Trip with three men.—Captured a Spy and shot him.—Shot
Scaggs.—At night charged a Federal camp of one hundred
men.—Killed nine men.—Had one man wounded.—Came near shooting
James Craig.—Robbed Bean‘s store and returned to Arkansas.
My family still remained in Cook settlement, in St. Francois county,
Mo., and as they were in the enemy‘s country, I did not think it
prudent to pay them a visit, knowing that it would only bring ruin upon
them if the fact of my visit should ever become known to the Unionists
in that county. But I determined by some means or other to effect their
escape to Arkansas as soon as it would be prudent to make the attempt.
Capt. Bolin and his men had promised me their co-operation if called
upon for that purpose; but I was well aware that our whole force would
be insufficient for the accomplishment of the object, if attempted by
force of arms, for two or three thousand men could be brought against
me in less than twenty-four hours.
To keep myself well posted in regard to the strength of the enemy along
the route, I selected three of Quantril‘s men, and in the latter part
of September, started on another raid into Missouri. On arriving at
the St. Francis river we found it swimming, but made no halt on that
account, having by this time become inured to all kinds of hardships
and dangers.
On the second day after we started we left the main road and diverged
several miles to our right, for the purpose of traveling in day time.
On getting within sight of a house we discovered some one run into the
yard, and immediately afterwards we saw a little boy running toward a
barn. The movement being a little suspicious, we dashed forward and
were soon on each side of the barn. We discovered a man through a
crack, and demanded his surrender; he came to the door and threw up
his hands. On taking him back into the barn, we discovered his bundle
to contain a complete Federal uniform, and when we noticed that the
citizen‘s dress which he had on was much too small for him, we at once
pronounced him a Federal spy. We found a letter in his pocket, written
by a man by the name of Scaggs, to the authorities at Fredericktown,
containing the names of his rebel neighbors, whom he was desirous of
having burned out. One of the men in the list I happened to know, and
by that means I knew that Scaggs lived about seven miles from there. We
took the spy half a mile and shot him, then, changing our course, we
started on the hunt for Scaggs, whose residence, however, we did not
find until after dark. Dressed in Federal uniform, we rode up to the
gate and called him out. On arresting him we took him to the house of
a friend, who told us that Scaggs had already made two widows in that
neighborhood by reporting their husbands. We took him with us until
daylight appeared, hung him to a limb in the woods, and made our way
toward Castor creek, in Madison county.
The next night, on crossing Castor creek, we discovered a camp of
Federals; judging them to be about twenty or thirty strong, we
concluded to charge them for a few minutes; but on getting into their
camp we found that there were three or four times as many as we
expected; so we charged on through as quick as possible, still two of
our horses were killed and one of my men was slightly wounded in the
fleshy part of his thigh. After getting through their camp, we captured
the four pickets who were placed in a lane on the opposite side. As we
came from the wrong direction, they mistook us for their own men, until
we had taken them in. My two men who had lost their horses, now mounted
those taken from the pickets. As soon as the pickets told us that they
were Leeper‘s men, we shot them and hurried on.
On our return, at another time, we were told by the citizens that we
killed five and wounded several more in our charge through their camp;
making nine men killed, including the pickets.
My wounded man could not be kept in Missouri with any degree of safety,
and according to the usage of the petty tyrants who commanded the
little squads of Federals, it would have been death to any man under
whose roof the wounded man might have taken refuge; the man, without
any questions asked, would have been shot, his house and property
burned, and his wife and children turned out into the world, houseless,
forlorn and destitute. To avoid the infliction of such a calamity upon
any of our friends, my wounded man was under the necessity of making
his way alone back into Arkansas.
My other two men and myself traveled the remainder of the night in
the direction of my old home in St. Francois county. I learned that a
prolonged effort was made on the following day to trail us up to our
camp in the woods; but a rain having fallen about daylight, our tracks
were entirely destroyed. On the following night we made our way to
the house of a friend, near the ruins of my once happy home. Here I
remained, resting myself and scouting over the country on foot, two
whole days and nights, trying to shoot some of the miscreants who had
belonged to the old mob, but they kept themselves so closely huddled
that I had no chance at them.
On the second day, however, while lying near the road, James Craig,
captain of the mob—which by this time had assumed the name of
Militia—with two men whom I did not recognize, came along, riding very
fast. I got a bead on Craig, but my gun did not fire; and I will say
here, that this was the only time during the war that old “Kill-devil”
deceived me.
On returning to my friend near my old home, he stated to me that
our horses, which we had concealed in a nook in one of the bluffs
of Big river, had been discovered by some boys who were hunting,
and that they had gone to report to the militia. Upon receiving this
intelligence, we started at once to our horses, found them all right,
and, not being satisfied with the results of our trip, we concluded to
obtain some supplies from our good Union friends before leaving. We got
on Flat river about the middle of the afternoon, and rode up to a store
kept by the sons of John Bean, one of whom belonged to the Vigilance
mob—but he was not there.
The boys had sense enough to make no demonstration, so, without
damaging anything whatever, I took such things as we needed, in part
payment for my property which the mob had destroyed.
The boys looked a little displeased; they considered us bad customers,
and did not even take the trouble to book the articles against us.
The militia, having received the report of the boys, mustered their
whole force and, on the following day, struck our trail and overtook us
between Pilot Knob and Fredericktown; they followed us about ten miles,
but only got sight of us occasionally on the tops of hills we had to
pass over. Night came, and we neither saw nor heard them any more. We
traveled all night and about daylight we rode up to the house of a man
named Slater, in the southern part of Wayne county, Missouri, for whom
we had been watching for some time. He had made himself very busy ever
since the beginning of the war by reporting Southern men. He succeeded
in having several of them imprisoned, and their families impoverished.
We found him at home; his manhood wilted like a cabbage leaf; we took
him about a mile from home and shot him.
We then pursued our way home to Green county, Arkansas, and divided
our spoils amongst the destitute families driven there by the ruthless
hands of Northern sympathizers.