"You seem to be a sort of jolly coon, anyhow," said the robber, "and I'll gratify you. That old scoundrel, Pinkerton, is on this train, or was to have been on it, and we want to get him, so that we can cut out his heart and roast it."
During the time they were in the cars among the passengers, they mentioned the name of Pinkerton many times, and exhibited the most intense hatred of the distinguished detective. It was very fortunate for Mr. Allan Pinkerton that he was not a passenger on the train that lumbered up to the dreary station of Gadshill that winter day.
This circumstance is confirmatory of the evidence that Jesse and Frank James were leaders in the Gadshill affair. They, for years, have cherished the most bitter animosity toward the detective, and the very mention of his name was sufficient to render them almost frantic with rage.
The citizens were released, and the robbers mounted their horses and rode away in the gathering darkness, over the forest-crowned hills to the west.
Some of the features of this bold robbery were ludicrous in the extreme. The trepidation of the passengers made the job a quick one, because they were ready on demand to give up everything to the freebooters. One passenger complained at the hardship, and the following dialogue ensued:
"Give me your money, watch and jewelry, you blamed cur! quick!"
"Now, please, I—"
"Dry up, d—n you, and shell out!" And the robber thrust a pistol against his temple.
"Oh, yes! Excuse m-m-me, p-p-p-please, d-don't shoot. Here's a-all I've g-got in t-t-the world." And the poor fellow, all tremblingly, handed up his wealth.
"I'm a good mind to shoot you, anyhow," remarked the robber, "for being so white livered."