Columbia is a pleasant village in Adair county, in the middle part of the State of Kentucky. In the region of country in which Adair county is included, there are many of the relatives of the Boys resident, and these were then also friends. Columbia is a quiet village, except during the terms of the courts which meet there, it being the seat of justice of the county. At the time which we are now considering, the courts were not in session, and no more sedate a town in all Kentucky could be found than Columbia.
It was a lovely afternoon, April 29, 1872. The genial warmth of the sun had decked the earth in a carpet of green, clothed the trees in the forest, and called into being the myriad flowers, whose perfumes scented the breezy air. It was mild, and one of those lazy, dreamy afternoons, when, from very excess of enjoyment of the beauties of reviving nature, men are disposed to fall into sweet reveries.
But the quietude of Columbia was about to be rudely broken in upon, the repose of the beautiful spring day disturbed, and the place swept by a storm of excitement such as Columbia never experienced before. But we will not anticipate.
At the hour of two o'clock, on the afternoon of April 29th, 1872, Mr. R. A. C. Martin, cashier of the Deposit Bank at Columbia, and Mr. Garnett, a citizen, and two friends, were sitting quietly conversing in the bank office. Neither of the gentlemen was armed, and no one could have anticipated danger. Everything in the village was quiet, and the country around was enjoying the blessings of peace.
A half hour later the equanimity of the gentlemen was disturbed by the entrance of three men, well armed, who, with cocked pistols, ordered the cashier to surrender up the keys of the safe. Another one attempted to shoot Mr. Garnett, but that gentleman saved his life by knocking up the pistol, but was burned slightly by the flame produced by the discharge. All this was the transaction of a moment of time.
"Will you give up the safe-key, d—n you?" shouted one of the robbers, with a cocked pistol presented at Martin's head.
"I will not," was the answer.
"Then, d—n you, will you open the safe? Come, I've no time to wait. If you don't, I will blow your brains out. Come, will you?"
"I will not. I will d—"
The words were cut short. The sentence was never completed. There was a loud report, an involuntary moan from lips that would never speak again, and the lifeless form of R. A. C. Martin, the brave cashier, fell heavily to the floor. The other three gentlemen were guarded by one of the robbers, who kept his pistol cocked and pointed at them, and in view of their dead friend, jested with them about the facility with which he could dispatch all three of them. They had witnessed a demonstration of his skill, and they trembled for their lives.