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

by J. A. Dacus

But they kept on. Just when daylight faded away, they emerged from the swamp, and found themselves in a travelled highway. They had lost their determined foes in the darkness of the sombre swamp behind them. They started down the road, which lay along the bank of a stream of considerable size. Wearied into a state of exhaustion, they hoped to find a snug place where they could rest and take some food. But their trials were not yet at an end. In the lonely depths of the forest, with the dark, still river on one side, and the timbered wilderness on the other, they heard the ominous sounds of horses' hoofs. They listened. There were horsemen behind and before them. In another moment, sounds came from the woods, which indicated that they were being surrounded.

The wearied freebooters quickly stepped into the deep shadow of a great tree which stood upon the bank of the stream, to await further developments. That the horsemen were gradually closing around them they were speedily convinced. Their situation was critical. What could be done? The stream below them was evidently deep and dangerous to ford. Their plans were quickly formed and consummated. They quietly dropped down the bank to the margin of the stream, which at that place flowed close by an abrupt bank. "They were there by that tree but a moment ago," they heard one man remark, as a party came up to the spot where the outlaws had stood but a moment before. It was evident that their numbers must exceed twenty. Stealthily the hunted brothers moved down the stream along the margin of the water, and close up under the overhanging bank. They heard their pursuers discuss the situation. "They are still near at hand, no doubt," the brothers heard one remark. Then the movements indicated that they were preparing for a more careful examination of the situation where they were. Soon several men came riding down the road just over their heads. They had reached a place where the river runs under a shelving bank and the brothers could go no further without taking to the water. Four men came down the bank above, and came toward them. The brothers were constrained to take to the stream. The water was about two feet deep. They clung close to the bank, and silently reached a place they deemed safe, in a cave-like excavation made by the water under the roots of a great tree. The hunters came to the place where the bank and the waters met, and, apparently satisfied, they turned and went back. The brothers heard the clash of horses' feet on a bridge below, and then they knew that the crossing below was guarded. After a time all became still around them. They concluded to swim or wade the river from the point where they were, and, once on the opposite side, to strike through the country. Silently as possible, without any splashing, they came from their place of concealment and waded out into the stream until they were compelled to swim. The night was quite dark, and they passed over without being discovered. Climbing the opposite bank, they found themselves in an open wood. With all the haste which they could make, they proceeded westward. A mile away they came to a cornfield, and in the field there was a thicket. Here they found a hiding-place, and, as wet as they were, they partook of a repast of green corn, and lying down on the grass, they slept soundly until the sun was up. Waiting some time in a sunny place until their clothing had partly dried, the brothers started on their weary way. All day they travelled without being molested. In the evening, while travelling along a country road, they met a man leading two horses, one of which was saddled. They spoke to him, and from his manner and the answers he made them, they were convinced that he had not heard anything about the affair at Northfield. They asked him if he would like to sell the horses he was leading. He answered that it was his business to deal in horse-flesh. What would he take for the pair? The man named the price, and, after some bantering, a trade was effected, and even the saddle on which he rode was transferred, the horse-trader declaring that he did not own anything which he would not sell.

Jesse and Frank James were once more mounted. They stopped at a cabin in a lonely locality and asked for supper. A woman and two children were apparently the only inmates. They learned from her that her husband had been summoned to help catch a gang of horse-thieves, and had not been home for three days. Frank carefully concealed his wound, and the woman quickly prepared a good supper for them, and, after settling with her, they mounted and rode away.

The brothers rode all night, and as their horses were fresh and good travellers, they traversed many miles. They had already begun to congratulate themselves on their escape, when one day when they were in the neighborhood of a town on the western border of Iowa, they were fiercely attacked by seven men, all well armed, but, fortunately for the outlaw brothers, not very well mounted. A running fight ensued, and Frank received a desperate wound. But the good fortune which had so often attended them came to their aid, and in the darkness of the night they rode far away, and in the morning reached a house where the services of a physician were secured, who dressed Frank's wounds. The physician was afterward arrested, but no evidence of his having knowledge of the character of his patient was produced, and he was discharged.

The brothers had reached the borders of Nebraska. Jesse had a "friend" somewhere on the confines of that state, and they proceeded to his place by easy stages. Here they rested for some days while Frank's wounds were attended to by a physician. But the news of Northfield had reached there, and suspicions of their friend and his strange guests were aroused. It was deemed best to take an early departure. An ambulance was procured. One of the horses was disposed of, and the boys by easy stages drove into Kansas. Their horse and ambulance was disposed of there. At a station not a thousand miles west of Kansas City they took the cars, and were transported to Texas. At Waco, Frank was placed under the care of a physician, and nursed until restored to health again.

Thus was terminated one of the most remarkable escapes from capture ever recorded. None other than men of very superior genius could have succeeded. As it is, the exploit is one of marvelous adroitness, one which cannot fail to excite our admiration.

CHAPTER XL.
A VISIT TO CARMEN.

After Northfield, Missouri was deemed an unsuitable field for operations by the James Boys. Nor did it afford a safe place of retirement for persons who had engaged in such a desperate warfare against the established order of society. But they were accustomed to make long expeditions, and they were at home anywhere. The shelter of a rock sufficed for them in the wintry nights, and the branches of a tree, with their spreading leaves, furnished roof enough for them when the summer nights came. Far away, in that region of the great state of Texas known for many years as the Territory of Bexar, where a beautiful stream flows down from the rugged mountains toward the west, to unite with the Rio Pecos, Jesse and Frank had established a retreat which they called Rest Ranche. It is many miles east of Fort Quitman, and a long way from San Estevan. To the west there are rugged hills and low mountains, covered with chaparral almost impenetrable to man or beast. Far away in a southern direction is the little frontier post called Fort Lancaster. There are no frequented trails near the place which they had selected. The Rio Grande road, from Fort Quitman to Fort Lancaster, runs southwest of the rugged region alluded to above, and the usual line of travel from Fort McKavitt to the military posts and settlements on the Upper Rio Grande, in New Mexico, was a long distance from their chosen retreat. Toward the northeast are the Salt Plains, and, further away still, the Staked Plains, the dread of all travellers in those regions.

In this retreat they were free from the intrusion of prying neighbors, and the inquisitiveness of passing travellers. It was and is a lovely place. There are few traces of the presence of man in that wilderness land. The Pecos flows miles away from their place through a valley full of natural beauties. But the region is lonely—so lonely! There are only trails occasionally followed by a band of predatory Lipans, or traversed by marauding parties of Comanches and Kickapoos, on raids to the Mexican border through that vast region. It was in such a country the daring bandits found repose; and, when occasion suited, to ride untrammeled by fears.