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

by George W. Agee

By shrewd questioning, Jackson found that Rube, under the name of Ward, was engaged in hauling feed from the landing on the opposite shore to Allen’s log camp, about eighteen miles away, and at that very hour he was loading for his return trip on the south bank of the river. Broxton, the ferryman, had, unfortunately, gone to Milton with the only boat used at the ferry, and it was impossible to cross the river that day.

It was ascertained that Rube’s practice was to leave the log camp about seven o’clock in the morning, reach the ferry about two in the afternoon, and after loading repair to the house of Broxton, the ferryman, where he would spend the night, and making an early start on the succeeding day arrive at the camp in the afternoon. It had, therefore, been his practice to reach the ferry landing on Yellow River every alternate day.

Jackson, being unable to cross the river, returned to Milton on February 4th, and sent the following telegram to an official of the Southern Express Company: “I expect to secure title to tract number one, about ten miles south of here, Wednesday, February 6th. The papers are all in good shape.”

Rube Burrow had always been designated in correspondence between the officers and detectives as number one, and the telegram therefore meant that Jackson had located his man, that his plans were in good shape, and the capture would be made at the hour and place designated.

At four o’clock on the morning of February 6th Jackson was joined at Milton by the express officials, to whom the details of the situation were given. At an early hour the start for Broxton’s ferry was made in a hack, Jackson having selected four reliable men from Milton to assist him. The party reached the ferry landing on the north bank of the river about eleven o’clock A. M., and after some difficulty a boat was secured and a landing on the south shore was effected.

It had been determined at first to continue the journey beyond the river and capture Rube in the road, but on reaching the south landing the surroundings seemed so advantageous that it was decided to await his arrival at the ferry. The roadway, after leaving the south bank of the river a few miles, wends its course through a sparsely timbered pine forest. It is very straight, and persons traversing it from opposite directions could see each other for miles. It was therefore feared that Rube, ever on the alert, might take the alarm at sight of the posse. On the contrary, at the ferry all seemed propitious. There was moored the boat which contained the camp supplies to be loaded into Rube’s cart with his own hands. It seemed a very trap, baited and set in the certain pathway of some beast whose lair had just been discovered, and here it was agreed to quietly await the hour of his coming. The exit from the landing where the boat was moored was a narrow corduroy road that debouched from the water’s edge, through overhanging boughs and vines, for some three hundred yards, to the foot of a hill, and, curving to the south, shut out all further view from the river. On either side of the road, approaching the landing, were the fallen trunks of huge cypress trees, which afforded a splendid cover for the posse.

At the hour of noon, with the ferryman sitting not thirty paces distant, so as to watch the road and give the signal when the cart should appear in sight, the posse went into ambush and anxiously awaited Rube’s arrival. He had never been later than two o’clock in reaching the ferry. It had been arranged that upon his arrival, and immediately upon his halting his team, all six of the posse would cover him with their breech-loading shotguns, and Detective Jackson should order the bandit to surrender; and if he failed to do so, the discharge of Jackson’s gun would be a signal for the rest of the posse to fire.

Every alternate day for five weeks Rube had arrived at this spot between two and three o’clock P. M. The presence of the posse at the ferry was known to no one save the ferryman, and he was kept under careful surveillance. The capture of the outlaw seemed absolutely certain.

As the silent hours rolled by the detectives watched with bated breath for the signal from the ferryman. In the awful stillness that prevailed the ticking of the watches that marked the passing hours could be heard. Two o’clock, three o’clock, four o’clock came, and yet the crack of the ox-driver’s whip, the longed-for music of the “gee-whoa,” which, on Rube’s coming, were wont to disturb the solitude of this wild retreat, were heard not. Finally, at five o clock, after another hour of anxious waiting had passed, a colored laborer in the log camp from which Rube was expected, appeared. He was questioned as to the whereabouts of Ward, the name assumed by Burrow, and answered that one of his oxen was sick; that he had not started at eleven o’clock, and would probably not come until next day. This was a sore disappointment. The camp could not be reached until long after dark. The outlaw might start at any hour, and the posse might miss him in some of the many by-roads that intervened the long distance. It was concluded, therefore, to remain on watch at the ferry, hoping that he might still arrive before night.

With the slowly sinking sun sank the hopes of the anxious officers, who felt that the cover of night would bring some untoward event to mar the plans which had been arranged for the capture. Darkness came, but the silent watch was continued. Broxton, the ferryman, lived about one mile from the ferry, and immediately on the road along which Rube had to travel. It was now quite certain if Rube should arrive he would spend the night at Broxton’s and reach the ferry next morning. Ascertaining that there was a vacant house a few hundred yards beyond the house of the ferryman, and only a few feet from the road, it was determined best to remove the posse to this building and watch there during the night.