I remained quietly until the sun had dipped behind the western hills, then I returned to camp where I again found my friend who had acted as a spy for me. He told me that he had seen Baker and Walls going in the direction of De Soto with two other men, one of whom stated to him that “Sam Hildebrand was thought to be in the country, from the fact that strange and very rough looking men had been seen at several public places, and that they were thought to be Hildebrand‘s men.”
The reader will here understand that these unwarrantable scares were very frequent in this vicinity; one poor ragged stranger making his appearance in the neighborhood was sufficient at any time to raise the cry of “Hildebrand,” at which all who had wronged me would squat like young quails.
Knowing that any further efforts to kill either Walls or Baker would be fruitless, I concluded to run the risk of watching the town of Big River Mills, which was at that time a place of rendezvous for the Militia, where they generally collected before starting out against me.
I accordingly took my station on a bluff overlooking the main road leading from the settlement of my old enemies to that place, being about a quarter of a mile below the town and fifty yards from the road. At daylight I was on the bluff and ready for business. During the day people passed the road at intervals of from fifteen minutes to half an hour; but none of them were the men I wanted to kill. From the position I occupied I could easily recognize the features of any one with whom I was formerly acquainted.
In the evening, about an hour by sun, I discovered a man riding slowly and alone toward the town, whom I recognized as Joe McGahan. A thrill of intense satisfaction pervaded my whole system, which it would be folly in me to attempt to describe. The English language from its high standard of dignity to its inexhaustible mine of scathing invective would be inadequate to describe the supreme contempt I felt for that man. When I reflected that one of the men who had dipped his hands in the blood of my brothers was now within the range of my gun, my feelings of joy, mingled with a hope of success was indescribable. Nearer and nearer he came, unconscious that retributive justice was hanging over his head; and as he approached the desired point I raised my trusty rifle to my face, placed my finger on the trigger, and was nearly in the act of pulling when the man turned his face a little toward me, when I discovered the sad and almost fatal mistake, that instead of being McGahan it was a man by the name of Sharp. He was a Union man living near by, but was a worthy man and highly esteemed by all who knew him. I almost involuntarily hailed him in order to explain and apologize, but was checked instantly by the return of reason. As he passed slowly out of sight my eyes were riveted on him until a point of the bluff around which he had passed broke the spell. I was deeply absorbed in thought, and the question naturally arose in my mind, why I should have been so often thwarted in my attempts to mete out justice to one who was a scourge to the land that gave him birth, and who had not even the magnanimity of the rattlesnake whose alarm is heard before the blow is struck.
I arrived finally to the conclusion that his Satanic Majesty, who still ruled the infernal regions without a rival, was jealous of his protege upon earth where he still needed his services, and that he wished to delay the period when he would be compelled to doff his crown to a superior.
I did not remain long in ambush after I had come so near committing a terrible error; but hastened through the woods, back to my retreat among the Pike Run hills, and found my men awaiting my return with anxious impatience. As soon as it was dark we started south, and after midnight reached the pinery, southwest from Farmington, and slept there until late in the morning. Our horses were much fagged, we saw that it was best to swap them off before proceeding on our journey.
During the day we stationed ourselves near the plank road between Farmington and Pilot Knob, to watch for an opportunity of exchanging horses. A large company of Federals passed by, but they were too numerous for our purpose. Toward evening we saw three men approaching who were mounted upon fine looking horses. The names of the men were Burges, Hughes and Kelley. We lost no time in capturing the party, and to prevent them from reporting us too soon, we made them go with us several miles over the rugged hills and deep ravines.
Not understanding this movement, they seemed much alarmed, thinking probably that we designed “barking” them.
Old man Burges begged manfully for his life, and shed an occasional tear; but I told him that as they were not Federal soldiers, and that as I had no personal animosity against them, it would be barbarous in the extreme for us to harm them. We took their horses, gave them our own and then released them. They left seemingly very well pleased with the arrangement, and as we had rather out-jockeyed them, we certainly had no right to complain.