Life and adventures of Frank and Jesse James, the noted western outlaws

by J. A. Dacus

The flight of the discomfited robbers was rapid. These free riders would never mount an inferior horse. But chances for escape were very few. The robbery, or rather, bold attempt at robbery, and especially the death of Mr. Haywood, a gentleman held in the very highest esteem by the community at Northfield, had created a state of feeling in the public mind which would not allow the people to rest satisfied until the murderers were either captured or killed. In less than twenty-four hours the whole region about was notified of the occurrence at Northfield, and not less than four hundred well armed and well mounted men were in hot pursuit of the six surviving brigands.

The excitement occasioned by the events at Northfield was at fever heat. Efforts to capture the outlaws were further stimulated by the proclamation of Governor Pillsbury offering a reward of $1,000 for the apprehension of each of the robbers, or $6,000 for the capture of the survivors of the band.

The bandits fled in a southwestern direction, toward the little hamlet of Shieldsville, situated about 20 miles on an air line, southwest from the scene of the tragedy at Northfield. The route taken by the robbers made the distance more than twenty-five miles; yet they were at Shieldsville before dark. They passed straight through the place and made no concealment of their identity. Shieldsville is a small post village, containing a population of no more than 175 souls. As they passed through the village, they shouted to the citizens who were on the streets to get into their houses, and they made such demonstrations by firing off their pistols that the people were greatly alarmed. The pursuers meanwhile were gathering about them. Sheriff Davis and posse were behind them; Sheriff Estes and posse were before them, and there were officers and armed citizens to the right and to the left of them. Their situation became extremely critical after leaving Shieldsville.

But the indomitable courage of the bandits seemed for a time to promise them a final escape.

From Shieldsville the bandits travelled in a westerly direction toward Kilkenny, a post town and railway station in Le Sueur county. They were now avoiding the towns and travelled highways, and keeping in the forest, and travelling through the farms. All the crossing places on the streams were guarded by armed citizens. The guards at the ford on French creek became alarmed at the approach of the bandits and fled, so that they met no resistance at the crossing place. They remained one night for rest in a large forest near Kilkenny. The next morning they crossed the ford at Little Canyon. They pressed on toward the west. The route was beset with difficulties and dangers for them. They were anxious to reach the borderland, the frontier region, where men are few and wild.

There was no rest for them. It was at length necessary for them to abandon their horses. They had camped in the depths of a great forest. The officials had taken to the by-paths and scoured the woods in search of them. Leaving their horses and some of their heavier clothing, they trudged on foot, skulking among the thickets. Their progress was slow. One day they camped on a sort of a peninsula, about half a mile from a church. They were now thoroughly exhausted. Their diet had been green corn, potatoes and watermelons for several days, and they had been constantly on the move. Here a stray calf came along and they shot it in the head, but the calf did not fall, on the contrary, it ran away. A small pig passed by their camp, and one of them shot him in the head. But the pig refused to succumb, and ran away.

After leaving their isolated camp in the evening, foot-sore and worn out by reason of the anxiety and fatigue, they pushed forward in a more southerly direction, leaving Cleveland and the forest where they had abandoned their horses to the right. At midnight they had reached Marysburg, a small post village in the southern part of Le Sueur county. Finding a convenient hiding place they kindled a fire, and had a meal of roasted potatoes and corn. The village clock struck six. They heard the bell and judged themselves to be about a mile from the town. They left the Marysburg camp somewhat refreshed, and with buoyant hope of an ultimate escape from impending peril. Thus far they had eluded their pursuers. Their route from Marysburg lay southwestward through Blue Earth county, to Mankato. They made good headway during the day, and late in the evening they found a nice hiding place in a thicket in a cornfield, and lay very quiet without making a fire. Twice during the night they were alarmed by persons passing near them. Their hiding place happened to be near a neighborhood path which ran through the fields.

Six days after the affair at Northfield, when the worn robbers were struggling along through a great forest near Shaubut's, a few miles in a northeasterly direction from Mankato, they came suddenly upon a man named Dunning, who was one of a posse of citizens in pursuit of them. They at once captured this man, and a question arose as to the course to be taken with him. At once it was suggested by some one of the band to bind him fast to a tree and so leave him. Dunning pleaded hard for his life, and to be spared the terrible ordeal of such an uncertainty as that of being left bound in that great forest. It might be days before he would be discovered, and it might be that no human being would pass that way until he would be starved. Finally, from motives of humanity, as they claim, they administered to Dunning the most terrible oaths that he would not say one word about having seen them until they had ample time allowed to get out of the country altogether. Dunning gladly consented to take upon himself these solemn obligations, and they let him go. The released citizen sought the haunts of men and made haste to communicate to others all the particulars of his adventure with the robbers in the woods; and then the pursuit was renewed with new ardor and zeal. At midnight, six days after Northfield, the weary bandits trudged through Mankato in a very different plight from that in which they had made their entry into the place but a little more than a week before. As they approached the town with which they had made themselves familiar as they went to Northfield, they were alarmed by the shrill whistle of the oil mill. They concluded that their approach had been noted, and the steam whistle was the signal agreed upon to call the citizens together in case the approach of the robbers was noted. They therefore turned aside from the main streets, and sought the lanes and alleys back of the oil-mill. Here they hid awhile, but as there did not seem to be any movement among the citizens, they stealthily passed on, across the bridge. The guards had retired, or were not disposed to attack the six desperadoes. At any rate, they were not interrupted. After crossing, they raided a field of watermelons, selected four large ones, and under the deep shade of the trees, at the hour of one o'clock, they had a feast on the melons. They visited a house near by and got one spring chicken, and would have secured more had time been allowed. But they heard a great shouting of people, and saw one man looking for tracks. They fled at once up a bank, and pushed forward through the woods bordering the Blue Earth river. During the day they crossed that stream.

It was on the day after they passed Mankato that Frank and Jesse James, who appeared to have suffered less from the fatigue and exposure than the others, bid a last adieu to their comrades in the ill-starred Northfield enterprise. Only Cole Younger and his brothers, Jim and Bob, and Clell Miller, were left. The pursuers struck the trail of the Jameses, and these desperadoes now had a terrible time in eluding those who sought them. They were repeatedly fired upon, and were both wounded severely several times.

The four men left in the Blue Earth river forest struggled on toward the west. They had passed through the county of Blue Earth, and entered Watonwan county, full seventy-five miles on a straight line from Northfield, and a hundred and twenty-five miles by the route they had travelled. They had reached the swamps bordering the Watonwan river. They had been now exposed to untold hardships from the afternoon of the 7th of September to the 21st of the same month, a period of fourteen days. They had subsisted on green corn, potatoes and melons for the most part during that whole time. They had had but little sleep, and had been constantly harassed by their pursuers. For nine days and nights they had been compelled to walk through forests and thickets, and their clothes had been literally picked from their bodies by the thorns and brambles through which they had struggled. Their feet were in a most terrible condition. But their pursuers still followed them with a grim resolve that nothing could equal.