Military operations for his capture.—Col. Bowen captures the
Cave.—Progress of the campaign.—Advent of Gov. McClurg.—The
militia called out.—Don Quixote affair at the Brick Church.—The
campaign ended.—Mrs. Hildebrand escapes to Illinois.—“Sam”
leaves Missouri.—His final proclamation.
My narrative would not be complete without a history of the military
operations carried on by authority of the State government for my
capture or destruction; yet I must depend almost exclusively upon what
my friends told me from time to time as those events were transpiring.
A few days after the fight at Williams‘, a detective with a dirty face
and hair uncombed; riding an old mule, with a pack saddle and blind
bridle, went to Big River Mills, and inquired of Dr. Keith and Samuel
B. Herrod where “Sam Hildebrand” was, as he was an old “war chum” whom
he wanted to assist. His ragged coat and old hat condemned him at
once as a detective, for we were in the habit of dressing well during
the war, as our _credit_ was always good while we were well armed. He
failed to elicit any information from them; in fact at this time I was
nursing my wounds in the cave, and the dismal scene of my suffering was
only visited by that angel of mercy, a kind sister.
It appears that the Police Commissioner of St. Louis sent Col. Bowen,
McQueen, Schuster and Wadkins on a second expedition against me. They
were joined at Irondale by Hughes, King, Fatchet and Zoleman; and on
Big river by Joe McGahan and Dennis O‘Leary.
Col. Bowen, with his men, went to the house of my sister on the 21st
day of June, just before daylight, and questioned her about where I
was. My sister of course refused to answer any of their questions, but
on threatening to hang two of her youngest boys, one of them divulged
all that he knew.
On the evening of the 22d the party arrested William Harris, my
brother-in-law, also Mr. Cash and Mr. Dunham, and hung them up by the
neck until they extorted from them the fact that I lived in a cave in
a certain bluff which they described. This bluff rises perpendicularly
nearly three hundred feet above the waters of Big river, which runs at
its base. A skirt of high timber on the margin of the river in a great
measure hides the bold front of this towering mass of rock from view.
The cave can be seen neither from the top nor bottom, for it is about
two hundred feet from the bottom, and is hid by a projecting rock in
front. From the cave in one direction along the seam in the rock there
is a narrow and very difficult causeway running several hundred yards
where it can be approached from above and below. This narrow turnpike
can easily be defended by one man against five hundred. I regret that
I was not in my castle when Col. Bowen and his posse were prowling
around in front of the cave on the morning of the 23d, I would have
had more fun than I did at Williams‘ house, where they had so much the
advantage of me.
I retired from the cave during the night, and was absent when the party
came to see my castle. They remained near the cave all day, but did not
think it prudent to peep in to see whether I was at home or not. On the
following night they built a large fire on the projection in front of
the cavern, and kept it supplied with wood which they threw from the
top of the bluff.
On the next morning they learned from Mr. Nash, whom they hung by the
neck awhile, that I was not in the cave.
On receiving this welcome information the party scaled the bluff and
took the whole place by storm. The next move to capture me was through
a confession made by a son of Mr. Nash, that he was to meet me at a
certain point at night with a quart of whisky.
Col. Bowen determined to capture me and the “_quart_,” so he and
his party reconnoitered the place for several hours, but I kept two
hundreds yards from them. They were welcome to the whisky, for I
considered it my treat; and after taking a hearty drink from the branch
I went away perfectly satisfied.
After the capture of my cave, Col. Bowen made his headquarters at G.
W. Murphy‘s. There of course he lived well; the boys were all happy,
drawing good wages and incurring no danger, for I solemnly promised
my friends that I would not kill a single one of them unless they
should indeed discover me. The first time I saw Col. Bowen after his
removal to Murphy‘s was three or four days after he had captured the
bluff. I was aiming to cross the road two or three hundred yards east
of Murphy‘s house, when on getting in a small glade fifteen steps from
the road I heard horses‘ feet coming from the direction of Big River
Mills. I stood behind a cedar bush with a cocked pistol in each hand.
Col. Bowen rode by me with two of his men, but none of them turned
their heads, and I moved around the bush as they passed.
[Illustration: HILDEBRAND‘S CAVE.]
I did not wish to hurt them; I had a high regard for the Colonel, and
respected him for his magnanimity in not burning my cave after he had
captured it, for I must say that he was the first man who ever drove me
out of a place without setting it on fire.
A few days after this I concluded to hobble over to where my family
was, for the purpose of paying them a short visit; but on passing
through a wheat field I was discovered by a certain man who reported
me. Col. Bowen took a squad of men to watch around my house at night.
Before arriving there it was dark and raining; and as I heard the tramp
of their horses I stepped out of the road until they had passed. I
followed them on until they got near the house and commenced placing
out their pickets.
After the campaign had continued several weeks, it became apparent that
the forces already in the field were insufficient for my capture;
the disloyalty of the people of St. Francois county had been greatly
magnified. Certain evil men in the neighborhood desired nothing so much
as a pretext for martial law; some of them had rioted in murder and
pillage during the war, and they knew that in all civil commotions the
dregs arise to the top.
Governor McClurg is a good man; I can say that much for him, but in
the goodness of his nature he is slow in detecting the evil designs
of some of his party friends who live in the under current of
cunning rascality. To show the tardiness and disloyalty of the civil
authorities in St. Francois county, Sheriff Murphy was ordered, just as
the farmers had whetted their scythes and were preparing to enter their
harvest fields, to call out the militia throughout the county to aid in
scouring the woods. To the mortification of the plotters, he responded
and the people turned out.
Then the report was started that I was concealed in a deep mineral
shaft among the Pike Run Hills. Murphy and his party scrambled over
that terrible country until every snake was crushed by their feet.
This severe ordeal continued for two or three weeks until fortunately
the Governor made his advent on Big river, and was welcomely received
by all parties. To my regret I was out of the ring; however, I was
anxious to see Governor McClurg, for I had never yet seen a Governor;
and having been informed by my friends that he would make a speech
in Farmington on the following day, I posted myself in the corner of
a fence at the end of a lane on the Green place about five miles from
Farmington and watched for him to come along, knowing that he would
pass on that road.
I did not intend to molest him, or even to speak an unkind word; but I
was anxious that he might be alone so that I could step out, shake him
by the hand, give him a drink out of my bottle, and have a social chat.
When he passed me he was riding by the side of a Methodist preacher
from Caledonia, named Williams; he was followed by a train of about
forty men, the saints being in front and the sinners in the rear. Not
liking the rear-guard very well, I did not join in the procession, but
retired further back in the woods.
Under the impression that the Governor would deliver a speech at the
court house that night, I concluded that I would go and hear what he
had to say about me. After dark I made my way to town and secreted
myself opposite the court house door among some goods boxes near
Fleming‘s store.
I saw no indications, however, of a public meeting; I made a motion
to adjourn, which was seconded by a large woolly dog that found me
occupying his sleeping apartment.
I ascertained afterwards that McClurg did make a speech during the day,
and that it was anything but flattering to me. To avoid the necessity
of a resort to martial law, the citizens were very clamorous in their
protestations of holy horror at the very name of Hildebrand. They
passed a long string of resolutions; the first declaring that “Sam
Hilderbrand ought to be arrested;” the second that “it would be proper
to arrest Sam Hilderbrand;” the third “that to arrest Sam Hilderbrand
would be a good idea;” the other sixteen resolutions not differing
materially from the first three, I need not repeat.
The resolutions being read to me a few days afterwards, I fully
sanctioned them, and cruised around several days myself, in search of
desperadoes.
Governor McClurg appointed six deputy sheriffs for St. Francois county;
their number was afterwards increased to ten, each one of whom were
allowed a posse of ten men, by which arrangement one hundred men would
be in active service.
In order to create the impression that he was performing some
prodigious deeds of valor, Col. Bowen pretended to have fought a
terrible battle single handed with “Sam Hildebrand and his men” at the
Brick Church on Big river.
I have heard the battle at the Brick Church frequently mentioned, and
I have a word to say in regard to that matter. I was not there myself,
neither was any of my friends at the time the firing took place.
The whole tragedy was concocted by the cunning of Col. Bowen himself,
in order to cut a figure and stamp himself a hero.
I could easily have killed him at any time previous to this, but as he
had done me no harm, and was not likely to do any, I took the advice
of my friends and let him peaceably pursue his brilliant campaigns for
the sake of eclipsing the renown of Don Quixote.
It seems that two of his men had stationed themselves in the brush
near the Brick Church by the road leading from his headquarters at G.
W. Murphy‘s to Big River Mills. On a certain evening between sunset
and dark, when Sheriff Murphy and himself were riding by the church on
their way from Big River Mills, those two men in ambush fired off their
guns. The valiant Colonel drew out his pistol and commenced firing; but
to prevent the sheriff from taking a pop at the two men, he cried out
to him to dash on to Big River Mills for more men, which he did and
soon returned.
The Colonel remained on the ground and was master of the field, but his
horse was slightly wounded by a shot nearly perpendicular, which might
have been made by himself. The horse, however, not understanding the
matter thoroughly, threw his master high in the air; but luckily the
Colonel came down head foremost, and striking on a rock he received no
injury except a ringing in his head like the rattling of a cow-bell.
He dispatched one of his men to Irondale to telegraph to the
authorities at St. Louis the astounding intelligence that at the Brick
Church, Col. Bowen had encountered the irrepressible “Sam Hildebrand”
and his band of out-laws; that his horse had been shot from under him,
but that single-handed he had driven the enemy from the field, and
only received a slight wound. This Don Quixote campaign against me
terminated in a spree, and the Colonel returned to St. Louis.
Previous to this, however, by Col. Bowen‘s orders, my wife and children
were removed, first to Irondale and then to Farmington; they remained
at the latter place under the supervision of the sheriff for a month.
They were kindly treated, but my wife was anxious to escape from the
ceaseless annoyance of Bowen‘s military operations.
On a certain night a friend of mine from Illinois, named Crittenden,
proceeded into Farmington with a light wagon, and before the break of
day my wife and family were in Ste. Genevieve county, on their way to
Illinois. They stopped for breakfast at a house by the roadside, and
by a strange coincidence it proved to be the house of the late James
McLaine. The widow, not knowing the party, made them very welcome, and
in apologizing for her straitened circumstances, observed: “I am now
left a destitute widow, and all these poor little children of mine are
left orphans, by the hand of Sam Hildebrand.”
Mrs. McLaine‘s father, George Shumate was present, and while the good
woman was preparing breakfast, he addressed himself to Crittenden, and
gave a terrible account of my desperate deeds.
After breakfast the party arose to continue their journey; the widow
would have nothing for her trouble. My wife, taking Mrs. McLaine
kindly by the hand, said:
“Mrs. McLaine, I am sorry for you—truly sorry for you and your
dear little children; sorry for the many hardships you have had to
encounter. I know how to sympathize with you, for I am a widow myself.”
“You a widow?”
“Yes, Mrs. McLaine; I am worse than a widow—I am the wife of Sam
Hildebrand!”
The good woman stood amazed and said nothing; but the look that Mr.
Shumate gave Crittenden was truly comical: he drew up his neck, threw
his head a little back, and exclaimed:
“Well—my—God! and you are not Sam Hildebrand—are you?”
“Oh, no sir! I am not; but his wife here is my cousin.”
They continued on to Illinois, and as soon as all military operations
against me in Missouri had subsided, I left the State; and since that
time I have been wandering through the Southern States as a peaceable
citizen.
The Governor‘s reward against me, of course, is still unrepealed; and
I hope that it will be chiseled into one of the pillars of the State
Capitol, that it may be handed down to posterity in the same category
with two rewards offered during the last generation—one for a feasible
northwest passage, and the other for the invention of perpetual motion.
Let the legend pass down the corridors of time to the latest
generation, that the strange flickering light sometimes seen at night
in the dreary lowlands of the South is none other than “Jack with his
lantern” trying to get the reward by finding Sam Hildebrand.
If the strange hallucination should ever enter the mind of a man that I
could be captured, let him immediately send for a physician, have his
head emptied and filled up with clabber to give him a better set of
brains.
All fighting between “Uncle Sam” and myself has ceased long ago. He
came out of the war unconquered—and so did I.
It will be a long time, however, before he gets entirely over the
effects of our fight. I am hale, and have the free use of my limbs;
but his southern arm is paralyzed, he is terribly in debt, can only
see out of one eye, and his constitution is broken; he has the KuKlux
nightmare, the Salt Lake cancer; the African leprosy, the Fenian
rickets, the bondholder‘s cramp, and the Congressional blind staggers.
The war left me out of debt, with a good horse, and forty dollars in
cash.
As several proclamations have been issued against me, without ever
eliciting one in return, I shall now swing my hat and proclaim:
“Peace and good will to all men; a general amnesty toward the United
States, and to ‘Uncle Sam‘—so long as the said Uncle Sam shall behave
himself.”
Transcriber’s Note:
Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation are as in the original.