Rube Burrow, king of outlaws, and his band of train robbers

by George W. Agee

On the cold and cheerless night of December 15, 1888, the north-bound express train of the Illinois Central Railway, which left New Orleans for Chicago at seven o’clock A. M. pulled into the station of Duck Hill, Miss., twenty-five miles south of Grenada, thirteen hours later. The manner in which the engine was boarded and the train stopped is best told in the language of Albert Law, the engineer in charge of the locomotive. He says:

“I pulled out of Duck Hill Station at 10:05 o’clock P. M. The fireman called to me to look out; that there was a car of cotton ahead on the side track. I pulled slowly by, in order to avoid igniting the cotton by sparks from the engine, and when I passed the cotton the fireman said: ‘All right, let her go.’ I started ahead lively, and presently saw the robbers climb up on my engine from the east side.

“The smaller man got on first. I thought they were tramps, and was in the act of slowing up to put them off when the smaller man covered me with a big pistol and said, ‘Don’t stop here! go on! go on!’ I then saw that the men were masked. I asked, ‘Where do you want to stop!’ He replied, ‘I’ll tell you where to stop.’ I pulled along, and when we had gone about a mile he said:

“‘Stop here—stop now!’ I put the air on full and stopped as quickly as I could.

“The little man did all the talking. When we stopped he got down on the ground and fired his revolver two or three times. The train had hardly stopped when he commenced shooting. The other man said, ‘Get down!’ My fireman and myself were then made to go ahead, on the east side of the train, to the express car. Here they stopped us, and the tall man called out to the messenger, ‘Open up! Open up!’ The messenger looked out of the door and the tall man said, ‘Where is your other man?’ The messenger said, ‘I have no other man—no one here but me,’ to which the reply was, ‘Help this man into the car!’ The messenger being covered by the revolver of the larger man, extended his hand and helped him into the car.

“About this time Mr. Wilkerson, the conductor, came out of one of the rear coaches with his lantern, and the smaller man, who stood guarding us, told me to tell him to go back. I did, and the conductor went back, but in a couple of minutes came out again. I saw two forms get out of the car. They had no lights. I said, ‘You had better go back, or they will shoot you; they are robbing the express car.’

“The fireman and I were between the robber and the rest of the train. He kept us in front of him as a sort of breastwork. Some one in the direction of the passenger coaches called out: ‘Law, where are you?’ When I answered a voice said: ‘Look out! I am going to shoot!’ I stepped back from the train and the firing commenced, and I broke and ran for the woods, which were close by.”

Meantime the robber who had entered the car handed a sack to Southern Express Messenger Harris and bade him deliver up the contents of his safe. At this juncture the firing on the outside of the car had commenced, and advancing to the door, still keeping an eye on the messenger, the robber fired three shots into the air. Conductor Wilkerson had, on first coming out, taken in the situation, and going back into the coaches announced to the passengers that the train was being robbed, and asked who would assist him. Chester Hughes, a brave young fellow, from Jackson, Tenn., arose quickly and said, “I will, if I can get anything to shoot with.” Two colored men seated near by had each a thirty-eight caliber Winchester rifle, and these weapons were quickly gathered by the conductor and his gallant passenger, and loading them with cartridges furnished them by the owners they went forth to do battle with the robbers. It was conductor Wilkerson who had warned the engineer to protect himself, and he fired the first shot at the robbers.

Advancing abreast of each other these brave men fired shot after shot at the dark form of the robber who stood as a sentinel on the outside of the car, and who unflinchingly held his ground, returning with steady aim charge after charge from his trusty revolver, until finally young Hughes dropped his Winchester, and exclaiming “I am shot!” fell to the earth. Wilkerson raised the brave young fellow to his feet and dragged his unconscious and bleeding form into the coach, and returning to the steps of the front coach renewed the firing at the robbers.

The robber had, meantime, secured the money from the messenger (about two thousand dollars), and backing out of the car, still holding his pistol on the messenger, joined his comrade on the ground, and under the fire of the conductor both retreated to the woods hard by.