“WHAT’S THE USE?”
was the bitter ejaculation of pretty well every man who had for two long
weeks persistently kept on the trail of the gang of desperadoes who
perpetrated the Northfield outrage, and by Wednesday evening, the 20th,
the pursuers had for the most part returned to their homes with the full
conviction that the chase was up, and the bandits had made good their
escape. To some it was more than humiliating that after so many times
being completely within their grasp, the scoundrels had succeeded in
eluding them, and this too, so often through blundering and neglect. It
seemed no consolation that the robbers had lost more in the State than
they had ever done elsewhere. The two dead carcasses at Northfield, the
captured horses, the wounded, fleeing men were impotent to assuage their
disappointment and heal their wounded pride.
Many exciting reports came from all quarters, but they were only met with
incredulous laughter. The bandits were gone, and that was an end to the
matter. People began to look upon the whole hunt as a huge joke, and
admiration soon showed itself for the plucky six who could in the face of
such fearful odds make good their escape. But there were those who still
thought that at least four of the robbers were still in the
neighborhood—the man wounded at Northfield, and the three who had not
crossed the river, for notwithstanding the fact that J. Devans, of South
Bend, said that he saw _five_ men in South Bend, whom he was positive were
the robbers, on the morning that the three crossed the bridge, no one gave
credence to his tale.
This man asserted that he had occasion to get up about half-past two
o’clock to get some water at the pump, his wife being sick, when he passed
five men in the lane near South Bend Hotel. They wore long linen dusters
with belts, and carried blankets done up in bridles, and he was positive
they were the robbers. He saw them leave and go on to the railroad, two
walking ahead, and the fifth man who was taller than the others, walking
behind and seeming to stoop greatly and walk with difficulty, carrying one
arm in a sling. Bob Younger’s statement to the writer seemed to confirm
Devan’s story.
There were not a few people in Mankato who believed that Jack O’Neil had a
hand in the escape of the raiders. It will be remembered that this man
figured conspicuously as an informant in a case spoken of at an early
period of this narrative. Rumor had it that this O’Niel had still in his
vicious den the wounded man concealed. To satisfy the public mind, a
strong body of men crossed over the ferry and thoroughly searched O’Niel’s
premises in which were found, besides the unfortunate female denizens,
five as low looking vagabonds as were ever seen outside of prison walls.
Although the search was fruitless, there are many people in Mankato who
still think, now that the hunt is over, that the notorious Jack cleared
his house of Ingalls, Peabody and Quane, because he expected the
Northfield raiders on their return trip to stay and make use of his house.
Many arrests were made of innocent persons in the eagerness to catch the
robbers, and it was absolutely dangerous to be a large man of unusual
appearance, especially to be alone in the woods or on country roads. There
was one instance of a capture on suspicion which placed two horse thieves
within the grasp of inexorable justice, that of the capture of the two men
at St. Peter, who stayed at the old Wardlow place one night and rode off
suspiciously at an early hour of the morning. These men who gave their
names as John Chafer and George Ranks, proved to be two horse thieves from
Iowa.
But the hunt was at last given up in despair and people had gone back to
their homes, when a lad came dashing into Madelia shouting out to every
one he met, that the