From Boniface to Bank Burglar; Or, The Price of Persecution / How a Successful Business Man, Through the Miscarriage of Justice, Became a Notorious Bank Looter

by George M. White

I say I believe that they must feel as I did, when, exhausted, staggering, and on the verge of falling down in the mudpool, I finally dragged myself up the incline to the rock, that precious rock, and fell upon its sustaining bosom. I could not have gone a foot farther, for the battle with the treacherous mud bottom had shorn me of all the strength and nerve I possessed. In a moment I would have sunk into the death trap which seemingly yawned for me.

I lay on the rocky shelf for fully five minutes, perhaps longer, ere I could find strength to draw my body entirely from the water. Then, with my clothing hanging like so much lead to my weak frame, and shivering with the chill of the atmosphere until my teeth were chattering, I painfully crawled farther back on the precious support, wondering if, after all my wrong-doing, it had not been cleft for me.

For fully half an hour I had no wish or inclination to stir. It was yet daylight when I finally got myself together, and then for the first time I had leisure to notice my bedraggled appearance. I was a sight to behold, being veneered with a sort of clay wash that rendered me, I’ll warrant, to one fifty feet away, not unlike my surroundings. I was a man of clay, but not of the pure quality, for I found my clothing underneath, after a little vigorous rubbing. So would appear the baser metal through the wash of fine gold, after similar treatment. The only anxiety I felt now was the possibility that the enemy would discover the mine. They might know in the beginning, what I had learned after a terrible experience, that it was an undeveloped coal mine, and, too, they might have a better way of investigating it. I could only hope that they would feel certain no living being would have the temerity to exploit it.

Presently the murmur of voices, which grew more distinct each moment, reached me, and, steadying my nerves as well as I could, I watched and waited for developments. They came quickly, for a crowd of men, armed with muskets and shotguns, passed along the road in my view, and with them were my two associates, Big Bill and Jack Utley. It was easy to note that the latter were prisoners. In the momentary glance I had at them there was no doubt of their identity, and I heartily wished they had come along with me, though not long before I had felt truly gratified for their leave-taking. Many times had Utley’s pig-headedness gotten us into trouble, from which some of us managed to pull the party through; but his last perversity had been the undoing of himself and Big Bill. I had feared all along that he would get us all lodged behind prison bars.

But it was fast growing dark, and I had no more time for this sort of meditation; so, crawling along the side of the rock until I reached the water, I stepped in, and keeping well up against the sloping wall of the mine entrance, I managed to get out of my hiding-place with a minimum of difficulty, as compared with my distressing experience in getting in it. Out in the free air once more, I soon possessed myself of the treasure under the leaves, and, proceeding cautiously, soon made my way back to the fork of the road near the farm-house. Here I sat in a shadow and carefully went over the situation.

I wondered whether or not George Wilson, poor fellow, had escaped, handicapped as he was, and whether Tall Jim and Eddie Hughes had done as they declared they would do, before surrendering. I shuddered. If I had dared, I think I would have prayed that no murder be committed in this affair. The thought of it made a cold chill thread my spine. At that moment I resolved that never, should I continue the life I had entered, would I kill a fellow-man, even though my life be taken as the penalty. And I have kept my word to the letter.

My thoughts returning to Wilson, I recalled that he had not had an opportunity to get his treasure satchel from under the log, when the enemy came upon us. I wondered if the searching party had found it, and counted the cost to venture back to camp and find out. Having become accustomed to danger, I determined to recover the treasure, believing it to be well worth the risk,—not for myself, however, but for Wilson. I thought it only just to save him his treasure, if I could do so without getting my neck in too much danger. He would better have it than many another man who might find it. And there was the chance that it would never be found and that eventually the elements would destroy what could be of great benefit to even me.

Accordingly I started, skirting the woods so as to approach our late camp at the rear, in about the same manner the enemy had taken us by surprise. I proceeded with great caution, not forgetting that I might be entrapped. When I had gained a point nearly abreast the log, I struck my foot against a stone. It was well rounded and weighed fully thirty pounds. It occurred to me that this stone could be used as a decoy should any one be scheming to entrap me. Sent rolling down the hill, if some of the enemy were about, they would be quite likely to pursue the stone, while I would get the bag and flee in the opposite direction. I believed the scheme worth trying, and accordingly sent the stone crashing down the hill. Great heaven! It seemed to me that it was urged on by some unseen master hand. Down, down it rolled, bounded, and crashed through dried leaves and twigs, bushes, and against tree-trunks. With the first noise from the stone there came the sound of many feet close by, and I sped off with all my might across the field as though a thousand imps were at my heels. I never ran so in my life, not when I was a farm lad away up in old New Hampshire. Indeed, I did not stop until I had placed a mile between me and the ill-fated woods. That our pursuers had discovered the bag of cash and were in waiting for some one of our party to return and get it was beyond question. I would not venture near the place again for all the money the Cadiz bank vault could hold.

Resting for a few minutes, I listened for any indication that I had been followed, and finding none, started out on a bold plan to walk my way back to Steubenville in the very teeth of the enemy. The very daring of the thing, I believed, would see me safe on my way to New York. So determined, I struck out, as near as I could tell, on a direct route to the railroad leading to Wheeling, which we had abandoned at daybreak.

It was not much like the night before when Utley stole the chicken. Then there was a part moon, unclouded, while now there was a sort of haze that made walking rather uncertain. I picked my steps slowly, pausing now and then to listen for anything that might be construed into a signal of danger. I gave the railway cut where the rope had been stretched a wide berth, and, coming back to the track again, continued at a rapid pace until the first streaks of dawn began to warn me that I must soon get under cover for the day. In crossing a bridge through which a turnpike ran under the railroad, I found at the back of one of the stone abutments what seemed to be an excellent hiding-place for my treasure. Carefully putting the cash and bonds far down in an opening, and placing stones over the top, I made as I hoped, a safe depository, until I could reach New York, and, fixing myself up, return and get the proceeds of my first bank loot. But again a tremor of remorse came over me at the thought of the way this treasure had come into my possession. I drowned it quickly, however, and seeing a brook not far off, drank freely to quench a terrible thirst, filled my water flask, and began to search for a hiding-place.