THE GAINS' PLACE STAGE ROBBERY.
"Their cruel bandits you would climb
The rungs of the world! oh, curse sublime
With tears and laughters for all time."
They used to say that the James Boys and the Younger Brothers might
kill men who attempted to impose upon them, but they would not rob
or steal. Those who rob men of life must be the greatest criminals,
and the lesser crimes are included in the greater. The career they
had chosen required the service which money alone can render.
These men had need for money which their legitimate resources were
inadequate to supply. Those who have taken many lives will not
hesitate long to take a few dollars when their necessities require
it. Such are the laws which govern human actions.
Long before many of the very respectable citizens of Clay, Clinton
and Jackson counties believed it, the sons of the excellent
minister whom they had known were the most unscrupulous and daring
highwaymen who had ever followed the roads on this continent. The
Jameses early became the most dangerous outlaws of which history
gives us any account. They were bold, but cautious; skilled in
the school of cunning; trained in the art of killing; shrewd in
planning, and swift in the execution of their designs.
They seldom attempted a robbery except in out-of-the-way places
where the presence of robbers was not expected. Nor did they ever
attempt robberies a second time at the same place. Their plan was
to strike unexpected blows. This week they would rob a train at
Gad's Hill, next week at Muncie, Kansas; again, they would arrest
a stage on the Malvern and Hot Springs road, and then again they
would flag a train at Big Springs, Wyoming Territory, a thousand
miles from the scene of their last exploit.
It was a gray, raw day in January, 1874, when the regular stage
running from Malvern, on the St. Louis, Iron Mountain & Southern
Railway, to Hot Springs, pulled out from the little town. Two
ambulances for the accommodation of the afflicted pilgrims bound
for that Mecca of relief, accompanied the stage on the road.
This cavalcade had reached the romantic vale of the Golpha, near
the old Gains' mansion. This is a narrow dell, shut in by abrupt
hills, clad with a dense forest of pine and tangled underbrush and
evergreen vines. At this particular place the valley widens, and
there is a beautiful farm and lovely grounds bordering the roadside
on the east and north side of the stream. West and south the deep,
tangled forest crowns the hills, which rise to a great height.
Here is a favorite halting place for travelers along that way.
The clear waters of the Golpha afford refreshing draughts to the
wearied teams.
We have said it was a gray, raw morning in January. The long
drive from Malvern over the stony roads inclined the passengers,
as well as the horses, to rest. That particular Thursday morning
the drivers had stopped, as usual, directly opposite the Gains
residence, which is about two hundred yards from the road,
toward the northeast. The spot is about five miles southeast
from Hot Springs. A little beyond the stopping place the road
crosses the stream at a ford. Beyond the creek the country is
very rugged, and covered with forest trees. And in those trees a
band of robbers were crouched, waiting the approach of the stage
and ambulances. The unsuspecting pilgrims were soon moving on,
inwardly congratulating themselves on the near termination of their
fatiguing journey.
The stage and ambulances had proceeded well into the wood on the
Hot Springs side of the Golpha, perhaps half a mile from "the
watering place," when a strong, emphatic voice called out from
the borders of the brush: "Stop! d--n you, or I'll blow your head
off!" Thus commanded, of course the driver of the stage brought
his team to a standstill. The passengers naturally threw aside the
flaps of the vehicles and thrust out their heads to ascertain what
the strange proceedings meant. They saw at once. Cocked revolvers
yawned before them, and stern, harsh voices exclaimed in chorus,
"D--n you, tumble out!" "Certainly, under the circumstances, we
will do so with alacrity," replied one of the passengers, a Mr.
Charles Moore. "Raise your hands, you d--d----." Of course every
passenger promptly obeyed the order. One passenger, a rheumatic
invalid, alone, was left undisturbed. Then the leader cried out:
"Come! be quick, form a circle here!"
The order was obeyed. Then two of the robbers, one of whom was
armed with a double-barrel shot-gun and the other with a navy
repeater, mounted guard over the prisoners, and made many sinister
remarks, doubtless intended to be jocose, but which kept the
prisoners in a tremor of apprehension all the while.
Then two of the brigands proceeded to examine the effects and
pockets of the passengers.
When the affable gentlemen of the road had completed their
undertaking, they proceeded in the coolest manner imaginable
to cast up their accounts. They had lost in cash--nothing; in
jewelry--naught; in conscience--well, it happened they didn't have
any to lose. They had gained from sundry passengers as follows:
Ex-Gov. Burbank, of Dakota, cash, $ 850 00
" " " " diamond pin, 350 00
" " " " gold watch, 250 00
Passenger from Syracuse, N. Y., 160 00
William Taylor, Esq., Lowell, Mass., 650 00
John Dietrich, Esq., Little Rock, Ark., 200 00
Charles Moore, Esq., " " 70 00
E. A. Peebles, Hot Springs, 20 00
Three country farmers, 45 00
Southern Express Company, 450 00
Geo. R. Crump, Memphis, Tenn., 45 00
------
Total, $3,090 00
It was a very good morning's work, and the bandits were so well
pleased that they were inclined to indulge in a sort of grim
facetiousness. One of them unharnessed the best stage horse,
saddled him and mounted him, and after trying his gait by riding up
and down the road a few times, called out:
"Boys, I reckon he'll do!"
Another one of the band went to each passenger as he stood in the
circle. John Dietrich was the first to pass through the ordeal of
cross-examination.
"Where are you from?"
"Little Rock," replied Dietrich.
"Ah, ha!"
"Yes, have a boot and shoe store there," remarked Dietrich.
"You'd better be there attending to it," was the observation of the
chief of the bandits.
"Are there any Southern men here?"
"I am," replied Mr. Crump and three others.
"Any who served in the army?"
"I did," said Crump.
The leader then asked him what regiment he belonged to, and
what part of the country he had served in. The answers were
satisfactory, and then the robber handed Crump his watch and money,
remarking as he did so:
"Well, you look like an honest fellow. I guess you're all right. We
don't want to rob Confederate soldiers. But the d--d Yankees have
driven us all into outlawry, and we will make them pay for it yet."
Mr. Taylor, of Lowell, Mass., was examined.
"Where are you from?"
"St. Louis."
"Yes, and d--n your soul, you are a reporter for the St. Louis
_Democrat_, the vilest sheet in the land. Go to Hot Springs and
send the dirty concern a telegram about this affair, and give them
my compliments, will you?"
Then Governor Burbank felt encouraged to ask a favor of them.
"Will you please return me my papers?" asked the Governor. "They
are valuable to me, but I am sure you can make no use of them."
"We'll see," said the leader, sententiously, and took the packet
and kneeled down to examine them.
In a few moments he took up a paper with an official seal, that
excited his ire, and before he paused to examine it sufficiently to
enable him to determine its character, he reached the conclusion
that the bearer was a detective, a class which he held in the
utmost hatred.
"Boys, I believe he's a detective--shoot him, at once!" was the
sententious command. In an instant Governor Burbank was covered
by three ready cocked dragoon pistols. The ex-Governor was on the
border of time.
"Stop!" cried the robber, "I reckon it's all right. Here, take your
papers."
And the ex-Governor felt that a mighty load had suddenly been
lifted from him, and that a dark cloud, which but a moment before
had enshrouded the world in the deepest gloom of midnight, had
drifted away, allowing the bright sun to shine out on the scenes of
time.
The passenger from Syracuse asked for the return of $5, to enable
him to telegraph home for assistance.
The chief looked at him rather sternly for a few moments, and said:
"So, you have no friends nor money. You had better go and die.
Your death would be no loss to yourself or the country. You'll get
nothing back, at any rate."
All this while one of the robbers, said to have been James Younger,
held a double-barrel shot-gun cocked in his hand, which he pointed
ever and anon at Mr. Taylor, the supposed _Democrat_ reporter,
making such cheerful remarks as these: "Boys, I'll bet a hundred
dollar bill I can shoot his hat off his head and not touch a hair
on it." And the others would respond with a banter of a very
uncomfortable character, while the facetious bandit went on: "Now,
wouldn't that button on his coat make a good mark. I'll bet a
dollar I can clip it off and not cut the coat!" With such grim
jests did he amuse himself and torment the captive.
Having thoroughly accomplished their work, the bandits made the
drivers hitch up their teams and drive away. The whole transaction
was completed in less than ten minutes. The robbers did not linger.
In a few minutes they scattered through the brush. Some "struck
out," as they expressed it, for the Nation, another for Texas, and
one for Louisiana.
Of course, denials of complicity on the part of the Jameses in this
affair were at once entered by their friends. But it has since been
ascertained that the party who did the deed consisted of Frank and
Jesse James, Coleman and James Younger, and Clell Miller, one of
the associates of the daring outlaws.