THE ATTACK AT NORTHFIELD--HAYWOOD'S DEATH.
Sometime before noon on the 7th of September, four well mounted and
well armed men approached Northfield from the north. They did not
at once enter the town, but remained on that side of the bridge
in the suburbs for the advance of the other division of the band,
which came via Dundas, a small station on the line of the railway
about four miles south of Northfield. The brigands from Dundas were
Cole and James Younger, Bill Chadwell and Clell Miller. On the
north side were Frank and Jesse James, Charlie Pitts and Robert
Younger. About 2 o'clock in the afternoon, Cole Younger and his
party appeared, then the brigands rode into town and directly to
the bank, the exact position of which had been before ascertained.
Jesse and Frank James and Cole Younger dismounted and entered the
bank. The brigands had entered the town at a full charge, shouting
at the top of their voices and firing off their pistols as they
rode. The inhabitants were taken by surprise, but were not at all
panic-stricken. The movement on the bank was noted, and its object
at once comprehended.
The three leading brigands who had entered the bank proceeded to
business at once. They sprang over the counter and confronted the
surprised cashier, Mr. J. L. Haywood, with a huge knife, which they
placed at his throat, and ordered him to open the safe, threatening
him with instant death in case he refused. The knife had already
marked his throat, but the brave cashier refused to comply with
their demands. Again with fearful threats the command was repeated.
But Haywood still persisted in his refusal, when one of them, now
generally believed to have been Jesse James, placed the muzzle of
his pistol to Haywood's right temple, and fired. The cashier fell,
and expired ere he had touched the floor. Besides the cashier,
there were Mr. A. E. Bunker, assistant cashier, and Mr. Frank
Wilcox, clerk. These were ordered to hold up their hands when the
robbers first entered. Of course, under the circumstances, they
could not do otherwise than to obey. After Haywood fell they turned
to Mr. Bunker and ordered him to open the vault. That gentleman
declared that he did not know the combination. Then they thrust a
pistol into his face and made other threatening demonstrations.
Mr. Bunker, acting under an impulse to preserve his own life, fled
out through the back door. As he ran, the robbers fired at him,
the ball taking effect in his shoulder. They seem not to have paid
any further attention to Mr. Wilcox, but occupied the remainder
of the brief time allowed them in efforts to find the cashier's
money drawer. The nickel drawer was found, and they scattered the
contents of that over the floor.
Meanwhile, an exciting scene was transpiring in the street in front
of the bank building. A Mr. Wheeler, a young gentleman who occupied
a second-story room in a building opposite, happened to possess a
gun. Seizing this weapon, he took deliberate aim and fired. The
ball took effect, and Charlie Pitts, a notorious Texas desperado,
fell from his horse, shot through the heart. The shots fired by the
brigands who had remained on the street did not have the desired
effect in intimidating the citizens of Northfield. In a few moments
many citizens who had seized guns and pistols, and whatever other
weapons came in their way, were rushing toward the bank. Mr.
Wheeler having been so successful in his first shot, fired a second
time, and Bill Chadwell fell, mortally wounded, from his horse. By
this time others were firing from windows, and one of the horses
was struck and fell dead. Another horse which had been ridden by
Charlie Pitts ran through the street. Another one of the band was
struck by a bullet, but managed to keep his place.
The situation was desperate. The leaders in the bank had not
succeeded in getting anything, when the events happening in the
street admonished them that their only salvation was in immediate
flight. They rushed out of the bank, mounted their horses, and the
six living bandits galloped away. Indeed, there was need that they
should. Already a band of fifty citizens, well mounted and well
armed, were nearly ready to take the road in pursuit. At the head
of this party rode Wheeler, who had already proved himself to be
cool and daring.
The flight of the discomfited robbers was rapid. These free riders
would never mount an inferior horse. But chances for escape were
very few. The robbery, or rather, bold attempt at robbery, and
especially the death of Mr. Haywood, a gentleman held in the very
highest esteem by the community at Northfield, had created a state
of feeling in the public mind which would not allow the people to
rest satisfied until the murderers were either captured or killed.
In less than twenty-four hours the whole region about was notified
of the occurrence at Northfield, and not less than four hundred
well armed and well mounted men were in hot pursuit of the six
surviving brigands.
The excitement occasioned by the events at Northfield was at fever
heat. Efforts to capture the outlaws were further stimulated by the
proclamation of Governor Pillsbury offering a reward of $1,000 for
the apprehension of each of the robbers, or $6,000 for the capture
of the survivors of the band.
The bandits fled in a southwestern direction, toward the little
hamlet of Shieldsville, situated about 20 miles on an air line,
southwest from the scene of the tragedy at Northfield. The route
taken by the robbers made the distance more than twenty-five miles;
yet they were at Shieldsville before dark. They passed straight
through the place and made no concealment of their identity.
Shieldsville is a small post village, containing a population
of no more than 175 souls. As they passed through the village,
they shouted to the citizens who were on the streets to get into
their houses, and they made such demonstrations by firing off
their pistols that the people were greatly alarmed. The pursuers
meanwhile were gathering about them. Sheriff Davis and posse were
behind them; Sheriff Estes and posse were before them, and there
were officers and armed citizens to the right and to the left of
them. Their situation became extremely critical after leaving
Shieldsville.
But the indomitable courage of the bandits seemed for a time to
promise them a final escape.
From Shieldsville the bandits travelled in a westerly direction
toward Kilkenny, a post town and railway station in Le Sueur
county. They were now avoiding the towns and travelled highways,
and keeping in the forest, and travelling through the farms. All
the crossing places on the streams were guarded by armed citizens.
The guards at the ford on French creek became alarmed at the
approach of the bandits and fled, so that they met no resistance
at the crossing place. They remained one night for rest in a large
forest near Kilkenny. The next morning they crossed the ford at
Little Canyon. They pressed on toward the west. The route was beset
with difficulties and dangers for them. They were anxious to reach
the borderland, the frontier region, where men are few and wild.
There was no rest for them. It was at length necessary for them
to abandon their horses. They had camped in the depths of a great
forest. The officials had taken to the by-paths and scoured
the woods in search of them. Leaving their horses and some of
their heavier clothing, they trudged on foot, skulking among the
thickets. Their progress was slow. One day they camped on a sort
of a peninsula, about half a mile from a church. They were now
thoroughly exhausted. Their diet had been green corn, potatoes and
watermelons for several days, and they had been constantly on the
move. Here a stray calf came along and they shot it in the head,
but the calf did not fall, on the contrary, it ran away. A small
pig passed by their camp, and one of them shot him in the head. But
the pig refused to succumb, and ran away.
After leaving their isolated camp in the evening, foot-sore and
worn out by reason of the anxiety and fatigue, they pushed forward
in a more southerly direction, leaving Cleveland and the forest
where they had abandoned their horses to the right. At midnight
they had reached Marysburg, a small post village in the southern
part of Le Sueur county. Finding a convenient hiding place they
kindled a fire, and had a meal of roasted potatoes and corn. The
village clock struck six. They heard the bell and judged themselves
to be about a mile from the town. They left the Marysburg camp
somewhat refreshed, and with buoyant hope of an ultimate escape
from impending peril. Thus far they had eluded their pursuers.
Their route from Marysburg lay southwestward through Blue Earth
county, to Mankato. They made good headway during the day, and late
in the evening they found a nice hiding place in a thicket in a
cornfield, and lay very quiet without making a fire. Twice during
the night they were alarmed by persons passing near them. Their
hiding place happened to be near a neighborhood path which ran
through the fields.
Six days after the affair at Northfield, when the worn robbers were
struggling along through a great forest near Shaubut's, a few miles
in a northeasterly direction from Mankato, they came suddenly upon
a man named Dunning, who was one of a posse of citizens in pursuit
of them. They at once captured this man, and a question arose as
to the course to be taken with him. At once it was suggested by
some one of the band to bind him fast to a tree and so leave him.
Dunning pleaded hard for his life, and to be spared the terrible
ordeal of such an uncertainty as that of being left bound in that
great forest. It might be days before he would be discovered,
and it might be that no human being would pass that way until
he would be starved. Finally, from motives of humanity, as they
claim, they administered to Dunning the most terrible oaths that
he would not say one word about having seen them until they had
ample time allowed to get out of the country altogether. Dunning
gladly consented to take upon himself these solemn obligations,
and they let him go. The released citizen sought the haunts of men
and made haste to communicate to others all the particulars of
his adventure with the robbers in the woods; and then the pursuit
was renewed with new ardor and zeal. At midnight, six days after
Northfield, the weary bandits trudged through Mankato in a very
different plight from that in which they had made their entry into
the place but a little more than a week before. As they approached
the town with which they had made themselves familiar as they went
to Northfield, they were alarmed by the shrill whistle of the oil
mill. They concluded that their approach had been noted, and the
steam whistle was the signal agreed upon to call the citizens
together in case the approach of the robbers was noted. They
therefore turned aside from the main streets, and sought the lanes
and alleys back of the oil-mill. Here they hid awhile, but as there
did not seem to be any movement among the citizens, they stealthily
passed on, across the bridge. The guards had retired, or were not
disposed to attack the six desperadoes. At any rate, they were not
interrupted. After crossing, they raided a field of watermelons,
selected four large ones, and under the deep shade of the trees,
at the hour of one o'clock, they had a feast on the melons. They
visited a house near by and got one spring chicken, and would have
secured more had time been allowed. But they heard a great shouting
of people, and saw one man looking for tracks. They fled at once
up a bank, and pushed forward through the woods bordering the Blue
Earth river. During the day they crossed that stream.
It was on the day after they passed Mankato that Frank and Jesse
James, who appeared to have suffered less from the fatigue and
exposure than the others, bid a last adieu to their comrades in
the ill-starred Northfield enterprise. Only Cole Younger and his
brothers, Jim and Bob, and Clell Miller, were left. The pursuers
struck the trail of the Jameses, and these desperadoes now had
a terrible time in eluding those who sought them. They were
repeatedly fired upon, and were both wounded severely several times.
The four men left in the Blue Earth river forest struggled on
toward the west. They had passed through the county of Blue Earth,
and entered Watonwan county, full seventy-five miles on a straight
line from Northfield, and a hundred and twenty-five miles by the
route they had travelled. They had reached the swamps bordering
the Watonwan river. They had been now exposed to untold hardships
from the afternoon of the 7th of September to the 21st of the same
month, a period of fourteen days. They had subsisted on green corn,
potatoes and melons for the most part during that whole time. They
had had but little sleep, and had been constantly harassed by their
pursuers. For nine days and nights they had been compelled to walk
through forests and thickets, and their clothes had been literally
picked from their bodies by the thorns and brambles through which
they had struggled. Their feet were in a most terrible condition.
But their pursuers still followed them with a grim resolve that
nothing could equal.
On the afternoon of the 21st, Sheriff McDonald, of Sioux City,
having tracked the brigands to a swamp a few miles from Madelia,
the county seat of Watonwan county, Minnesota, the final struggle
commenced. The sheriff's forces had surrounded the swamp where the
brigands lay concealed. The armed citizens then began to close
in upon the surrounded men, keeping up a continuous fire as they
advanced. The bandits were not the men to yield, even to a superior
force, without making a desperate resistance.
One of the sheriff's men was severely and another was slightly
wounded as they closed in upon the wearied but still determined
men. The continuous volleys poured into the thicket where the
bandits had concealed themselves were not without effect. First,
Clell Miller fell, moaned once, and then his lips became mute
forever. A heavy rifle ball then crashed through Jim Younger's
jaw, shattering the lower jawbone in a most frightful manner.
Cole Younger received seven wounds, and Bob was shot in the right
elbow. They fought desperately, but what could four men do? Sheriff
McDonald commanded a hundred and fifty courageous men, whose
lives had been spent on the frontiers. Resistance could no longer
be offered, when one of their number had fallen, and the other
three were wounded, two of them nigh unto death. It was the last
struggle of four as daring and dangerous men as ever rode over
the Western prairies. When resistance had ceased, the sheriff's
men gathered around them. They were prisoners; their last hour of
freedom had expired. They were placed in spring-wagons and carried
into Madelia. The people of the whole surrounding regions came
flocking into the town to see the renowned outlaws, for they had
confessed that they were the Younger Brothers, whose fame as daring
freebooters had already been extended over the entire country.
In a few days the wounded robbers--Cole, Jim and Bob Younger--were
carried to Faribault, the county seat of Rice county. They were
closely guarded, as well to prevent excited citizens taking the law
into their own hands as to insure the safe custody of the bandits.
The body of Clell Miller was conveyed to St. Paul to be embalmed.
While confined at Faribault, the Youngers received every attention,
and rapidly recovered from the effects of their long exposure and
the terrible wounds which they had received. During this time a
strong guard was maintained about their prison.
Early in October, the Rice County Circuit Court met at Faribault,
and Thomas Coleman, James and Robert Ewing Younger were arraigned
at the bar to plead to an indictment for murder in the first
degree, and for conspiring to commit murder and robbery. Advised by
counsel that under the laws of the state the death penalty could
not be inflicted in cases when the parties charged entered the plea
of guilty, the three brothers plead guilty, and were sentenced
to the penitentiary at Stillwater for the terms of their natural
lives. A few days afterward they were removed to their life-time
place of abode, and the stormy career of the Youngers closed. Since
their incarceration, it is understood that Jim Younger has died.
Cole and Bob, in their dreary isolation, still survive, without
hope of breathing the air of freedom again.