Thus far no arrests had been made of the plunderers of the banks at Russellville, Kentucky; Gallatin, Missouri, and Columbia, Kentucky. Boldly the brigands had ridden, and skillfully they had executed their purpose, and, we may almost say, peacefully they rode away when their deeds were done. At first, people knew not what to think of these daring daylight raids. The best detective skill was placed at fault in ferreting out the haunts of the robbers. Russellville and Gallatin are separated by many hundreds of miles. Could the robbers of the former possibly be the raiders into the last-named place? And Gallatin is far removed from Columbia; was it possible that the murderers and robbers at the first-named place were the same persons who astonished the people, murdered the cashier and plundered the bank at Columbia? People asked these questions, and no one was found able to answer them. Scarcely had the people ceased to talk, and the excitement incident to the bold raid on Columbia, with its concomitant horror, died away, ere the country was shaken by the recurrence of a similar daring outrage in another state.
It was the old story repeated. This time a flourishing town in Iowa was selected for the scene of exciting events. In Corydon there was, and there still is, a bank. In that town a considerable amount of business is transacted, and it was a season of the year—June 28th, 1873—when much of the capital usually employed in mercantile transactions—it was reasonable to infer—was held in reserve by the bank, and the raiders calculated on a large prize to compensate for the risk taken. Certainly the men who went to Corydon were trained in the same school in which the Russellville, Gallatin, Columbia and Northfield robbers were at one time pupils. Riding into town in daylight, when the inhabitants were out and abroad pursuing their usual avocations, the thoroughly armed and well-mounted desperadoes proceeded to the bank. Three of them dismounted, drew their pistols, and entered the office. Taken entirely by surprise, the cashier and two other gentlemen who were present, could offer no resistance. In fact, the memory of Gallatin, and the fate of poor Captain Sheets, came back to them with painful distinctness. They were paralyzed before the dark chambers of the huge dragoon pistols, and could not even so much as protest against the proceedings. They yielded to the inevitable.
The horsemen who remained in the street ordered all citizens to retire to their houses, and, with fearful imprecations, threatened to blow the heads off those who manifested the slightest hesitation in obeying their commands. Meanwhile, the bandits on the inside were exercising their pleasure with the assets of the bank. The safe was opened and its contents raked into a sack which the robbers carried along. During the progress of their labors in "taking in" the valuables of the institution, one of them, who seemed to have been deputied to stand guard over the persons found in the place, amused himself by jesting at their distress, and cheerfully asserting his ability to pick the buttons off their coats with pistol bullets. The robbers remained but a few minutes. The citizens were becoming aware of what was transpiring in their midst, and were recovering from their surprise, and rallying to contest with the robbers. With great oaths they bade the people in the bank to remain perfectly quiet until they were gone, forced them to the door while they retired, regained and mounted their horses, and, shouting loudly, they rode rapidly away, and were out of town many minutes before any one was ready to go in pursuit. They were pursued afterward, but none were captured.
CHAPTER XX.
THE CASH BOX OF THE FAIR.
Fair time! Kansas City was gay with flags and streamers and banners. It was a holiday season. The streets were thronged and trains from Leavenworth and Sedalia, and St. Joseph and Moberly, and Lawrence and Clinton and regions further removed from Kansas City, brought crowds of men, women and children to see the show. It was a lovely October day. The temperature was mild, and the sun shone through an atmosphere which tinged his rays with gold.
All day the great crowd surged and circled about the grounds and through the textile hall, and the art gallery, and the agricultural exhibition, and among the fat kine and the lazy swine, the sheep and the horses, and the poultry coops. It was a good day, so the "management" thought, one of the very best they had ever had. Shrewd mental arithmeticians declared there was not a soul less than twenty thousand visitors present that day, and an incident of some importance has placed it forever out of the power of any one to disprove the statement of the mental arithmetician. The management, too, from that day to this, have been unable to count the gate money. Why not we now proceed to tell.
The people visiting the fair were deeply interested in "the speed and bottom" of sundry "blooded horses" which were making time around the race track. The sun was getting low in the west. It was the last "ring" to be exhibited that day. Of course no one would think of paying their entrance fee and go away without seeing the races.
While the great multitude was so engaged, there was a commotion near the entrance gate. The level beams of the declining sun cast gigantic shadows over the ground. A sudden clattering of horses, hoofs on the beaten road aroused the guardians at the gate. What could it mean? The noise came nearer. The guardians looked up. A strange sight met their gaze. A band of well mounted, well armed, strange, weird looking men, seven in number, dashed up to the gate. Among some of the spectators it was supposed that these singularly brigandish looking men, were simply actors, that they had been employed by the "management" for the entertainment of the visitors to the fair—that it was, in short, an irruption of the "Cowbellions," or some such mystic order of men. Even the treasurers in their "cuddy boxes" did not comprehend the character of the movement.
But they were not kept in doubt long. Riding directly to the receiver of money, who, like Matthew, of saintly memory, was sitting at the receipt of customs, two of them sprang to the ground, drew their pistols, and rushed up to the cashier. With a fearful threat they commanded him to remain quiet, and designate the money box. What could he do? Instantly the other robber seized the cash-box. The men who still remained mounted covered the retreat of the two who did the seizing. They remounted, fired a volley as a warning, and dashed away with the receipts of the day, probably $8,000 or $9,000.