CHAPTER V. AFTER THE BATTLE.

The battle was over. So swift had been its movement, so rapidly had its events followed one another, that it was done before people beyond its immediate vicinity knew that it had begun. From its opening to its closing shot it had occupied but seven minutes. But it had been as decisive as it was brief. The object of the attack had failed. The funds of the bank were intact. Six of the robbers were in flight, two of them wounded. In front of the bank lay the dead horse, the first victim of the fight. Near by was the body of Clel Miller, and a half-block away, on the other side of the street, that of Stiles. Of the three deaths, that of the horse alone moved the pity of the spectators. On every hand were shattered windows, the work of the vicious revolvers; while hitching-posts, doors, window-frames and store-fronts were scored with bullets. Heywood lay on the bank-floor, where he had [pg 39] fallen at the post of duty. Bunker was in the hands of the surgeons. All the bells of the town had been set ringing. People came hurrying to the scene from every direction. Excited preparations were making to pursue the escaping robbers.

The scenes that followed showed that there were heroines as well as heroes in the community. While the first wild rumors of the affair were rife, and it was believed that scores of marauders had invaded the town, and that general pillage might be expected, ladies went to the public school and to the girls' dormitory of Carleton College, to give warning of the impending danger. One of the teachers in the public school was the wife of Mr. Bunker, the wounded teller. From different sources she received information first that he was wounded and then that he was killed. Crediting the least alarming statement, she first made arrangements for the care of her pupils, and then started to find her husband. Fortunately she met a friend with a carriage, who took her to the doctor's office where Mr. Bunker was receiving surgical care. Mrs. Heywood's first intimation of her husband's death was received by accident, and in a painfully abrupt manner. Being at her house on the west side of the river, at a considerable [pg 40] distance from the scene of the tragedy, she chanced to hear one neighbor shout the news to another across the street. President Strong of Carleton College had already started at the request of friends, to break the intelligence to her, when he learned that his errand was needless. The body was placed in a carriage and supported in the arms of President Strong, while it was driven to the Heywood residence. Mrs. Heywood showed herself worthy to be the wife of such a man. She bore the awful blow with the greatest calmness; and when she heard how he met his death, she said, “I would not have had him do otherwise.”

The dead robbers received attentions of quite another sort. The two bodies were placed in an empty granary, where they remained during the night. The news of the raid had been telegraphed all over the country; and the evening trains brought crowds of curious people, eager to see and hear everything pertaining to the affair. The next day the number of visitors was so largely increased and the desire to see the dead bandits was so great, that the bodies were brought out into the open square, which was soon packed with people. Among the visitors from other town were sheriffs, police officers and private citizens who had come to join in the pursuit of the escaped robbers.

That afternoon the county coroner, Dr. Waugh of Faribault, held an inquest on the three bodies, and a verdict was found according to the facts: “That J. L. Heywood came to his death by a pistol-shot fired by an unknown man who was attempting to rob the First National Bank of Northfield;” “That the two unknown men came to their death by the discharge of firearms in the hands of our citizen in self-defence, and in protecting the property of the First National Bank of Northfield.”

The grief and indignation over the death of Mr. Heywood were intense. He was a man greatly respected in the community, was prominent in church and business life, and at the time of his death was the City Treasurer and also the Treasurer of Carleton College. On Sunday, the 10th of September, two funeral services in honor of the murdered man were held in Northfield. In the morning came the public service in High-School Hall, the largest auditorium in the city. The place was packed, notwithstanding the excessive rain and mud then prevailing. The introductory exercises were conducted by the Rev. Messrs. Gossard and Utter, the pastors of the Methodist and the Baptist churches, and the funeral address was [pg 42] delivered by the Rev. D. L. Leonard, pastor of the Congregational Church, the regular church services of the day being omitted. The admirable address of Mr. Leonard has been preserved in a neat pamphlet, entitled, “Funeral Discourse on Joseph Lee Heywood,” published by Johnson and Smith, Minneapolis, and is a valuable contribution to the literature of this subject. As much of its biographical and historical matter is substantially covered by the present narrative, it need not be reproduced; but some extracts relating to Mr. Heywood's personal character may properly be quoted, as showing the estimation in which he was held by one who not only knew him well, but was voicing the sentiments of the community to which and for which he spoke.

“Mr. Heywood was, beyond most men, modest and timid. He shrank from the public gaze; and, considering his high gifts and his standing in the community, he was retiring almost to a fault. He set a low estimate upon himself. He would not own to himself, did not even seem to know, that he was lovable and well-beloved. He courted no praise and sought no reward. Honors must come to him unsought if they came at all. He would be easily content to toil on, out of sight and with service unrecognized, but in every [pg 43] transaction he must be conscientious through and through, and do each hour to the full the duties of the hour”.

“Yes, something such a one as this walked our streets, worshipped in our assemblies, and bore his share of our public burdens, for ten years. And so dull is human appreciation, that had he ended his days after the ordinary fashion of humanity, it is to be feared his worth had never been widely known. But not so now, since, as I may almost say, in the sight of thousands he has been translated that he should not see death, and was caught up from earth to heaven as in a chariot of fire. Surely we cannot forget that spectacle to our dying day. The glory of his departure will cast back a halo of glory over all his career. We shall re-read the record, as he made it, with sharpened vision. Besides, some of the virtues in which he excelled, such as integrity, moral courage, steadfastness in pursuing the right, in the tragic circumstances attending the close of his life, found their supreme test not only, but their sublime climax as well. The charm lies in the perfect harmony existing between the acts of the last hour and the conduct of all the life that went before.”

“For, for what, I pray you, was man made but to do his duty? to be brave and true, reckless of results? And what is life worth, I wonder, if to be preserved only at the price of cowardice and faithlessness?…Surely to him that is gone life as the purchase of dishonor would have been an intolerable burden…Whoso consents to stand on duty, in the army, on the railway train, in the banking-house or store, must do it with open eyes, ready to take the consequences, fully determined, whatever befall, to play the man.…When so many are corrupt and venal, are base and criminal in the discharge of public duties, the spectacle of such a life as we have looked upon is worth far more to society than we can well reckon up. And if, as a result of last Thursday's events, those just entering upon life, and we all, shall be warned of the evil and curse of transgression, and be reminded of the surpassing beauty of honor and faithfulness, and in addition shall catch an enthusiasm of integrity, it will go no small [pg 45] way to compensate for the terrible shock that came to this city, and for the agony that has fallen upon so many hearts…We know today that public and private worth are still extant, and that the old cardinal virtues are still held in honor. We need no lantern to find a man.”

In the afternoon President Strong, assisted by other clergymen, conducted the funeral service proper at Mr. Heywood's late residence, and paid an equally cordial testimony to the character of the man and to the high quality of heroism which he had displayed. Dr. Strong was able to speak from the point of view of personal friendship and from that of official relation, having been Mr. Heywood's pastor at Faribault in former years, and having been more recently associated with him in connection with the College. It was in a casual conversation which they had held but a few days before the tragedy that Mr. Heywood dropped the remark which showed that he had already decided how he would meet such an ordeal if it ever came to him. The President had been inspecting the new time lock which had just been placed upon the door of the vault. The circumstance recalled to his mind the famous St. Albans bank-raid, which had especially interested him [pg 46] through his personal acquaintance with the victimized cashier. Having spoken of the course pursued by the raiders in that case, he said, in mere playfulness, to Mr. Heywood, “Now if robbers should come in here and order you to open this vault, would you do it?” With a quiet smile, and in his own modest way, Mr. Heywood answered, “I think not.” Neither of them dreamed how soon and with what tragical emphasis he would be called to test that resolution.

Mr. Heywood was buried in the Northfield cemetery, at the southern extremity of the city, where his remains still rest and where an unpretentious monument marks his grave.

In an obscure corner of the same cemetery, at night, with neither mourner nor funeral rites, two boxes were buried, supposed to contain the bodies of the dead robbers. No one took the trouble to ascertain the genuineness of the proceeding, or to guard the grave from desecration. That the bodies of criminals belong to anatomical science, is a prevalent opinion. That these criminals were not too good for such a purpose, was readily conceded. That they somehow found their way to a certain medical college, and that one of them was subsequently rescued from its fate by friends, are said to be facts of history.

CHAPTER VI. PURSUING THE FUGITIVES.

While the excitement over the tragedy was at its height, and the inquests and the funeral services over the dead were in progress, the escaped robbers were not forgotten.

They had left Northfield by what is known as the Dundas Road, leading to the town of that name, three miles to the south. Their original plan had been to go westward, over the route by which they had come, and to stop at the telegraph office on their way, and destroy the instruments, in order that the news of the raid might not be spread till they were out of reach in the great forest tract lying in that direction. But, as they afterwards said, finding it “too hot” for them in that part of the town, they were glad to escape by any route they could find; while the telegraph was publishing their deeds and their descriptions in every direction. Dundas being the nearest place at which they [pg 48] could cross the Cannon River, they made all possible speed toward it, six men on five horses. They rode abreast, like a squad of cavalry, taking the whole road, and compelling everyone they met to take the ditch. Meeting a farmer with a good span of horses, they stopped him and helped themselves to one of the horses, for the use of Bob Younger, who had been riding behind his brother Cole. A little farther on they “borrowed” a saddle for him of another farmer, representing themselves to be officers of the law in pursuit of horse thieves,—a pretense which they made much use of during their flight. As soon as possible they got back into their former route, where they were once more on somewhat familiar ground. The death of Miller had deprived them of the guide upon whose knowledge of the country they had depended. The loss of their trained and high-bred saddle-horses was perhaps a still more serious calamity,—a loss which they were not able to make good with any of the farm-horses stolen one after another. Their rush at full speed through Dundas caused a sensation; but, owing to the absence of the telegraph operator, the news of the raid had not been received, and they were not molested. Millersburg, where some of them had spent the previous night, was reached about [pg 49] half-past four. They were recognized by the landlord who had entertained them, but they were still in advance of the news of their crime and far in advance of their pursuers. They rode hard, sparing neither themselves nor their beasts, although Bob Younger's arm was causing him much suffering. His horse fell under him, breaking the saddle-girth, and was abandoned in disgust, Younger again mounting behind one of his companions. Another horse was seized in a similar manner, regardless of the protests of his owner; but the animal balked so obstinately that he too had to be abandoned. Thus began a dreary two-weeks flight, which grew more and more dismal day by day, as the fugitives skulked from place to place, now riding, now walking, now hiding, in a region where, as they too well knew, every man's hand was against them. Nature and Providence seemed to be against them, too. A cold, drizzling rain set in the day after the raid, and continued almost incessantly for two weeks. The way of the transgressor was hard, and it grew harder at every step.

The pursuers were after them. Before the robber-cavalcade was out of sight of the scene of their raid, almost before the smoke of the battle had passed away, men were running for [pg 50] their guns and horses, to join in the chase. The first movements were made under intense excitement, and were necessarily irresponsible and futile. But more deliberate measures were soon taken. Mr. J. T. Ames called for volunteers for a systematic pursuit, and telegraphed to the state capital for aid. Sheriffs, detectives, chiefs of police and scores of private citizens promptly responded. As soon as practicable a small army of pursuers was organized, and systematic plans for their transportation and sustenance were perfected.

Three times on Thursday afternoon advanced detachments of this force encountered the fugitives. First a couple of volunteer scouts, mounted, by a singular coincidence, on the horses of the dead robbers, came within sight of the band a they were seizing the farmer's horse on the Dundas Road. But as the robbers were six to the scouts' two, the latter did not venture an attack, but contented themselves with trailing their game until reinforcements should arrive. Again, at Shieldsville, fifteen miles west of Northfield, a squad of Faribault men had arrived in advance of the pursued by taking a shorter road. But not knowing how close at hand the bandits were, they had gone within doors, leaving their guns outside, when the raiders suddenly appeared [pg 51] before the door, from which they did not permit their unarmed pursuer to issue, but coolly watered their horses at an adjacent pump, shot a defiant volley of bullets into it, and went on their way. The out-witted scouts quickly regained their guns, and being reinforced by a dozen or more local recruits, hastened after the robbers. The band was overtaken in a ravine about four miles west of Shieldsville, where the two forces exchanged some long-range shots, without effect on either side; and the robbers escaped into the thick woods beyond.

While these preliminary contests were taking place, the more systematic campaign was arranged and inaugurated. Before Thursday night two hundred men were in the field, and on Friday five hundred. Other hundreds still joined the chase later on, swelling the number at one time to at least a thousand. It is impossible to give a list of those engaged, or to do justice to the zeal, the determination and the endurance that they showed. Among those who were prominently engaged, either in organizing the forces or in conducting operations in the field, may be mentioned Mayor Solomon P. Stewart of Northfield, Sheriff Ara Barton and Geo. N. Baxter, Esq., of Faribault, chiefs of police King [pg 52] of St. Paul and Munger of Minneapolis, Detectives Hoy and Brissette, and many others. Of the men under them, several were experienced officers, and not a few were veteran soldiers. There were also, of course, in so large and hastily-mustered a force, very many who had no fitness for the service, either in personal qualities or in equipment, and no conception of the requirements of such a campaign. They came armed with small pistols and old fowling-pieces of various degrees of uselessness, and utterly without either judgment or courage. Their presence was a source of weakness to the force. Their foolish indiscretions embarrassed and defeated the best-laid plans; and their failure at critical moments and places to do what they had been depended upon to do made them worse than useless,—worse than enemies. Many went into the service from mercenary motives. Large rewards for the capture of the robbers dead or alive were offered by the Northfield bank, the Governor of the state and the railway companies; and this inducement drew into the ranks of the pursuers much poor material. These statements need to be made, not so much by way of censure upon the inefficient as in justice to the better members of the force, and as an explanation of some of the vexatious delays [pg 53] and failures of the campaign. For, while it constantly suffered from the presence of these mercenaries and blunderers, it did not lack, from its first day to its last, a nucleus of brave, keen-witted, cool-headed, determined men, whom nothing could daunt or discourage. And the best of them were not too capable for the work. Two objects were to be accomplished,—the retreat of the fugitives was to be cut off, and they were to be hunted down and captured. To secure the first, picket-lines were thrown out in advance of them, covering every route which they could possibly take, and especially guarding roads, bridges and fords. To secure the second, scouting parties were put upon their trail, to follow them from place to place, and to explore the country far and near in search of them. It was no holiday excursion. They were in a vast forest tract known as the Big Woods, broken here and there by clearings and by settlements great and small, but embracing also wide area of uncut timber, full of dense thickets and ravines, and abounding in lakes, streams and swamps. The weather made difficult trailing, as tracks and other signs were soon obliterated; and the nature and extent of the ground to be covered rendered it impossible to keep the picket-line strong at all [pg 54] points. The rain and the mud, the dripping forests, the swollen streams, the softened fields, multiplied the hardships of the pursuers. Their very numbers caused confusion. They were for the most part unable to recognize with any certainty either the robbers or one another or to tell whether some squad of horsemen in the distance were friends or foe. The bandits were shrewd enough to take advantage of this doubt. It was their favorite trick to pass themselves off as a sheriff's posse in pursuit of the bank-robbers. Under this subterfuge they inquired their way of unsuspecting people, obtained provisions, secured information about the position and movements of their pursuers, and repeatedly supplied themselves with fresh horses. But this is in advance of our story.

We left the robbers in their Thursday night's hiding-place in the woods beyond Shieldsville. Thence on Friday they moved first westward and then southwestward, in the direction of Waterville. Coming to a ford of the Little Cannon River, guarded by three men poorly armed, they were fired upon and turned back into the woods. Finding shortly afterward that the guard had withdrawn, they returned to the ford, crossed over, and disappeared in the forest beyond. Thus [pg 55] the picket line which had been so laboriously posted was broken at its weakest point.

The news of the escape was immediately carried to those in command, a new picket-line was thrown out in advance of the robbers, and the pursuer pressed the more eagerly after them. The whole region was now aroused. The telegraph was kept constantly busy, flashing items of fact, and a good many items of fiction, to and from the field of operations. The railways did good service in transporting men to accessible points; but the flight and the pursuit were chiefly out of the range of towns, telegraphs or railways, in the heart of the forest.

Pushing on into the township of Elysian, the robbers found themselves in a labyrinth of lakes and swamps, where it seemed easy to prevent their escape. At an isolated farm they exchanged two of their exhausted horses for fresh ones, against the owner's protest. In the evening they made a similar exchange in an out-of-the-way pasture without consulting the owner. Late Friday night they went into camp between Elysian and Gentian Lake. The stolen horses were now turned loose, and all returned to their masters. The remaining horses were tied to trees; a sort of tent was made by spreading blankets over some [pg 56] bushes; and under this the fugitives spent the rainy night.

On Saturday morning they abandoned their horses altogether, tied their blankets about their bodies with the bridles, and, though already lame and disabled, continued their journey on foot. The horses were found three days later, one of them still tied to the tree, the other two having gnawed off their halters and escaped. The robbers now proceeded more circumspectly. The dash and daring of their previous course were exchanged for the stealth and caution more befitting their condition. They went no farther on Saturday than to find a hiding-place on an island in the middle of the swamp, where they encamped for the day. After dark they took up their journey, marched slowly all night, and at daylight on Sunday morning again halted, near the village of Marysburg, whose church-bell they could hear from their camp in the woods. Passing around Marysburg, they next encamped four miles south of that village, so slow was their progress and so short their marches. Nine miles west of this camp, and within two or three miles of Mankato, they found a deserted farm-house in the woods, where they spent Monday night, Tuesday and Tuesday night, having advanced less than fifty miles in five days.

Even at this rate they had distanced their pursuers, who did not suspect that they had abandoned their horses, and who, confident that no mounted cavalcade had passed their lines, were still searching the swamps and bottoms about Elysian. This delusion was painfully dispelled on Tuesday morning by the discovery of the half-starved horses and the deserted camp. The robbers had stolen away on foot, and had at least a three-days start. This was regarded as evidence of the hopelessness of the chase. The fugitives were no doubt far away, and in what direction no one could conjecture. A large proportion of the pursuers, including many of the most efficient leaders, therefore gave up the hunt and returned to their homes. Even some authentic reports from persons who had caught glimpses of the robbers near Mankato were scouted as absurdly incredible.

Soon, however, further news was received which could not be disputed, and which at once aroused fresh interest in the chase. On Tuesday the robbers, it seemed, had invited themselves to breakfast at the house of a German farmer. On Wednesday morning they had captured another farmer's hired man in the woods, and after binding him, extorting information from him, threatening [pg 58] to kill him, and finally swearing him to secrecy, had let him go. Believing that a bad promise was better broken than kept, he had immediately reported the incident to his employer, who hastened with the news to Mankato, whence the telegraph sent it everywhere. Excitement was at once renewed. The disbanded forces hurried back, and hundreds of fresh recruits joined in the chase. A thousand men were soon on the ground, and a new campaign was organized under the direction of Gen. Pope of Mankato. Again patrols and searching parties were sent out, and every possible avenue of escape was guarded night and day. But again the fugitives escaped, not so much by virtue of their own cunning as through favorable accidents and the inefficiency of the guards on duty. Part of them crossed the railroad bridge over the Blue Earth River during Wednesday night. Two others, mounted on a stolen horse, passed the picket-line near Lake Crystal on Thursday night. These last were challenged, fired upon, and probably wounded by a brave young fellow, named Richard Roberts, whose sleeping companions had left him to hold the pass alone. The horse threw his riders and ran away, and they escaped in the darkness to the adjacent field, one of them leaving his hat behind him.

The band had now divided, Pitts and the three Youngers forming one division, and the two Jameses the other. It is believed to have been the James brothers whom Roberts fired upon. Continuing their flight, they stole a fine span of grey, on which they mounted bareback. This capture was a most fortunate one for them, and enabled them to make rapid progress and to assume again the role of officers in pursuit of criminals. They had no difficulty in getting food and information from unsuspecting people, who found only too late how they had been imposed upon. The two men went almost due west during the next forty-eight hours, travelling day and night at the utmost practicable speed, and making eighty miles with scarcely a halt. On Sunday, September 17th, they crossed the Minnesota line into what is now South Dakota. That evening they took the liberty of exchanging their over-driven greys for a span of blacks, one of which proved to be blind in one eye and the other in both. Not finding these satisfactory, they exchanged them in turn, in the small hours of Monday morning, for another span of greys. They now turned southward; passed through Sioux Falls; exchanged salutations with the driver of the Yankton stage, and clothes with a Sioux City doctor; and quietly pursued their [pg 60] flight by a route and to a destination best known to themselves.

They had not been permitted to make this escape without interference. No sooner was it known that they had gone through the picket-line than scouts were sent out in every direction, to overtake or intercept them. The best men in the field took up the trail. The most comprehensive measures were adopted for their capture. But owing perhaps to the unexpected celerity of their movements, so different from the previous methods of the gang, and to unforeseen slips and miscalculations, they succeeded in eluding their pursuers, most of whom abandoned the chase at the Dakota line.

This episode had entirely diverted attention from the rest of the band, as it was not then known that a division had taken place; and when the two horsemen were finally lost track of, the general supposition was that the whole band had escaped. Some persons, indeed, believed that the four unaccounted for were still in the neighborhood in which they had last been seen. The disreputable house near Mankato, already referred to as the place where two of the robbers were known to have been on the night of September 3d, was searched, and many suspicious characters in [pg 61] various places were arrested and investigated. This vigilance resulted in securing some criminals, including two notorious horse-thieves, but it discovered no clue to the bank-robbers.

The mortification of the pursuers was intense; and the denunciations heaped upon some of them and the ridicule upon all was a bitter reward for their two weeks of hard service. The failure of their campaign could not be denied. The only consolation they had was in reflecting that they had done their best, and in joining in the general laugh at their own expense. The robber hunt was the great joke of the season.

CHAPTER VII. A FAMOUS VICTORY

Thursdays were notable days in the robber calendar. On Thursday, September 7th, the attack upon the bank was made. On Thursday, the 14th, the trail of the main band was found and lost in the Minnesota valley beyond Mankato; and on the evening of that day the two horsemen went off on their tangent, drawing almost the entire force of the pursuer after them. On Thursday, the 21st, the public was again electrified by the news that the remaining four, who had also been supposed to have escaped, were yet in the state and had been located in the neighborhood of Madelia.

Madelia is a small village in Watonwan County, and on the Watonwan River, about 24 miles southwest of Mankato. One of the principal features of the surrounding country is a chain of picturesque lakes lying a few miles north of the town; while about five miles southwest of the [pg 63] lakes ran the north fork of the Watonwan River, destined to be as famous in the closing scenes of the raid as the Cannon had been at its beginning.

Madelia was one of the towns visited by the robbers in their preliminary survey. About two weeks before the robbery, Cole Younger and one other of the band spent a Sunday at the Flanders House in that place. They asked many questions of the landlord, Col. Vought, and excited some curiosity in the community. Younger expressed his admiration of the adjacent lake region, with whose geography he seemed to have made himself familiar. When the bank-raid occurred, a few days later, Col. Vought immediately understood who his guests had been, and did not doubt that Younger's interest in the topography of the neighborhood had reference to a line of retreat. And when guards were being placed throughout the region to intercept the robbers in their flight, Col. Vought advised guarding a certain bridge between two of these lakes, at a point of which Younger had made special mention, and by which any one acquainted with the region would be sure to pass. This counsel was followed, and Col. Vought himself, with two others, guarded the bridge for two nights.

A few rods from this bridge lived a Norwegian [pg 64] farmer named Suborn, with his wife and his son Oscar, an intelligent and active lad about seventeen years of age. As the men kept watch at the bridge in the evening, Oscar would come down and sit with them, talking of the robbers and the robbery, and forming in his mind a pretty distinct idea of the appearance and the tactics of the outlaws. He repeatedly expressed the wish that he might meet them and have a shot at them with his father's old gun. When the band was supposed to have escaped, and the guards were withdrawn, Col. Vought charged Oscar to keep a sharp lookout, and if he saw any fellows that he thought might be the robbers, to come into Madelia and tell the Colonel. This the boy promised to do.

On the morning of September 21st, while Oscar and his father were milking the cows, two men walked by, bidding Oscar a civil good morning as they passed. Something in their appearance instantly convinced the boy that they were the bandits; and he ran to his father and said, “There goes the robbers.” His father scouted the idea, and bade him go on with his milking. But the conviction grew upon the boy as he milked, and he soon set down his pail and ran to look after the men, making inquiries of the neighbors and freely expressing his views concerning them. [pg 65] When he returned to the house, he learned that the men he had seen and two others had been there asking for food, and saying that they were fishermen. Oscar insisted that they were the robbers, and after many objections on his father's part, finally got permission to take a horse and go and tell people what he had seen.

He instantly started for Madelia, seven or eight miles away, urging the old farmhorse to the top of his speed, and shouting to every body he passed “Look out! The robbers are about!” but finding nobody to believe him. A short distance from Madelia the horse fell down, throwing the excited rider into the mud; but he was soon up and a way again faster than ever.

Entering Madelia, he rode straight to the Flanders House, according to his promise to Col. Vought. The latter was standing on the porch of the hotel when the messenger dashed up, boy and horse equally out of breath and both of them covered with mud. A few questions sufficed to convince the Colonel that the boy knew what he was talking about, and he immediately siezed his gun, mounted his horse, and started for the Suborn farm. Sheriff Glispin had come up during the conversation with Oscar, and also joined in the chase. Dr. Overholt, W. R. Estes and S. J. [pg 66] Severson did the same. These five went in company. C. A. Pomeroy heard the news and hastened after them. G. A. Bradford and Capt. W. W. Murphy followed hard, and reached the field in time for effective service. From St. James, a neighboring town, to which the telegraph had carried the news, came G. S. Thompson and B. M. Rice, most of their neighbors being too incredulous or too indifferent to join them. In the immediate vicinity of the robbers all was excitement, and people were gathering in greater and greater numbers as the facts became known.

The first detachment from Madelia had no difficulty in learning where the robbers were, and lost no time in reaching the locality. The band was soon descried, making its way on foot through what is known as Hanska Slough. Sheriff Glispin called upon them to halt; and as they paid no attention to his demand, he and his men fired upon them.

The robbers ran until they were out of sight behind a knoll, and before their pursuers came up with them had crossed Lake Hanska, a considerable body of water. The Madelia men, finding some difficulty in getting their horses through the water, separated, part of them going up stream and part down, in search of crossings. Reaching [pg 67] the other side, Col. Vought and Dr. Overholt again caught sight of the robbers, and the Doctor fired at them, with so good an aim as to hit the stick with which Cole Younger was walking. Sheriff Glispin and his two companions now came up from the other direction. Seeing that the robbers were making for a herd of horse on an adjacent farm, the Madelia men intercepted the movement, and for their pains received a volley from the enemy's revolvers, the bullets flying thick about the heads of the pursuers, though at pretty long range, and one of them grazing Glispin's horse.

Thus foiled, the bandits went down to the river-bank, opposite the house of Andrew Anderson, and telling him that they were in pursuit of the bank-robbers, ordered him to bring his horses over to them. The old ruse did not work. Instead of putting his horses at the service of the band, the shrewd farmer ran them off in the opposite direction. Foiled again, the men went up the river to a ford, crossed over, and came down through the Anderson farm to a granary, where they seemed about to make a stand; but changing their plan, they made one more effort to supply themselves with horses. Mr. Horace Thompson and his son, of St. Paul, were hunting [pg 68] in the neighborhood, and had two livery teams belonging to Col. Vought, of Madelia. Spying these horses, the robbers made a rush for them, but the Thompsons promptly exchanged their light charges for wire cartridges loaded with goose shot, and prepared to give the free-booters a warm reception. The free-booters did not care to risk the encounter, and turning back, took refuge in the brush in the river-bottom. Mr. Thompson proposed to some of those present to go in after them and hunt them out; but the armed force then present was not thought to be strong enough for such a movement.

The robbers were now hemmed in upon all sides. On the south was a high bluff, curving slightly outward to enclose the low bottom-land at its base. On the north was the Watonwan River, washing the bluff on the left, then swinging away from it in a double curve, and then back toward the bluff again. A rude triangle was thus enclosed, some five acres in extent, nearly level, open in some places, but for the most part covered with an almost impenetrable growth of willows, box-elders, wild plums and grapevines.

The robbers having been driven to cover in these thickets, the next effort was to prevent their escape. A considerable number of people had by [pg 69] this time collected, some on one side at the river and some on the other. Glispin and Vought went down to the lower end of the ravine and posted guards on the bluffs to watch that point. Meantime Capt. Murphy had arrived, and at once took similar precautions on the other side of the river. But they had no intention of waiting for the robbers to come out, or to give them a chance to escape, as they had so often done, under cover of darkness. Capt. Murphy, having made his picketline secure on the north side of the river, came around to the south side, where some of his Madelia neighbors and other resolute men were gathered, and proposed that they go into the brush and rout out the bandits. A number seemed willing to join him in this attempt; but the list was much reduced when they heard his startling instructions as to the method of procedure. Moreover some of the best men on the ground had been assigned to guard duty, and were not available for this service. In a few minutes, however, six brave fellows stood by his side, ready to go wherever he would lead them.

The roll of this Spartan band of seven is as follows: Capt. W. W. Murphy, Sheriff James Glispin, Col. T. L. Vought, B. M. Rice, G. A. Bradford, C. A. Pomeroy, S. J. Severson. Capt. Murphy formed his men in line, four paces [pg 70] apart, ordering them to advance rapidly but in line, to keep their arms ready, observe the front well, and the instant the bandits were discovered concentrate the fire of the whole line upon them.

They advanced promptly across the eastern side of the triangle, from the bluff to the river, and then, turning to the left, followed the river's course, with the line at right angles with it. They had advanced some fifty or sixty yards in this direction, when they discovered the robbers, crouching and almost concealed in a thicket of vine-covered willows and plumtrees. At the same instant one of the robbers fired. It was the signal for a general fusilade on both sides. Firing was rapid and at close range, the two forces being not more than thirty feet apart at the center of the line, and all heavily armed. The battle was sharp but brief. Again, as in the Northfield fight, the palm of marksmanship was with the citizens and not with the professional crack-shots. Mr. Bradford had his wrist grazed by a ball as he raised his rifle for his first shot. Another ball grazed Mr. Severson. Another still struck Capt. Murphy in the side, and glancing on a brier-root pipe in his pocket, lodged in his pistol-belt. With these exceptions not a man in the party was touched. Of the robbers, on the other hand, Bob Younger was wounded in the breast; his brother James had five wounds; [pg 71] Cole had eleven, and Pitts was dead, having been hit five times. When Capt. Murphy ordered firing to cease, and called upon the robbers to surrender, Bob Younger was the only one who could respond. “I surrender,” said he, “They are all down but me.” As he rose to his feet, at the command of his captors, the movement was not understood by the guards on the bluff, and they fired at him, wounding him slightly; but Capt. Murphy immediately checked the untimely attack.

The arms of the robbers were taken from them, and they were placed in a wagon and taken to Madelia in the custody of the sheriff, escorted by their captors as body-guard, and by a miscellaneous company of those who had been directly or indirectly connected with the engagement. A mile from town they met another company of people who had come by special train from other towns where the news of the reappearance of the robbers had been received. The visitors found themselves too late to take part in the capture, the honor of which belonged solely to local heroes; but they could join in the general rejoicing and help to swell the triumphal procession. As the returning throng entered Madelia, it was received with great demonstrations of joy, to which the wounded bandits responded by waving their hats.