THE BUTCHERY AT CHALK LEVEL.
Terror-stricken at the casting into the vault of his master's son and
the destruction of the lock, Mr. Harris stared in bewilderment at the
prison-vault, aware that the boy might suffocate before workmen could
open the doors.
Even the dire threat of repeating the robbery failed to arouse him and
no heed did he pay as Jesse picked up the bag of plunder and walked
calmly from the building, with his pal at his side.
But the pistol shot had been heard!
In his yard across the street, a man had been setting out flowers.
As the report rang out from the bank, he glanced toward it and beheld
the desperadoes, their pistols pointed at the cashier.
Dropping his gardening implements, the man rushed into the house to get
his shotgun, bravely intending to go to the assistance of Mr. Harris.
"What is it, Henry?" asked his wife as she noticed the scared
expression on her husband's face as he ran for his weapon.
"Robbers--in the--bank!" he gasped, taking the gun from its rack by the
kitchen door.
"Gracious me! What are _you_ going to do?"
"Go to the help of Mr. Harris, of course."
"Henry Farnam, are you a fool? Will you never learn to mind your own
business? Go to Harris' rescue, will you? Well, I guess not. If you
stay here, the robbers'll probably not hurt him. I know him too well to
think he'd refuse to do what they said. But if they see you rushing at
them with a gun, they'll like as not kill him and put a bullet into you
for your pains. And your insurance premium hasn't been paid for this
year! No, sir. You just put that gun back in its rack and stay in the
house!"
Accustomed to the domination of his energetic spouse, Farnam meekly
returned the weapon to its place by the kitchen door and followed his
wife into the front room to watch proceedings from a safe position
behind the closed blinds.
"There they go! Mercy, how fierce they look! Henry, Henry, I've saved
your life!" babbled the woman, as the outlaws strode away from the
bank, throwing her arms around her husband's neck.
But Farnam was more interested in the robbers and wriggling from the
hysterical embrace, saw them mount their horses and dash madly up the
street.
Sure that they were gone, he rushed from his house and gave the alarm.
From all sides men ran in response to his frenzied shouts and the
excitement was increased by the appearance of the cashier in the door
of the looted bank, crying for dynamite, gunpowder and sledge hammers.
When they learned, however, of the entombment of young Rozier they
dashed in all directions to get implements to cut their way into
the vault. But though the massive doors had failed to protect the
funds, they resisted all attempts to demolish them and, in despair,
the leaders of the rescue work decided to blow them off with
nitro-glycerine, deeming it preferable for the banker's son to run his
chances of being hit by flying fragments than to die of strangulation.
All of the people who had been attracted by the wild shouts could not
get into the bank, however, and some of those compelled to stand on the
outside talked of pursuing the thieves.
Quickly a dozen men volunteered their services.
"Go and get horses and guns!" yelled a voice. "You can't catch 'em on
foot."
Oblivious of the sarcasm, the men rushed to secure them.
Had any of them been possessed of intrepid courage, they might have
recovered the plunder!
As the outlaws raced northward up the main street, Jesse handed the
bag of spoils to John, that he might have both hands free to use his
shooting-irons should they be followed.
Frightened, as the sack was swung toward it, the animal which John
rode, bucked furiously, unseating him.
As the bandit struck the street, the gunny-sack burst, spilling the
gold and greenbacks.
Cursing wildly, the world-famous desperado yanked his pony to its
haunches.
"Pick it up!" he roared.
But as his companions dismounted, the bandit-chieftain discovered that
John's horse was tearing madly up the street.
At the very moment when success was hovering over them the series of
accidents had occurred!
Undaunted, however, the great outlaw determined to keep his ill-gotten
gains. No pursuers were in sight and if the runaway pony could be
caught, they might still make good their escape. Yet he was loath to
leave his pals to go in chase lest a posse appear while he was away.
As he was hesitating what to do, the rumble of wheels in a side street
caught his ear and turning toward it, he beheld a man whose cast of
countenance proclaimed him a German, driving a lively pair of bays
attached to an express wagon.
To see was to act, and riding toward him, Jesse shouted:
"Hey, Dutchy! Chase that horse lively and bring him back!"
"Mein gracious! I can't," protested the farmer.
"You'll either do it or die! Which do you prefer?" And the terrible
outlaw whipped out his "Colts."
"Ach, Himmel! I kotch him! I kotch him!" returned the terrified German.
Heading his bays after the runaway, the farmer set them at a gallop.
Satisfied that the pony would soon be restored to them, the
bandit-chieftain ordered his men to draw their guns and form a circle
around the recovered money, that their evident purpose of guarding
their treasure might warn off any would-be rescuers.
But as the quartette looked down the thoroughfare toward the bank
they were alarmed to see a body of horsemen gather in front of the
institution.
The distance between them was just about a mile, too short for safety.
"If that Dutchman doesn't come back with John's horse, he'll have to
double up with Jim when the posse gets half-way to us. I'll tie the
money-sack to my saddle pommel. If they press us too hard, we'll give
'em a battle!"
Instantly the desperadoes prepared to mount.
"Hoopla! Here come's Dutchy with my horse!" cried John, looking up the
street.
"And here come a dozen man-hunters!" retorted Jesse, as the troop left
the bank.
Anxiously the desperadoes watched the race.
"Better mount," snapped the world-famous outlaw as the posse neared the
half-way mark he had chosen as the limit of safety.
"Hey, you beer guzzler! Hurry up with that mare or I'll plug you full
of lead!" bellowed John, pointing his rifle at the German.
"Ach, Himmel! Don't shoot!" implored the latter. "I coom in chust a
second."
Inspired by the desire to save his skin, the farmer lashed his bays
furiously, dragging the captured runaway by a halter he had tied around
her neck.
Darting forward to meet him as he drew near, John yelled:
"Fling me the rope!"
Glad to be free of his blood-thirsty employers, the fellow hurled the
halter-end at the bandit as he clattered past in his wagon, never
looking around to see whether it was caught or not.
But a shout of joy from behind told him that it had been. Yet scarcely
had it died away when a howl of fury from in front warned him that the
posse did not approve his actions and, in fear of being made to pay a
penalty for lending aid to the robbers, he yanked his bays into a side
street, taking the corner on two wheels.
Tarrying not to battle with their pursuers, the desperadoes continued
their course northward.
Their ponies, however, were tired from the hard riding of the past few
days and those of the posse rapidly overhauled them.
"I guess it's fight after all," snarled Jesse. "Be ready to halt and
fire when I give the word."
But the next moment he was roused to fresh fury by the command bellowed
at him:
"Surrender! We've got you at our mercy!"
Reining in his mount, the great outlaw sneered:
"Turn 'round and go home before you're hurt. Come a rod nearer and
we'll shoot! Take aim, boys!"
Throwing their Winchesters to their shoulders, Cole, John and Jim
waited.
This determination to resist any attempt to capture them abashed the
posse and they halted to hold a conference.
"Once more, we call upon you to surrender," yelled the spokesman at its
conclusion.
Realizing that men who temporized when they outnumbered them three to
one would make no desperate attempt to kill them, Jesse exclaimed to
his men:
"Give them a volley just over their heads."
Instantly the rifles cracked.
"Charge!" thundered the great bandit.
Ducking as the bullets whistled above them, the pursuers paused only
till they beheld the yelling robbers dashing toward them, then turned
and fled incontinently.
"That'll do, boys!" laughed Jesse. "There's no use playing with fire.
While they're recovering their nerve, we'll have the opportunity to get
into the woods."
And once more whirling their ponies, the outlaws rode from Ste.
Genevieve.
Without let or hindrance, they reached a dense copse where they divided
the booty and discussed plans for hiding till the first heat of the
chase should die out.
Jesse and Cole were for crossing the Mississippi and bearing to the
south, seeking cover in the mountains of Kentucky or Tennessee.
John and Jim, however, argued that there would be less danger in
recrossing the state and going back to where they started from.
Finally it was agreed that they should separate, the bandit-chieftain
and his chum going where they thought best and the others announcing
their determination to return to the home of their uncle at Chalk
Level, all to meet at the rendezvous at Sni Mills in five weeks.
But as they shook hands at parting, little did they think that one of
them would not be alive to keep the appointment!
John's decision was his death-knell!
When Captain Lull arrived at Monegaw Springs, from Chicago, to take
charge of the demoralized forces of the Pinkertons after their abortive
attempt to trap Jesse at Brett's camp, he spent only time enough at
the health resort to learn the details and transferred his base of
operations to Osceola.
Realizing that his actions would be hampered should it be known that he
was a detective, Lull took the name of Allen and gave it out that he
was acting as a buyer for a cattleman who was then in St. Louis.
This city was selected because the man-hunter had a clever friend,
named Wright, whom he wished to have assist him in running the bandits
to cover.
The way thus paved for Wright's coming and their subsequent trips
through the surrounding country, Lull, or Allen, sent a code despatch
summoning the amateur sleuth.
"Find everyone of their friends or relatives in the vicinity of
the Springs," declared the latter when he had been apprised of the
situation. Yet before they could put the plan into operation, the news
of the raid on the bank and the sensational imprisonment of young
Rozier was flashed throughout the world.
"That won't make any difference to us. In fact it increases the chances
of our success," asserted Wright when he read the report. "If Jesse was
shrewd enough to know that he could commit a robbery at the other side
of the state when everybody thought he was in hiding about the Springs,
he'll resort to the same tactics and come back here in the belief that
the search will be the hottest around Ste. Genevieve."
Convinced by the argument, Lull acquiesced in the proposition to
remain. And though their scheme did not catch the man they wanted, it
did catch one of the outlaws.
Having pursued their inquiries as far as they could, the man-hunters
found themselves balked by the suspicion of the natives for strangers.
And to remove the barrier, they finally pressed an inhabitant of
Osceola, Edward Daniels by name, into service as a guide.
A friend of both the Jameses and Youngers in their youth, Daniels
suggested that a visit to the house of the latters' uncle, Theodoric
Snuffer, at Chalk Level, might not be without result.
Accordingly they decided to visit the place a week after the looting of
the bank, that the outlaws might have ample time to return across the
state.
With an early start, the three supposed cattle buyers arrived at
Snuffers' just at noon.
John and Jim were eating dinner when the strangers stopped in front of
the gate and their suspicions were instantly aroused.
In response to a hail, the old miser went to the door.
"How do we get to the Widow Sims?" asked Lull.
"Turn to your left, about two rods from where you are, and follow the
path, through my field. It's about a mile and you can't miss it, for
there ain't no other shanty 'round."
Thanking Mr. Snuffer for the directions, the detectives rode on.
But as they went, the two bandits watched them from the window.
"That was only a bluff, asking about Widow Sims," declared Jim as the
man-hunters passed the path about which they had been told. "I'll bet
they're detectives. Let's go and look 'em over."
The proposition met with the instant approval of his brother and taking
an extra brace of pistols, they saddled their ponies and rode after the
man-hunters.
Rounding a bend in the road, the Youngers suddenly came face to face
with the man-hunters as the latter were retracing their course.
"Ed Daniels!" exclaimed Jim in amazement at the sight of his old friend.
"It's John and Jim Younger," whispered the traitor to Lull and then
whirled his horse and dashed into the underbrush.
Their astonishment at such action on the part of their old associate
was instantly explained.
"Throw up your hands!" commanded Lull, covering the outlaws with his
revolvers.
But the desperadoes' answer was borne by leaden slugs!
Drawing their six-shooters with wonderful quickness, they fired at the
detectives.
John's bullet struck Lull in the breast and he toppled from his saddle.
Yet as he fell, he fired his revolver and John pitched to the ground,
his jugular vein severed by the shot.
Beside himself with grief, as he saw the blood spurting from his
brother's neck, Jim emptied his revolver at the fast disappearing form
of Wright, without stopping him, however.
Tears pouring from his eyes, he turned toward John's dead body, when he
heard a gun bark and felt a burning sensation in the fleshy part of his
right hip.
"Ed Daniels, I'll have your heart's blood!" he shrieked, as he leaped
his horse into the underbrush in the direction from which the sound had
come.
Not expecting such a move, the traitor was caught facing the infuriated
desperado and before he could pull the trigger of his pistol a bullet
crashed through his forehead.
Satisfied with the killing of the man who was responsible for his
brother's death, Jim returned to the lifeless body, picked it up
tenderly and, with the blood drenching his clothes, rode with it in his
arms into his uncle's door-yard.
Tarrying only long enough to carry the corpse inside the house and to
give instructions to the miser to have it properly buried, on pain
of death, Jim tossed him a bill to defray the expenses, took John's
money from his clothes, kissed his lifeless lips, rushed to his horse,
vaulted into the saddle and dashed from the yard, scattering the
neighbours, who had been attracted by the firing, right and left as he
quickly vanished from sight in the woods.