.
In the bank, heroism of another order had displayed itself. Without the excitement of open battle, or the stimulus of numbers, and without the slightest means or opportunity for defence, the three unarmed young men balked the three armed ruffians who held them in their power, meeting threats and violence with passive resistance, and in the face of death itself refusing to yield one jot to the demands of their assailants.
The brunt of this unequal contest fell upon poor Heywood. How he met it has been already related. Threatened, assaulted, dragged about, brutally struck down, menaced with the knife, ostensibly shot at, he could not be persuaded or bullied into surrendering his trust or becoming the accomplice of robbers. It is interesting to know that before this ordeal came to him he had been led to ask himself what he would do in such an emergency, and had made up his mind that he would under no circumstances give up the property of his employers. His steadfast resistance to the robbers' demands, therefore, was not due [pg 37] to a hesitating policy, or to the mere obstinate impulse of the moment, but was the result of a deliberate purpose and conviction of duty. The fatal cost of his fidelity was something which he could not have failed to take account of all along, as the most probable end of a struggle with such desperate men as he was dealing with. At a time when we hear so often that persons in similar circumstances have been compelled to unlock vaults or to open safes at the dictation of robbers, there is a wholesome tonic in the example of a man who proved that there is not in the whole world of criminal force a power that can overcome one brave man who chooses at all hazards to do his duty.