CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTORY
Never did the town of St. Joseph, in the State of Missouri, pass through more stirring excitement than on the afternoon of April 16, 1860.
Every man, woman and child seemed to feel the pulsing in the air. Most of the people were on the street, though hundreds of mothers and daughters were at the upper windows, on the alert that something which was expected should not elude them. The men talked together in earnest voices, sometimes moving restlessly over the pavements, glancing at their watches and saying, in those hushed, eager tones which often accompany tense emotion:
“It’s pretty near time! I hope he won’t be late.”
“No fear for Alec; he’s always on time.”
“Poor fellow! he doesn’t look strong,” remarked a sympathizer.
“Alec Carlyle is one of those chaps that you can’t judge by looks; there isn’t a better horseman west of the Alleghanies.”
St. Joseph in those days was not a large town. There was room to hold in comfort most of the population on Third Street, and it was there that nearly all of them had gathered on this soft spring afternoon. Had you been a member of the crowd you would have noticed that the eyes of nearly every one were turned expectantly toward the one-story, brick express office on the east side of the street, between Felix and Edmond Streets. Something was going on inside of that modest structure, but as yet it was veiled from the public. Several men and boys who stood nearest the building tried to peep through the windows, but, unable to do so, intently listened. All that they heard was the occasional stamp of a horse’s feet, and the confused murmur of voices. But it was not hard for them to imagine the scene within.
It was about four o’clock, when a small cannon boomed from the side of the street, two or three doors distant. The report was a signal to the ferry boat to come across from the Ellwood side of the river and await a certain horseman who would soon arrive at the bank.