“Meantime we who had escaped slaughter in the terrible bombardment we had faced were trying to make our way to some safe place. Not far from Northfield we met a farmer, who lent us a horse for Pitts to ride, and we got past Dundas ahead of the news of the raid on the bank. We were also beating it at Millersburg, but at Shieldsville we ran into a squad of men who knew what had happened and were after us. These men had, foolishly for themselves, left their guns outside a house, and we didn't let them get hold of them until we had a good start, but they overtook us about four miles away and shots were exchanged without any trouble resulting.”
“Soon there were a thousand men on our trail and about $5,000 in rewards for our capture. We tramped and camped and rode and watched in a strange country and among the lakes. We didn't know the trails and were afraid to try the fords and bridges, knowing that our hunters would be sure to keep their eyes on these places. Saturday morning we abandoned our horses and decided to keep up the fight afoot. We tramped all night and put in Sunday near Marysburg. Bob's elbow by this time was in pretty bad shape and we had to go slow. Finally, on Monday night and Tuesday we couldn't go anywhere, so we passed the time in a deserted house near Mankato. A man named Dunning found us there and we took him prisoner. On the theory that the dead are silent, some of the men wanted to kill him, but I wouldn't stand for that, so we made him swear by all that was holy that he [pg 144] wouldn't tell that he had seen us until we got away. Then we turned him loose. He lost no time in getting into Mankato and giving the alarm, and in a few minutes another posse was after us.”
“That night Howard and Wood decided that they wouldn't hold back any longer and that we were losing valuable time because of Bob's wound, so they left us and went on west. They stole two horses very soon, and this helped us as well as them, for the posse followed the trail of the stolen horses, not knowing that we had divided.”
“On Thursday morning, September 21, just two weeks after the raid, the end came. A party of forty men soon surrounded us and opened fire. We were cut off from our horses and our case was hopeless. We were on the open prairie and not ready for our last flight against such odds, we fell back into the Watonwan river bottoms and hid in some bushes.”
“When the iron doors shut behind us at the Stillwater prison we all submitted to the prison discipline with the same unquestioning obedience that I had exacted during my military service. The result was that we gained friends both in prison and outside. We had been in prison a little over seven years, when, on January 25, 1884, the main building was destroyed by fire at night. George F. Dodd was then connected with the prison, while his wife was matron. There was danger of a panic and a terrible disaster. Dodd released Jim and Bob and myself. To me he gave a revolver. Jim had an axe handle and Bob a small iron bar. We stood guard over the women prisoners, marched them from the danger of the fire, and the prison authorities were kind enough to say that had [pg 145] [pg 146] it not been for us there must have been a tremendous loss of life.”
Head Officials, Minneapolis, Minnesota Police Department. 1. Capt. H.L. Getchell, 5th Precinct. 2. Capt. P.J. Quealey, 2nd Precinct. 3. Capt. Michael Mealey, Asst. Supt. Hdqrtrs. 4. Capt. Frank T. Corriston, Superintendant. 5. Capt. Nicholas Smith, Capt. of Detectives. 6. Capt. Geo. Reviere, Night Capt. Hdqtrs. 7. Capt. Frank Ferm, 3rd Precinct. 8. Capt. Geo. Sinclair, 4th Precinct.
“I can say without fear of contradiction that had it been in our minds to do so we could have escaped from the prison that night, but we had determined to pay the penalty that had been exacted, and if we were ever to return to liberty it would be with the consent and approval of the authorities and the public. A little later Jim was put in charge of the mail and library of the prison, while I was made head nurse in the hospital, where I remained until the day we were paroled.”
“As the years went by the popular feeling against us not only subsided, but our absolute obedience to the minutest detail of the prison discipline won us the consideration, and I might even say, the esteem of the prison officials. In the meantime it had been a life sentence for Bob, he having died of consumption September 16, 1889.”
“Jim and I went out into the world July 14, 1901, after serving a few months less than twenty-five years. Each of us immediately found work, and life again took on its normal hues. Poor Jim, however, was subject to periodical spells of deep depression. The bullet that shattered his upper jaw in our last fight in Madelia imbedded itself near the brain and was not removed until long after we were in the prison at Stillwater. That bullet was the cause of his occasional gloominess. After our relase from prison Jim's health continued precarious. He finally gave up the fight, and on October 19, 1902, took his own life in a hotel in Minnesota.”