Bob and I had a close call with the St. Louis police in the fall of that
year. The bank at Huntington, West Virginia, was robbed the first of
September that year, and in the chase of the robbers Thompson McDaniels,
who had fought with us in the war, was shot and fatally hurt. In his
delirium he called for “Bud,” and many, among whom was Detective Ely of
Louisville, thought that he meant me, I having been known familiarly
throughout the war as “Bud” Younger. This fact has made careless writers
connect Brother Bob with some of my exploits, and in his case it served to
throw suspicion on me when in fact it was probably “Bud” or Bill
McDaniels, Thompson’s brother, about whom he was raving. Bill was killed
shortly before, escaping from arrest for complicity in the Muncie train
robbery.
Shortly after this Huntington affair Bob and I were coming north from
Florida. We had ridden as far as Nashville, and sold our horses there,
carrying the saddle pockets with us. Shortly before we reached St. Louis
we met the morning papers, full of the Huntington robbery, and the
statement that the robbers Were headed for Missouri. Knowing that we
would be watched for in St. Louis, I told Bob we would have to go through
anyway. There were some farmers’ families on the train from White county,
Tennessee, who were moving to the big bend of the Arkansas river, the men
and goods having gone on ahead by freight. We determined to get in with
these people and bluff it through. As they always do at St. Louis when on
the lookout, a lot of detectives boarded the train at East St. Louis and
came through, but I was busy showing one of the small boys the river, and
Bob had a little girl who was equally interested in the strange city
before her. Gathering up a lot of the baggage of the women folks, we went
through the union depot. Chief of Detectives McDonough was standing by
the gate and I saw him as I passed within a few feet of him, but he made
no sign. We took the women down town to the office where they got their
rebates on their tickets, and then we took them back to the depot and left
them, very grateful for our considerate attention, although, perhaps, we
were under as deep obligations to them as they were to us, if they had
known all the facts.
[Illustration: Bob Younger]