The night was one of almost Egyptian darkness, and men could do little good tramping through muddy lanes and through dripping woods without a trail to guide them. The resolve, therefore, was to await the break of day, when at the earliest hour of dawn a close hunt and hot pursuit would commence. Accordingly with the gloaming, Hoy, of Minneapolis, with a number of Mankato men and others, started out and they were soon shown
A TRAIL
which led across the railroad bridge along the Sioux City line into a melon patch, back to the road and on across the Garden City road. The engineer of an incoming train motioned the pursuers toward the thick woods covering the slopes of Pigeon Hill, some two hundred yards from the State road. But on went the chattering, noisy trail-hunters, chasing each other up the line. Quickly they came to a halt and found they had overrun the trail. Doubling upon their tracks they came back several yards and found the foot-prints turned off into the woods. Their attention was now attracted by a strong smell of burning feathers, and looking up toward the beautifully wooded acclivity, they saw a thin, pale column of smoke issuing from the luxurious foliage and spreading itself out like a hazy film.
At this point there seems to be conflicting statements as to what was done, some asserting that Hoy at once made a dash toward the [pg 38] campfire; others say that he spent several minutes consulting and ordering his own men back to Garden City road to surround the camp. One man, Mr. Hansen, of Mankato, says that he actually saw one of the robbers and wanted to fire, but Hoy would not let him, stating that he might hit some of the pursuers instead of the pursued. Both Cole and Bob Younger afterward stated that Hoy did not charge into the camp at all. Be this as it may, the camp when entered was found to be deserted. When the writer entered the
ROBBER'S CAMP,
a bright, clear fire was burning, in front of which, toward the railroad, a long pole was wedged in between some saplings, over which had been hung the coats and blankets of the band. The front part of a shirt was found, stained with blood. One wristband was wanting, but that found at the camp discovered on the previous Sunday, exactly corresponded with it. The shirt was of good quality and had evidently never been laundried. Bob Younger afterwards told the writer that the garment belonged to him. A blood-stained handkerchief (new) with border torn from two sides was found, with a large blue weather-proof coat, a brown linen duster, nearly new, a piece of drugget about two yards square and two bridles. One of the bridles had a very severe Mexican bit, and was afterwards recognized by a Mankato man as being one that he had exchanged at St. Peter for a milder one. Near the fire were two fowls and a chicken skillfully dressed and jointed ready for broiling, and several cobs of corn, some of it partially roasted, and some of it showing marks of teeth, as though some of the men were too hungry to wait till breakfast was ready. At the back of the camp fire the hill ascended precipitously, and in the dead leaves were distinctly seen the trail of the disturbed bandits. Reaching the summit of Pigeon Hill, they crossed the Garden City road and entered the heavy timber and dense underbrush leading down to the Blue Earth river. The whole of this wood was filled with men, a party of about two hundred men forming a skirmish line about three paces apart and marching completely through it down to Jones' ford. It was now about mid-day, and it was thought the outlaws had doubled on their track and were concealed somewhere in the thick coverts of
BEAUTIFUL MINNEOPA.
Accordingly toward this lovely spot were the forces concentrated, and all the afternoon the wide space fronting the Rev. D. T. Rowland's residence was filled with armed men. Although this delightful spot is well known to pleasure-seekers, it is doubtful if ever before it was the scene of so much bustle and animation, and the two beautiful daughters of the reverend gentleman were kept busily employed attending to the wants of their countless guests.
The whole neighborhood was thoroughly searched, the deep and shadowing glen, the rocky chasms, the towering heights were all [pg 39] searched through and through, not a thicket nor a cave, nor a gloomy recess in the tortuous course of the serpentine Minneinneopa escaped the ruthless tread of the pursuers. No one could form an adequate idea of the number of men engaged in the hunt if they remained themselves with one party or in one place. As the writer was taken from one point to another, along highways and by ways by a spirited span of colts, supplied by Mr. B. D. Pay, he was astonished at the number of skirmishers he met. There were men of