Why have the James Boys so many friends? Is it because there are so many people disposed to lawlessness? Are the friends of the Jameses, like themselves, all outlaws? If they are not, why do they yet sympathize with them? How can any honest man succor and shelter them? Can it be possible that any one can be so impervious to testimony as to believe these men to be anything but outlaws? These are the questions asked by those who believe that the Boys ought to have been caught long ago, and lay a large part of the blame for their escape from arrest so long on the people of the states where their most notable deeds have been committed. Some persons point to the results obtained in Minnesota, after Northfield, as an evidence that a large part of the population in Missouri, Arkansas, Texas and Kentucky, where their most successful raids have been made, must necessarily be in sympathy with them, if, indeed, they are not in direct collusion with the great outlaws. Such a charge is evidently made by persons who have not examined into the circumstances of the case, and the conditions which have favored them in escaping apprehension by the officers of the law. It will be remembered that the James Boys have committed successful robberies in both Iowa and Kansas, and it will not be claimed by the most prejudiced mind that the people of Iowa and Kansas, resident in the neighborhood where these exploits were committed, were more in sympathy with the marauders than were the people of Northfield and vicinity. And yet the Jameses escaped capture.

Without in any way assuming a defence of the people of the states named above, on account of their failure to capture the outlaws—for they need no service of the kind from us—we may be permitted in this place to state a few facts which may enable cavilers to form a more rational judgment in this matter.

That the Jameses have friends scattered through many states we readily admit. That all those who have a friendly feeling toward them are not in the lower classes of roughs, is undeniable; that some who move in respectable circles of society, and who are above reproach, so far as their individual actions are concerned, are yet disposed to apologize for them, is unfortunately true. But such "friends" as these have nothing to do with obstructing the execution of the law. The Jameses have numerous friends in Missouri, Kentucky, Arkansas, Texas, New Mexico and Colorado. And under like conditions they would have equally as large a list of friends in Illinois, Iowa, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Dakota and Wyoming. Their active, helpful friends are to be found among that class which the law is ever pursuing but never subduing. They are called "thugs" in New York and all the other large cities; and on the border everywhere, the same elements in human nature which create "the thugs, pariahs and roughs," of the urbane populations, produce the desperadoes and road agents of the wilderness regions.

Now the fact is, the Jameses have ranged over the entire country, from the Ohio river to the shores of the Gulf; from the borders of Iowa to the Sierra Madres, and from the Blue Ridge to the Rocky Mountains. Their reputation as daring men and skillful leaders has made them known to all that class of people who are without the pale of society, as that term is applied—and there are members of that class in every community—who at once seek an alliance with such distinguished leaders of their class—the outlaws. The result is, that these people embrace every opportunity to serve such men as Frank and Jesse James. Why has not Pinkerton, with all his ability and resources as a catcher of lawbreakers, caught these men?

The answer is simple enough. They know the country thoroughly; they have, not one, but many places to which they can retreat, and when hard pressed or sorely wounded, they go to their retreats, where they are nursed and cared for until they choose to go away.

Again, there may be, and doubtless are, a few persons who have known the Boys from early childhood—knew their father before them—and afterward remembered the deeds performed by them in a cause which they regarded as right, who are loth to believe that the Boys are brigands and robbers. And then it is certain that some of their "friends" are persons who are free to admit that the Boys have degenerated into lawless marauders, but excuse them on the ground that they were driven to it by the terribly bad treatment which they received at the hands of those who were enemies of the Southern cause in the struggle of long ago. It is barely possible that a limited number of people, whose whole mind and strength were devoted to the success of the South during the great conflict, yet look back with deep regret at the melancholy failure of their efforts, and have apotheosized every man who engaged on that side and fought for the cause which had become sacred in their eyes—a very few persons who belong to that class, representatives of which are to be found everywhere, who can neither forgive nor forget—who only remember that Frank and Jesse James were fighters in that struggle, and hence all subsequent bad conduct cannot exclude them from a place in their affections. This is in accordance with the laws of human nature. All men are not cosmopolitan in their views, and hence, when disasters fell upon a cause which was believed to be right and sacred, the little world in which these persons lived and moved and had their being, suffered a moral convulsion from which it has not yet recovered, and, in their minds, can never recover.

With the social conditions and mental state which enshrouded people like those described above, and rendered them insensible to the requirements of social order, we have nothing to do. Such people are found in all climes now; and such people have lived in all ages since the human family commenced the struggle for existence.

But the "friends" of the Jameses are for the most part persons who, like themselves, have rebelled against the established order of society. They are scattered all over the country, and among that class, from the Rio Grande to the Ohio, the Boys have personal acquaintances and active allies. Even beyond the lofty range of the Rocky Mountains they have confederates in spirit, if not in action. These children of an ill-starred destiny roam over a vast extent of country. And wherever they go, they are likely to find some one who, from some cause or other, open their houses to them and willingly afford them succor and shelter. Some of these men doubtless share with the renowned freebooters the spoils gained in their daring profession.

The "friends" of the Jameses—even those who are active allies and participators in their lawless deeds, are many of them respected in the communities where they belong. Among their neighbors they are known as liberal-minded men of unquestionably good character. Some of them have families who are respected and honored by their associates. Some of them, when at home, are regular in their attendance at church, and liberal in their donations for the support of the ministry. Some affect to patronize the educational interests, while there are others who are promoters of improvements in horticulture, agriculture, and all other movements intended to benefit the communities of which they are members. Who would surmise that these staid and respected members of society are leagued with outlaws? Generally, their evil deeds are committed far away from their places of residence. They are not often mixed up in any affair near by, and when they join the band for the purpose of committing depredations, they always give out that they are about to make a journey in a way directly contrary to that in which they intend to travel.

But the most valuable of the members of the band of friends of the Jameses are those who never go abroad to depredate. They are of infinite service to the Boys. In all their relations with their neighbors and the members of the society with which they are brought in contact, these allies of the brigands are scrupulously exact and strictly upright. The consequence is, no suspicion attaches to their character, and with them the outlaws are safe.

Not only do these "friends" not go abroad to plunder, but when their confederates who "do the work" commit a deed of outlawry in their vicinity, they first conceal the robbers, and then turn out as leaders of the hunters of the outlaws. They are sometimes loudest in their execration of the plunderers, and strongest in their expressions of hatred toward all lawless men. Being good citizens of honorable repute, no one suspects them, and their friends, the robbers, rest until the storm has swept by, and then quietly they ride away. Many of these men are well-to-do; have good farms, live in comfortable houses, and have many fine horses and fat cattle. Of course these valuable allies have a liberal allowance of the brigands' spoils set apart for their use and behoof. It must be borne in mind that these men are residents of regions of comparatively recent settlement, where the antecedents of newly-arrived citizens are not strictly inquired into by those who only arrived yesterday themselves. So long, therefore, as the citizen deports himself as "a clever man," so long will his neighbors implicitly trust him.

Such is the character of the men which Jesse James' fertile brain has called into service; the character of the organization, which all the devices of the shrewdest detectives, all the bravest executors of the law have failed in ten long years of effort, to disintegrate or destroy. The very fact that such an organization does exist, and that Jesse James furnished the brains which summoned it into existence, and has maintained it for so long a time, stamps him as an extraordinary man—one who, under other circumstances, might have become a leader of men, and passed into history along with George Cadoudal, Paoli, and other like actors on the world's wide stage.

The wild, adventurous career of the boys has been wonderful. They loved the road, loved to ride at will over the land, and set at defiance the officers of the law.

Nor have they confined their excursions to the American side of the Rio Grande. Not unfrequently they ride far away over the Sierra Madres into the valley of the lakes; in Coahuila and San Luis Potosi, they are known of many. In some of these expeditions they pass through thrilling experiences and innumerable dangers. Those border rovers of Mexico who have crossed the path of the boys once and have escaped with their lives, evince no disposition to renew hostilities with the "gringo devils," as they affectionately call the American outlaws.

In this chapter we propose to relate some of "the hair breadth escapes" of the daring outlaws in the land of the Otomis. These tales of wild life will not fail to interest the reader.

One time—it was in the spring of 1877—Frank and Jesse James rode down to the bank of the "River of the North." Piedras Negras is a favorite crossing place, both for Mexican cattle thieves and American outlaws. To this point came Frank and Jesse James. The river was high and the crossing difficult. It was not the season for successful raiding, and the enterprising Mexican raiders had turned their attention to the business of revolutionizing their own country. In this pious undertaking they had not met with that degree of success which justified them in rejoicing. The lazaroni, gathered at Piedras Negras, were particularly ill-humored, and the lonely Texan who came in their way could expect nothing better than to be plundered.

Such was the situation of affairs when Frank and Jesse James arrived on the Texas side of the river in front of the wretched Mexican pueblo. The surly "greaser," who acted as the Charon at that point, was even more surly than usual. But the boys had passed that way before, and the ferryman had a vivid recollection that one Estevan Sandoval, who had molested them on one occasion, was now no more in the land of the living. He complied with the usual tedious alacrity of his countrymen to set them across the stream.

There was an unusual number of ill-looking fellows about the place, a fact which did not escape the immediate attention of the boys. There were regular brigands from the passes of the Sierra Madres; thieves from Matamoras, cut-throats from Saltillo; smugglers from all along the border, and rogues of all grades. The boys knew there was "fun ahead."

It must be said to the credit of the Jameses that they neither seek nor run away from a fight. In this case the character of the boys was sustained. They proposed to pass on without stopping. In this benevolent intention they were not destined to succeed. Riding through the square, or plaza, as the Mexicans call it, they passed on toward the country of woods beyond. They had not got out of the straggling village, when a mob of half-drunken, howling Mexicans, mounted on horses, came after them, cursing and firing off their pistols as they came. It would have been well for some of them if they had never beheld the face of a gringo. Doubtless the leaders expected to see the boys use their spurs liberally and make time out of town. In this they were disappointed. The American outlaws were not accustomed to flee before such "outfits." Instead of galloping away, they deliberately halted, and the inevitable pistols were drawn and "the fun began." The Jameses do not have occasion to kill unless they desire to do so, as they can easily disable an enemy without taking his life. In less time than is required to state the incident, four of the foremost of the rabble were on the ground, with broken right arms. The remainder of the crowd turned and rode with all speed through the plaza. Actuated by some wild impulse which sometimes seems to possess them, the Jameses turned and rode back again to the square. It came near proving a fatal ride to Frank. Some of the Mexicans had taken refuge in an adobe house on one side of the plaza, and seeing the daring American outlaws sitting on their horses in the very midst of the place, in an attitude of defiance of all "the brave men" of Piedras Negras, they mustered courage to open fire upon the boys. A perfect shower of bullets was discharged, and one of them cut the brim of the hat worn by Frank James, narrowly missing the side of his head. Then the boys felt that they were in for "a good deal of fun," and all scruple as to killing vanished. They shot to kill, and death was the doom of any greaser who came within their deadly range. Two were killed outright, and then the ill-natured mob that had sought to avenge the death of Estevan Sandoval, fled from the village in terror, leaving the brothers in undisputed possession of the place.

It was not their purpose to remain, and they rode on in a short time. That evening, when they were crossing a stream, swollen by the recent spring rains, a party of brigands in ambush on the opposite bank opened fire upon them, and Jesse received a slight wound in the left shoulder. The boys charged the thicket which had afforded the robbers shelter, and the whole ten broke and fled, not however, before one of their number was made to atone for the hurt which Jesse had received.

This journey into San Luis Potosi, was one fraught with many perils, and only the fate which seems to protect them, enabled them to return into Texas. They met with a singular adventure on this trip.

They had reached Monclova, a large town in Coahuila. Here they found an acquaintance—an old comrade of the Guerrilla times. He had taken up his residence in Mexico, had married a handsome Mexican girl, and had settled down to a quiet life in a strange land. Of course he was glad to see the Boys whom he had not met since they parted in Kentucky, when he was captured and sent to prison. His home was placed at their disposal, and his Mexican wife received them with that cordial hospitality which is a characteristic of her countrywomen. Here they proposed to remain a day or two and rest.

In accordance with the customs of the country, the Mexicanized American gave his old comrades a reception on the following afternoon, or rather evening after their arrival. A reception in Mexico means a ball or fandango. Many of the leading citizens of Monclova attended the reception, for the friend of the Jameses was esteemed a very worthy citizen and respectable gentleman.

Among the guests was a young lieutenant of the Mexican army, and an American long resident in the country, who came from the vicinity of Matehuala. These two men scrutinized the faces of the Boys in a very peculiar manner, and a careful observer could have seen the flushes of anger which ever and anon overspread their countenances. Jesse had noticed their behavior, and called the attention of his brother to the strangeness of their conduct. He was sure that he had seen the American before somewhere, at some time, just when and where he could not remember.

Frank was enjoying himself in the society of a fair senorita, and seemed to attach little importance to his brother's suggestions. But Jesse watched them closely, and became thoroughly convinced that he had met both men before, and he knew that the meeting had been that of enemies.

The lieutenant and his companion did not remain long, but took their departure. There was at that time encamped, in the environs of Monclova, a brigade of the Mexican army, and the regiment to which the lieutenant belonged had barracks near the plaza. On leaving the ball-room, the two men went directly to the headquarters of the regiment, and found there the colonel and lieutenant-colonel. The young officer at once laid before them the knowledge which he possessed concerning the character of the men who were being entertained in Monclova that night. Both men had a score to settle with the Jameses. The account of the American dated back to 1865—that of the young officer only a little more than a year, at which time, unfortunately, in one of the border broils, frequent about that time between Mexicans and Texans, the Boys had killed a brother of the officer.

The superior officers looked with favor on the scheme to arrest the Boys. The more readily, too, did they agree to the plan of capture when informed that the American authorities were offering a reward of $50,000 for the apprehension of these men. It was a bonanza which the impecunious colonels hoped to gain.

Silently as possible a company of eighty men was mustered, and marched to the house, and immediately surrounded it. The merry makers were just in the midst of an evening of enjoyment. Indeed, "there was a sound of revelry by night," and the fair senoritas and chivalrous youths of Monclova were animated by high hopes and dreams of future bliss.

Suddenly there was an interruption. The doors were thrown open, and an officer, accompanied by a guard, strode into the room. The violinist dropped his bow; the dancers stood still; the faces of women blanched, and men quailed before this apparition of war and bloodshed.

The officer stepped briskly to the part of the room where the Jameses were standing, and addressing them in broken English, commanded them to surrender in the name and by the authority of the government of Mexico. Frank and Jesse looked at him with a disdainful, dangerous smile.

Would they surrender without his being under the painful necessity of using force, inquired the officer.

"Never!" The answer was firmly delivered.

The officer turned to the guards, and gave a signal of command for them to move up.

"Stop!" It was Jesse's voice of command. The officer waved the guards to halt.

"We have a proposition to submit. Will you hear it?"

"If it means surrender, yes," replied the officer.

"It is this:" pursued Jesse, not appearing to notice the purport of the officer's reply, "allow these ladies here to retire, and we will discuss the question with you."

"I shall be compelled to take you by force," said the officer.

"Let the ladies retire, I say!" exclaimed Jesse James, in a tone that betrayed his impatience.

The Boys were not surprised without arms. They never lay aside a pair of pistols. They are ever at their sides, and always ready for use. The officer parleyed. He did not desire to begin an affray in the midst of a company of ladies—his instincts as a gentleman revolted against subjecting them to alarm and danger. The house was surrounded; he had ample force to enforce the orders of his superiors; so he said,

"Let the ladies all retire."

The order was given at the door to the guards to to allow the ladies to pass through. The ball-room was soon free from their presence. The men huddled in one corner, and finally were permitted to retire into another room.

"Now," said the officer, "lay down your pistols. I have an ample force to enforce these orders. The house is surrounded; you cannot get away."

The answer he received was a derisive peal of laughter. At the same moment a pistol flashed before the eyes of the officer as he raised his sword to signal his guard. He saw it but for an instant, there was an explosion, and the officer fell dead to the floor. The guard, amazed, rushed forward to succor their fallen leader. They were thrown off their guard. One, two, three deafening reports, and three soldiers lay still, weltering in their gore. Celerity of execution is safety, was ever the motto of the Jameses. The guards who had followed their officer into the house, fled when they saw their comrades fall. The boys rushed out of the house. The soldiers in the street met them with a volley of balls. But they were too much agitated to shoot well. The boys escaped with two or three trifling scratches. They opened fire on the line of guards around the house. Seized with consternation, the soldiers fled from their deadly revolvers. The whole town was excited. The streets began to teem with surging throngs of men, women and children; the alarm drums were beat in the barracks; the soldiers hastily formed in line and marched to the scene of the disturbance. Never had Monclova been so shaken before.

It was too late. The cause of all the hubbub had reached their horses, hastily saddled them, mounted, and were then thundering far away through the dark streets. They did not travel the highways after daylight next morning. But they found a refuge in the mountains, and when the excitement had subsided they went their way.

The ranche of the James Boys furnished a temptation to the Mexican border brigands, which they were in no wise able to resist, even if they had possessed the least particle of that moral sense which enables men to withstand temptation. The Jameses were successful rancheros; they lived out on the confines of the white settlements in Texas. Their fat herds spread over the valleys and ranged over many hills. This wealth of cattle excited the cupidity of the Mexican border banditti. They envied the outlawed boys their goodly possessions; and they were nerved to undertake to appropriate the herds, even if the lives of the owners should be taken in order to compass their wishes.

There was a robber chief of Nueva Leon, who had once been a faithful lieutenant of Cortinas, "the Robber Governor" of the State of Tamaulipas. This fellow, whose name was Juan Fernando Palacios, had achieved a local reputation about Piedras Negras, Eagle Pass, Mier, and other localities on the upper Rio Grande, as a daring freebooter and bloody minded murderer. He had gathered about him a band of men of like disposition with himself—principally fugitives from justice from the neighboring states. This gang of desperadoes numbered more than thirty men, and Palacios resolved to lead them over among the ranches of the Texans. There was much booty to be gained by a successful raid. It was at a season of the year when many herds were being pastured in the valley of the Pecos, and with thirty men and more he fondly hoped that he could come upon, and discomfit all the "cow boys" in that region, and drive away the well conditioned herds at his leisure.

It was in the autumn of 1877. The dry season had withered the grass on the hill slopes and the upland plains. But down in the valleys the grass was green, and the wild flowers bloomed in all the freshness of the spring time. Palacios and his brigands made careful preparations before they set out. There had been a season of quiet on the border. Several months had passed since the last raid was made. The Mexican brigand hoped to take the "cow boys" unawares—surprise them—kill them, and drive away their herds. This was his hope.

Mexican brigands are good night travellers. Indeed, their most important movements are made in the night. During the day time, if possible, they take shelter in the chaparral, and remain quiet until the shades of night fall over valley and plain, and then under the starlight they ride—sometimes accomplishing long journeys in a thinly inhabited country without giving the least information of their presence, so secretly do they move.

It was a lovely evening in October. There was no moon, but the stars shone brightly from the cloudless sky. El Paso was unusually quiet that evening. There was not a fandango in progress in the place; the sound of the violin was not heard within its borders. The senoritas sang no vesper hymns. Palacios and his robber band had gone across the river into Texas, and not many young men remained in El Paso. All night, beneath the silent stars, the mongrel band of the bandit chief rode on toward "the settlements" of the hated, as well as dreaded Texans. Before dawn they found shelter in a patch of chaparral in the valley of an affluent of the Rio Pecos. No one had seen them. Thirty miles and more they had ridden in the direction of the fat herds of the Texans. The day passed away, and once more the curtain of night fell, and the Mexican raiders rode in its shadow. By dawn they had reached the vicinity of a well stocked ranche. A convenient shelter was sought and found near a little stream. The raiders were many miles from El Paso now, and the valleys and the hill slopes, and the lower plains were dotted with great herds of cattle. But the rancheros had not yet discovered the presence of the enemy, and rested in fancied security.

Palacios and his band hovered near the herds all day. Men were sent out to ascertain the number of herdsmen attending the different droves. All this time the horses of the raiders were carefully concealed in a thicket by the bank of the stream. When the evening came on, Palacios was well informed of the locality of all the herds in his immediate neighborhood. Dividing his men into two bands, over one of which he appointed a notorious murderer from Mier, named Jesus Almonte, and assumed command of the other in person. The time appointed for "the stampede" of the herds was ten o'clock at night. At that hour the western herdsmen are almost always sound asleep. Palacios was certain that his presence on the American side of the Rio Grande was not known. He had met no one, and his scouts had reported everything quiet among the herdsmen.

Ten o'clock came. The Mexican robbers, well armed and splendidly mounted, quietly left their covert. Almonte and his band proceeded two and a half or three miles up the stream where a large herd of cattle were corraled. Palacios went down the creek to "stampede" another herd of seven or eight hundred head. The process of "stampeding" is thoroughly understood by the Mexicans. The herdsmen were aroused by the approaching horsemen. But it was too late. The Mexicans were among them, and Almonte's gang killed two of the "cow-boys" at the upper herd, and Palacios' crowd killed one at the lower herd. The "stampede" was complete. The herds were turned toward the Rio Grande, and driven rapidly away. All the remainder of that night, and all the next day, the robbers pressed forward toward their place of concealment and shelter beyond the Rio Grande. As yet, no pursuers had appeared, but Palacios knew well that they were not safe on this side the river. He knew that the avengers were on his track, and he cared not to see the face of a Texan at that time. Coming at night time to the river some distance below El Paso, he crossed over with all his booty, and speedily made himself comfortable among his sympathizing countrymen and countrywomen.

It chanced about that time that Frank and Jesse James rode down toward the Rio Grande to make observations, and enjoy life just beyond the borders of civilization. Being somewhat in the outlaw business themselves, they cared very little for "the borders of civilization," or for that matter, for the interior. While riding, they met one of the sorely disconsolate herdsmen, who told the story which we have related, with many embellishments; for instance, that a band had come out of the south country, killed all the herdsmen in the valley, driven off all the herds, and that he only was left alive to tell of their fate.

To this doleful tale Frank and Jesse James gave good heed, for one of the missing herds had been their property.

The two brothers consulted together as to what could be done under the circumstances. They had been into Mexico on many occasions before, and, although the frightened herdsman had magnified the numbers of the raiders, so that they appeared a mighty host, Frank and Jesse James were not the men to submit tamely to downright robbery. The brothers resolved to pursue the raiders. And so they rode on and on until they came to the Rio Grande.

It was in the early morning. The October sun had not yet appeared above the horizon, but all the eastern sky was refulgent with the coming glories of a lovely day. Frank and Jesse James had ridden far, but their horses were not jaded, and as for themselves, physical endurance is their normal characteristic. They were ready for any desperate adventure, such as they were then engaged in. Only for a moment did they pause when they emerged from the river. Their fire-arms were carefully examined, and then they urged their horses onward. El Paso was silent. The inhabitants had not yet awakened from their slumbers. Palacios and his band, with their stolen herds, had passed on through the village in the direction of the mountains. Their trail through the sand was still fresh. The James Boys rode on. Three miles away they came to the camp. Deeming themselves safe, the Mexican raiders had taken no precautions to guard against surprise. The herds had been corraled, and the bandits, wearied by their long marches, slumbered heavily.

Cautiously approaching the Mexican camp, the two brothers, with that quick perception for which they are distinguished, saw at a glance the situation of the camp and the position of the sleeping robbers. The dreamers were suddenly aroused by the reports of the avengers' pistols. Jesse and Frank James were in their midst, and dealing death to the miscreants ere they could grasp their weapons. Some who dreamed were sent to their account before the phantasy had cleared from their brains. With a death-dealing pistol in each hand, they fired with incredible rapidity, and at each discharge an unfortunate wretch fell to rise no more. Terror-stricken, the robbers fled in every direction. Some were arrested in their flight by the unerring aim of the outlawed brothers; and some more fortunate escaped to the mountains with life only, everything being left behind in order that they might save it.

The corral was broken up. The Boys are skillful herdsmen, and soon the great tramping drove was turned toward the Rio Grande. Ten dead robbers, stark and still, among the cactus patches, testified to the prowess of the American desperadoes. They passed back through the village. Not a man was visible. They had heard of the fate of their robber friends. Terror-stricken, they had abandoned their homes and fled into the chaparral beyond the hills, which at this point approach the river. The Boys were hungry after their morning's engagement, and halting at the little adobe posado, they ordered breakfast, taking care that it was prepared under their personal supervision, in order that no treachery on the part of their unwilling entertainers should succeed.

The feat which they had accomplished was one of the most daring ever recorded in the annals of border strife. Then, the nonchalant way in which they ordered the trembling inhabitants to minister to their physical comfort, furnished another proof of the admirable nerve of these remarkable men. After refreshing themselves, the Boys, at their leisure, recrossed the Rio Grande with nearly the whole number of cattle which the bandits had driven away.

Desperadoes as they were, Palacios and Almonte were indisposed to surrender the rich prize which they had secured, as they thought, without any effort. The two chiefs had stopped in the village the night previous to the arrival of the Jameses, and were not in the camp at the time of the attack of the Boys. In El Paso, they lay hidden in a heap of hay, while Frank and Jesse regaled themselves with "the best the market afforded." The Mexicans were convinced that a large force of Gringo Diablos were at hand, and they feared for their lives. They waited for the appearance of the squadrons of rangers in vain. Gradually it began to dawn upon their dull comprehension that the whole force of the Gringos numbered just two men. Palacios, Almonte, and a few of their followers rallied some hours after the Boys were on their march over the rolling plains of Texas. They were furious, and boasted of what great things they intended to accomplish. Sometime, toward noon, they cautiously approached the river, reconnoitered, and finally ventured to cross over. There was no enemy in sight, and the twenty-five brigands of the border became valiant, and set out on the trail of the Boys who were marching on with the recaptured herds.

Encumbered as they were, by a vast drove of cattle, their progress was slow. Toward evening the Mexican bandits came in sight. But they did not venture to attack. Hovering on the rear, and galloping along the flanks of the moving herd, the Mexicans made a thorough reconnaissance of the force of Americans. There were just two men, and no more. Emboldened by this knowledge, they approached with a view of "stampeding" the herd. Five well mounted men were sent to engage the Boys while the others advanced on the left flank of the herd. But they did not know the character of the men they sought to kill out there on the plains. Secured to the saddles which they bestrode, each carried a long range sixteen shot Winchester rifle. The bandits came within range. If they ever prayed, the time for prayers had arrived. They were approaching, unwittingly it may be, the margin of the river of death; the black angel hovered over them, the sun of time was being surely extinguished. Detaching their deadly rifles from the fastenings, each singled out his man, took deliberate aim, touched the trigger, and instantaneously two Mexican robbers fell to the earth pierced through their hearts. Their comrades marked their fall, and knew the cause. They turned to flee. It was too late. Even as they turned two more of them fell, pierced through and through by the unerring bullets from the steadily aimed rifles of the American outlaws. The other one of the five fled, and succeeded in making his escape.

The Boys fully comprehended the designs of the Mexicans, and Jesse suggested that he would ride to the summit of "the swell" to the left, to see what "those other devils are about."

Riding rapidly up the slope, his horse was soon reined up on the crest of the ridge. There he discovered on the slope below him a party of some fifteen armed men. Bringing his rifle to bear, a Mexican saddle was emptied in an instant. The raiders replied; but their guns would not send a ball so far. They were not less than four hundred yards away. Jesse continued to empty saddles until four men were down. The Mexicans turned and fled, and Jesse gave them a parting salute, which brought down a horse. When he rejoined his brother he remarked sententiously, "Well, I've prepared a feast for the vultures over yonder."

"How many are down?" asked the other.

"Oh, only four men and one horse," he answered, with a grim sort of smile.

The dangerous time for them was the shadowy hours. They knew that all the brigands of that region would take their trail. They were a hundred miles from any certain succor. The Mexican raiders are not to be despised in a night affray. They expected attack, and it is one of the peculiarities of the Boys, that they never sleep when there is danger surrounding them. The severe losses which they had sustained only rendered the pursuers more wary; but they still hovered around. The Boys expected an attack that night. The sun was sinking low in the west, and the brothers were earnestly consulting as to the best means of guarding against the consequences of a night attack.

"See," said Frank, "away there on that ridge whose top the sun is gilding! Are those moving objects men on horseback, or a herd of buffalo? What do you think?"

The brothers halted. Since their removal to Texas they never ride abroad without carrying with them a field glass each. They now raised their glasses and looked long and earnestly at the dark objects moving between them and the horizon.

"They are mounted men," said Jesse.

"Texans, Mexicans, Lipans or Commanches? Which do you say?" asked Frank.

Jesse looked again. The mounted men were nearly two miles away—a long distance to determine the character of men, or designate their nationality. Long and carefully did he scrutinize the movements of the horsemen.

"Soldiers—Federal soldiers—by Jehovah!" he exclaimed. "Well, I've seen the time that I would not like to see such a company, but I'm confounded glad they've come around this evening. I'll get a nap to-night, anyway."

It was agreed that Jesse should ride forward and inform the officer in command of the presence of Palacios' band of raiders. He spurred his horse forward over the high rolling swells of prairie toward the horsemen, who were also advancing. The Mexicans saw this movement, and saw the horsemen. They at once surmised that a detachment of McKenzie's command was out looking for them, and turning about, they rode hastily back the way they came.

The Boys were left in peace. The detachment of cavalry swept onward in pursuit of the fleeing raiders, and the herd, fatigued by long driving, were indisposed to scatter. The return to the pastures from whence they had been driven was leisurely made. The Boys returned safely to their abode, and Jesse was welcomed by one who worships him as the world's noblest hero.

In the mellow days of September, 1877, a party of seven men came to the neighborhood of Ogallala, Nebraska, and went into camp there. They were "stockmen," they said, and only wished to rest awhile before entering upon the long, wearisome march across the plains to Texas, which lay before them. They had brought droves of cattle from the pasture-prairies of the "Lone Star" state to supply the markets of Chicago and other cities to the east, and it was their intention, according to their statements, to return to Texas to be in readiness for "the spring drive." There was in this party Jim Berry, of Portland, Callaway county, Missouri, an old-time Guerrilla in the days of Anderson; Jack Davis, formerly of the vicinity of Fort Smith, Arkansas, a man of sinister reputation; Billy Heffridge, a Pennsylvanian of no good repute; Jim Collins, a brother of Brad, the well-known Texan desperado, who was killed in an encounter with a sheriff who attempted his arrest, and Sam Bass, the somewhat distinguished outlaw, whose name figures so prominently in the criminal annals of the period between 1865 and 1878. There were two others, the identity of one of whom has never been discovered. Of these, Berry, Collins, Davis, and one other, had sometimes ridden with Frank and Jesse James, and exchanged the civilities of the craft with them. Who the seventh man of the party of "campers at Ogallala" was, the detectives have never been able to discover.

The "stockmen," as they styled themselves, remained in camp near Ogallala for a number of days, and were frequent visitors to the village. Jim Berry had been in business at Plattsmouth, Nebraska, and had made some acquaintances along the road. Among the business men residing at Ogallala, which is the county seat of Keith county, and a station of some importance on the line of the Union Pacific railway, was Mr. M. F. Leach, a gentleman of great mental acuteness, and an excellent judge of men.

One day some of the "cattlemen" came to Leach's store in Ogallala, among them Jim Berry, and purchased a number of red bandana handkerchiefs. Of course nothing was thought of the circumstance at the time, but subsequently the red bandanas afforded "a clue" to the identity of the robbers of a train on the Union Pacific railroad.

Big Springs is a station on the railroad, about twenty-three miles west of Ogallala, nearly on the line between Keith and Cheyenne counties, Nebraska. At this place there is an excellent supply of water, which constitutes its greatest claim to importance, for on other accounts Big Springs possesses little to interest the traveller. One evening—it was the 17th of September—the people of Brule and Ogallala were thrown into a great ferment of excitement on the arrival of the train from the West, bringing, as the conductor and passengers did, a full account of the great robbery of the express car, and all the passengers, at Big Springs station, which event had occurred just after nightfall that same evening. It was a great sensation at the time, and interest in it has not yet ceased to operate on the public mind. A brief account of the robbery, and pursuit and death of several of the robbers, will not be regarded out of place in this volume, inasmuch as some of the robbers had an acquaintance with the principal characters who are the subjects of this work.

The train from the Pacific slope arrived at Big Springs on the evening of September 17th, 1877, a little after nightfall. No sooner had the locomotive come to a standstill at the little station, than a band of seven men, all of whom wore red bandana handkerchiefs on their heads, which fell over and concealed their faces, sprang upon the train with drawn revolvers. Four of the men guarded the engineer, and entered the express car. Wells, Fargo & Co.'s safe contained $62,000 in gold. This was opened, and the contents taken out and deposited in a sack which one of the robbers carried. Another one kept guard over the train's crew, and two men, well armed with heavy revolvers, went through the train to take the purses, watches and jewelry of the passengers. One of the fellows carried a sack, and whenever the other handed him a watch, a pocketbook or some jewelry, he thrust it into the receptacle which he carried along. There were many passengers, and they were on a long journey. Many fine watches, much valuable jewelry, and innumerable pocketbooks were collected in the sack, in a miscellaneous heap. When the golden treasures of the express safe, and the valuables of the passengers were all secured, the brigands released the train and rode away over the plains. The train then proceeded eastward, by Brule and to Ogallala. The particulars of the robbery were detailed, and the inhabitants of those places were aroused by the intelligence. It was late and nothing could be done that night.

The next morning the "stockmen" were in camp as usual, and Mr. Leach and some others of the inhabitants of Ogallala were preparing to hunt the robbers.

Mr. M. F. Leach had performed some amateur detective work, and had exhibited so much acuteness that he was regarded as one of the ablest catchers of lawbreakers in the West. He was at once secured to work up the great train robbery. To him is due the larger share of the credit for tracking down the Big Springs bandits. And the men Leach had to deal with were keen, adroit, and endowed with extraordinary effrontery. We cannot enter into detail concerning his remarkable pursuit of Sam Bass and his companions, from Ogallala. A full narrative would fill a volume. To show the character of the men with whom he had to deal, we will relate an anecdote of a meeting he had with Jim Berry, one of the gang, the morning after the robbery. As before stated, the "stockmen," who were no other than the brigands, had returned to their camp at Ogallala, and were there as if nothing had happened, the morning after the robbery. Leach was preparing to go after the robbers. He encountered Jim Berry, who addressed him in a familiar manner:

"Well, are you going out after those fellows?"

"Yes," said Leach, "that's what I am going to do."

"I wonder what they would give me to go along? I might be of service to them."

"Well, I can say," said Leach, "that you would certainly receive a liberal compensation for any service you may be able to render."

The two men talked together some time, but Berry did not go on the hunt for the train robbers. Mr. Leach proceeded out the road to Sidney, in Cheyenne county, not forgetting on his way to stop off at Big Springs to find, if possible, some clue to the robbers' course after leaving that place. He found part of a red bandana handkerchief, which he secured, and went on to Sidney in a special train which had been provided for his use. A careful examination of the situation in that place was barren of results, and Mr. Leach returned to Ogallala. The "stockmen" had remained in camp two days after the robbery, and then they had marched away—whither—no one knew. Leach had brought with him the piece of red bandana from Big Springs. He was sure the goods had come from his store in Ogallala. While looking about the deserted camp of the "stockmen," Leach discovered the other piece of the bandana which he had brought from Big Springs. The ragged edges of the two pieces fitted exactly. The inevitable inference was that the "stockmen" were the robbers. The direction taken by them was not known, but Leach soon discovered their trail. Then commenced one of the most remarkable pursuits ever known. Leach ascertained that the robbers would probably cross the Kansas Pacific railroad at Buffalo Station, Gove county, Kansas. He was ever on their track, and on many occasions he escaped with his life in a marvelous manner. Once he saw them count the spoils of the robbery, and divide the money, watches and jewelry among themselves. Then he sent a rancheman a long distance, a hundred miles or more, with a dispatch to the commandant at Fort Hayes to have a guard of soldiers at Buffalo. The bandits divided into couples, and pursued their course. At Buffalo, some of the robbers and the soldiers had a conflict, and Billy Heffridge and Jim Collins were killed. Sam Bass, Jack Davis and two others escaped. Jim Berry made toward Missouri. It was ascertained that he would probably return to Callaway county, and detectives were at once hurried into that county and quietly waited around Fulton and Portland for the appearance of "the game."

One day Jim Berry made his appearance at Mexico, in Audrain county, Missouri. It was known that he had been in the Black Hills, and when he went to the bank in Mexico with a large amount of gold coin, principally twenty dollar pieces, to exchange it for currency, the circumstance seems to have aroused no suspicion at the time. Berry then "went on a big bender." While in Mexico he had ordered a suit of clothes from a tailor there. In a few days, information was received by Sheriff Glascock that Jim Berry was known to have been engaged in the Big Springs robbery. Concerning this nothing was said at the time, but the sheriff made all necessary preparations, and patiently abided his time to make an attempt to capture Jim Berry. One day, an old comrade of Berry made his appearance in Mexico, bearing an order on the tailor to "deliver to the bearer" the new suit of clothes which had been ordered by Berry. This fact was at once communicated to Sheriff Glascock by the tailor. The friend of Berry was seized, and persuaded in a manner frequently employed by officers of the law, to reveal the whereabouts of his friend.

The friend of Berry was a man named Bose Kazy. Sheriff Glascock and John Carter were in company when Kazy was seized. The sheriff then called to his aid John Coons, Robert Steele, and a young man named Moore. They then set out, compelling Kazy to act as a guide. It was on Saturday night, October 14, 1877, when the party rode quietly away from Mexico, on their way to Callaway county, to find the lurking-place of Jim Berry, "the best man in Callaway." It was a long ride. Daylight had not dawned on the landscape Sunday morning when the officers arrived within a half-mile of Kazy's house. They did not go to the house to alarm those slumbering there. The officers took Kazy into the woods and bound him to a tree, leaving Robert Steele to guard him. They then secreted themselves in thickets to await results. As the men in the posse were assigned to their respective stations, the sheriff gave the following command:

"Boys, if you see him, halt him; if he shows fight, shoot him; if he runs, shoot him in the legs. Catch him, at all hazards."

Half an hour after giving this order, Sheriff Glascock heard the neigh of a horse about half a mile away, as he judged. The sheriff and Moore then crept cautiously about three hundred yards down the course of a branch. They came to a fence, and crossed over it. They discovered the tracks of a horse, freshly made. They were in a thicket at this time, and listening intently. In a few moments they heard the snort of a horse, apparently not more than fifty yards away. The sheriff then crawled through the thicket about twenty yards toward the spot from whence the sound had proceeded. He was on his knees, and, cautiously peering through the autumn-tinted leaves of the tangled thicket, he saw the back of a horse, about forty yards away. Laying aside his hat, Sheriff Glascock crept twenty yards nearer. He then rose to his feet and saw Jim Berry unhitching the horse, which had been tied to a tree. Berry started to lead the horse in a direction nearly toward Glascock. The sheriff cocked both barrels of the breech-loading gun which he carried, ran about twenty yards and within twenty feet of Berry, and commanded him to halt. Berry, taken by surprise, started on a run. The sheriff then fired. The charge of buckshot passed over the head of the train robber, but in an instant he fired again, and this time seven buckshot took effect in Berry's left leg, below the knee, and he fell to the ground. Glascock sprang forward. Berry was endeavoring to draw a pistol, as he lay writhing on the ground. It was too late; the sheriff was upon him, and, seizing the pistol, he wrested it from the grasp of Berry. Finding himself overpowered, the wounded man, in his helplessness, besought the sheriff to shoot him, as he did not want to live any longer. The officer told him that he did not want to kill him, but that he wanted him to have justice. By this time Moore arrived on the scene. Berry was wounded and defenseless in the hands of the officers of the law.

Sheriff Glascock then summoned the other members of the posse to the scene of the conflict. When they had arrived, Berry was searched. In a belt worn on his person they found five $500 packages of money, and in his pocketbook was found $304; in all, $2,804 were secured. Berry also had a gold watch and chain, a dress-coat, three overcoats and a comforter. He had slept there in the thicket the night before. Afterward, Berry was removed to Kazy's house, and a messenger was sent to Williamsburg for a surgeon.

After taking breakfast at Kazy's, Sheriff Glascock and John Carter proceeded to Berry's house to search for the balance of the money. Arriving there, they asked Mrs. Berry concerning the whereabouts of her husband. She did not know; had not seen him for several days, and she thought he had left the country. The sheriff then showed her Berry's watch and chain. On seeing it, one of the little children exclaimed:

"Oh! I thought that was papa's!"

Poor child! Perhaps it was too young to fully comprehend the tragic meaning of those tokens.

To Mrs. Berry the whole story of the tragedy in the thicket that Sunday morning was repeated. In response, she said,

"I never thought he would be taken alive. He has said a great many times that he would never be taken alive."

Then ensued a scene deeply affecting. The robber had those at home who loved him. The wife and mother began to weep bitterly, and the wailings of her little boy and five little girls, made a scene calculated to touch the deep chords of emotion in the breasts of the stern men, who in the performance of lawful duty had been compelled to inflict all this misery on the family of the robber.

They searched the house, but they found no hoards of money. Then Glascock and Carter returned to Kazy's, a conveyance was procured, and the officer and his posse with their wounded prisoner set out for Mexico, where they arrived late in the evening. Berry was placed in a room in the Ringo House, and received the attention of Dr. Russell, of Mexico. Berry's wounds were painful, and he did not rally from their effects. On Monday, gangrene supervened, and a little before 1 o'clock Tuesday, October 16th, 1877, Jim Berry, one of the robbers of the train at Big Springs, quietly passed over the dark river, and the records of his stormy career were closed forever.

Sam Bass escaped from Buffalo station, and finally, after many thrilling adventures, reached his haunts in Texas. A little more than one year afterward he met his fate in a manner equally as tragic as the event which closed the career of Jim Berry.

Of the seven men who plundered the train and its passengers at Big Springs, Billy Heffridge, Jim Collins, Jim Berry, Sam Bass, and one other, have met violent deaths. The robber who went by the name of Jack Davis has disappeared. The seventh man—the only one whose name was never ascertained by the detectives—succeeded in getting away. Who he was, from whence he came, and whither he went, are, until this day, unanswered questions.

Much speculation in regard to the identity of the seventh man, whom we shall call the Unknown, has been indulged in, and the question has been asked, Was it Jesse James? or was it Jack Bishop, Dave Pool, John Jarrette or Jim Cummings? We have no means of answering such interrogatories. Whoever the Unknown is or was, he has probably not a single comrade of the occasion alive, and is therefore in little danger of being betrayed.

There are people who believe that Jesse James was with the Big Springs bandits. Upon what particular grounds such belief is based, we have been unable to ascertain. He may or may not have been present. Our readers may well be left free to draw their own inferences. But certain it is, a mystery, which perhaps may forever remain such, surrounds the personality of one of the daring raiders who accomplished one of the greatest robberies which has yet taken place on any American railroad.