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Autobiography of Samuel S. Hildebrand
PROOF OF AUTHENTICITY.
This is to certify that I, the undersigned, am personally acquainted
with Samuel S. Hildebrand (better known as “Sam Hildebrand, the
Missouri Bushwhacker,” etc.,) and have known him from boyhood; that
during the war, and on several occasions since its termination, he
promised to give me a full and complete history of his whole war
record; that on the night of January 28th, 1870, he came to my house
at Big River Mills, in St. Francois county, Missouri, in company with
Charles Burks, and gave his consent that I and Charles Burks, in
conjunction, might have his confession whenever we were prepared to
meet him at a certain place for that purpose; that in the latter part
of March, 1870, in the presence of Sam Hildebrand alone, I did write
out his confession as he gave it to me, then and there, until the same
was completed; and that afterwards James W. Evans and myself, from the
material I thus obtained, compiled and completed the said confession,
which is now presented to the public as his Autobiography.
A. WENDELL KEITH, M. D.
* * * * *
STATE OF MISSOURI, }
COUNTY OF STE. GENEVIEVE. }
On this, 14th day of June, 1870, before me, Henry Herter, a Notary
Public within and for said county, personally appeared W. H. Couzens,
J. N. Burks and G. W. Murphy of the above county and State, and on
being duly sworn they stated that they were well acquainted with
Charles Burks of the aforesaid county, and A. Wendell Keith, M. D., of
St. Francois county, Missouri, and to their certain knowledge the facts
set forth in the foregoing certificate are true and correct, and that
Samuel S. Hildebrand also acknowledged to them afterwards that he had
made to them his complete confession.
WM. H. COUZENS, MAJOR C. S. A.,
J. N. BURKS,
G. W. MURPHY.
Subscribed and sworn to before me, this 14th day of June, 1870.
HENRY HERTER,
_Notary Public_.
* * * * *
The Statement made by A. Wendell Keith, M. D., is entitled to credit
from the fact of his well-known veracity and standing in society.
HON. ELLIS G. EVANS,
Senator, Rolla District.
HON. E. C. SEBASTIAN,
Representative, St. Francois county.
HON. MILTON P. CAYCE,
Farmington, Missouri.
FRANKLIN MURPHY,
Sheriff St. Francois county.
WILLIAM R. TAYLOR,
Clerk St. Francois county.
HON. JOSEPH BOGY,
Representative Ste. Genevieve county.
CHARLES ROZIER,
Clerk Ste. Genevieve county.
* * * * *
EXECUTIVE OFFICE, JEFFERSON CITY, MO.,}
June 22, 1870. }
I hereby certify that the persons whose official signatures appear
above have been commissioned for the offices indicated; and my personal
acquaintance with Dr. Keith, Honorables Evans, Sebastian, Cayce,
Bogy and Sheriff Murphy is such that I say without hesitation their
statements are entitled to full faith and credit.
J. W. McCLURG,
_Governor of Missouri_.
[Illustration: HILDEBRAND DRIVEN FROM HOME.]
AUTOBIOGRAPHY
OF
SAMUEL S. HILDEBRAND,
THE RENOWNED
MISSOURI “BUSHWHACKER”
AND UNCONQUERABLE
ROB ROY OF AMERICA;
BEING
HIS COMPLETE CONFESSION
RECENTLY MADE TO THE WRITERS, AND CAREFULLY COMPILED
BY JAMES W. EVANS AND A. WENDELL KEITH, M. D.,
OF ST. FRANCOIS COUNTY, MO.;
TOGETHER
WITH ALL THE FACTS CONNECTED WITH HIS
EARLY HISTORY.
JEFFERSON CITY, MO.:
STATE TIMES BOOK AND JOB PRINTING HOUSE,
MADISON STREET.
1870.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
SAM HILDEBRAND DRIVEN FROM HOME _Frontispiece._
FRANK HILDEBRAND HUNG BY THE MOB 45
SAM HILDEBRAND KILLING MCILVAINE 61
THE MURDER OF WASH. HILDEBRAND AND LANDUSKY 69
STAMPEDE OF FEDERAL SOLDIERS 139
SAM HILDEBRAND BETRAYED BY COOTS 179
SAM HILDEBRAND‘S LAST BATTLE 297
COL. BOWEN CAPTURES HILDEBRAND‘S CAVE 303
Entered according to act of Congress in the year 1870, by JAMES W.
EVANS and A. WENDELL KEITH, M. D., in the Clerk‘s Office
of the District Court of the United States for the Eastern District of
Missouri.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
Introduction.—Yankee fiction.—Reasons for making a full
confession. 25
CHAPTER II.
Early history of the Hildebrand family.—Their settlement in
St. Francois county, Mo.—Sam Hildebrand born.—Troublesome
neighbors.—Union sentiments. 29
CHAPTER III.
Determination to take no part in the war.—Mr. Ringer killed
by Rebels.—The cunning device of Allen Roan.—Vigilance
Committee organized.—The baseness of Mobocracy.—Attacked by the
mob.—Escape to Flat Woods. 35
CHAPTER IV.
McIlvaine‘s Vigilance mob.—Treachery of Castleman.—Frank
Hildebrand hung by the mob.—Organization of the mob into a
Militia company. 42
CHAPTER V.
His house at Flat Woods attacked by eighty soldiers.—Miraculous
escape.—Capt. Bolin.—Flight to Green county, Arkansas. 48
CHAPTER VI.
Interview with Gen. Jeff Thompson.—Receives a Major‘s
Commission.—Interview with Capt. Bolin.—Joins the Bushwhacking
Department. 54
CHAPTER VII.
First trip to Missouri.—Killed George Cornecious for reporting
him.—Killed Firman McIlvaine, captain of the mob.—Attempt to
kill McGahan and House.—Return to Arkansas. 58
CHAPTER VIII.
Vigilance mob drives his mother from home.—Three companies of
troops sent to Big river.—Capt. Flanche murders Washington
Hildebrand and Landusky.—Capt. Esroger murders John Roan.—Capt.
Adolph burns the Hildebrand homestead and murders Henry
Hildebrand. 66
CHAPTER IX.
Trip with Burlap and Cato.—Killed a spy near Bloomfield.—Visits
his mother on Dry Creek.—Interview with his uncle.—Sees the
burning of the homestead at a distance. 75
CHAPTER X.
Trip with two men.—Killed Stokes for informing on him.—Secreted
in a cave on Big river.—Vows of vengeance.—Watched for
McGahan.—Tom Haile pleads for Franklin Murphy.—Tongue-lashed
and whipped out by a woman. 84
CHAPTER XI.
Trip to Missouri with three men.—Fight near
Fredericktown.—Killed four soldiers.—Went to their camp and
stole four horses.—Flight toward the South.—Robbed “Old
Crusty”. 91
CHAPTER XII.
Trip with three men.—Captured a spy and shot him.—Shot Mr.
Scaggs.—Charged a Federal camp at night and killed nine
men.—Came near shooting James Craig.—Robbed Bean‘s store and
returned to Arkansas. 96
CHAPTER XIII.
The Militia mob robs the Hildebrand estate.—Trip to Missouri
with ten men.—Attacks a government train with an escort of
twenty men.—Killed two and put the others to flight. 102
CHAPTER XIV.
Federal cruelty.—A defense of Bushwhacking.—Trip with Capt.
Bolin and nine men.—Fight at West Prairie.—Started with two
men to St. Francois county.—Killed a Federal soldier.—Killed
Addison Cunningham.—Capt. Walker kills Capt. Barnes, and
Hildebrand kills Capt. Walker. 106
CHAPTER XV.
Started alone to Missouri.—Rode off a bluff and killed
his horse.—Fell in with twenty-five Rebels under Lieut.
Childs.—Went with them.—Attacked 150 Federals at Bollinger‘s
Mill.— Henry Resinger killed.—William Cato.—Went back to
Fredericktown.—Killed one man.—Robbed Abright‘s store. 114
CHAPTER XVI.
Started to Bloomfield with three men.—Fight at St. Francis
river.—Goes from there alone.—Meets his wife and family, who
had been ordered off from Bloomfield.—Capture and release of
Mrs. Hildebrand.—Fight in Stoddard county.—Arrival in Arkansas.
121
CHAPTER XVII.
Put in a crop.—Took another trip to Missouri with six
men.—Surrounded in a tobacco barn.—Killed two men in making
his escape.—Killed Wammack for informing on him.—Captured some
Federals and released them on certain conditions.—Went to Big
River Mills.—Robbed Highley‘s and Bean‘s stores. 128
CHAPTER XVIII.
Selected seven men and went to Negro Wool Swamp.—Attacked
fifteen Federals—A running fight.—Killed three men.—Killed
Mr. Crane.—Betrayed by a Dutchman, and surrounded in a house
by Federals.—Escaped, killed eight Federals, recaptured the
horses, and hung the Dutchman. 136
CHAPTER XIX.
Went with eight men.—Attacked a Federal camp near Bollinger‘s
Mill.—Got defeated.—Men returned to Arkansas.—Went alone to St.
Francois county.—Watched for R. M. Cole.—Killed Capt. Hicks. 147
CHAPTER XX.
Trip to Hamburg with fifteen men.—Hung a Dutchman and shot
another.—Attacked some Federals in Hamburg but got gloriously
whipped.—Retreated to Coon Island.—Killed Oller at Flat
Woods.—Robbed Bean‘s store at Irondale. 153
CHAPTER XXI.
Started with six men on a trip to Springfield,
Missouri.—Deceived by a Federal spy in the Irish
Wilderness—Captured through mistake by Rebels.—Routed on
Panther creek.—Returned home on foot. 159
CHAPTER XXII.
Started with four men.—Surrounded in a thicket
near Fredericktown.—Escaped with the loss of three
horses.—Stole horses from the Federals at night.—Killed two
soldiers.—Suffered from hunger.—Killed Fowler.—Took a horse
from G. W. Murphy.—Went to Mingo Swamp.—Killed Coots for
betraying him.—Killed a Federal and lost two men. 168
CHAPTER XXIII.
Went to Mingo Swamp with ten men.—Went to Castor
creek.—Attacked two companies of Federals under Capt. Cawhorn
and Capt. Rhoder.—Bushwhacked them seven nights.—Went with
Capt. Reed‘s men.—Attacked Capt. Leeper‘s company.—Killed
fourteen, captured forty horses, forty-four guns, sixty
pistols, and everything else they had. 182
CHAPTER XXIV.
Took a trip with fifteen men.—Captured a squad of
Federals.—Reception of “Uncle Bill.”—Hung all the
prisoners.—Captured five more and hung one. 187
CHAPTER XXV.
Put in a crop.—Started to Missouri with nine men.—Killed a
soldier near Dallas.—Went to St. Francois county and watched
for Walls and Baker.—Watched near Big River Mills for
McGahan.—Narrow escape of William Sharp.—Robbed Burges, Hughes
and Kelley of their horses.—Robbed Abright‘s store.—Captured
some Federals on White Water. 195
CHAPTER XXVI.
Started to St. Francois county, Missouri, with eight
men.—Hung Vogus and Zimmer.—Hung George Hart.—Robbed Lepp‘s
store.—Concealed in Pike Run hills.—Started back.—Hung Mr.
Mett‘s negro, “Old Isaac.”—Hung another negro.—Took two
deserters back and hung them. 205
CHAPTER XXVII.
Started with nine men to St. Francois county.—Stopped in Pike
Run hills.—Robbed the store of Christopher Lepp.—Hung Mr.
Kinder‘s negro.—Attacked by Federals.—Killed two men and lost
one.—Shot two soldiers on a furlough.—Enters a mysterious camp.
212
CHAPTER XXVIII.
Capt. John and a company of Federals destroy the Bushwhackers‘
Headquarters in Green county, Arkansas.—He is bushwhacked,
routed and killed.—Raid into Washington county with fourteen
men.—Attacked by twenty Federals.—Killed the man who piloted
Capt. John. 219
CHAPTER XXIX.
Took a raid into Missouri with four men.—Killed a
Federal.—Killed two of Capt. Milks‘ men.—Started to De
Soto.—Routed by the Federals.—Adventure with a German.—Killed
three Federals on Black river. 228
CHAPTER XXX.
Commanded the advance guard on Price‘s raid.—The Federals burn
Doniphan.—Routed the Federals completely.—Captured several
at Patterson.—Killed Abright at Farmington.—Left Price‘s
army.—Killed four Federals.—Major Montgomery storms Big River
Mills.—Narrow escape from capture. 237
CHAPTER XXXI.
Selected three men and went to Missouri to avenge the death of
Rev. William Polk.—Got ammunition in Fredericktown.—Killed the
German who informed on Polk.—Return to Arkansas. 244
CHAPTER XXXII.
Started with eight men on a trip to Arkansas river.—Hung a
“Scallawag” on White river.—Went into Conway county.—Treachery
of a negro on Point Remove.—“Foot-burning” atrocities.—Started
back and hung a renegade. 250
CHAPTER XXXIII.
Gloomy prospects for the South.—Takes a trip to Missouri with
four men.—Saved from capture by a woman.—Visits his mother
on Big river.—Robs the store of J. V. Tyler at Big River
Mills—Escapes to Arkansas. 257
CHAPTER XXXIV.
Started to Missouri with three men.—Surrounded at night near
Fredericktown.—Narrow escape by a cunning device.—Retired to
Simms‘ Mountain.—Swapped horses with Robert Hill, and captured
some more.—Killed Free Jim and kidnapped a negro boy. 264
CHAPTER XXXV.
Trip to Missouri with four men.—Attempt to rob Taylor‘s
store.—Fight with Lieut. Brown and his soldiers.—Killed
Miller and Johnson at Flat Woods.—Return home from his last
raid.—The war is pronounced to be at an end.—Reflections on the
termination of the war.—Mrs. Hildebrand‘s advice.—The parole at
Jacksonport. 275
CHAPTER XXXVI.
Imprisoned in Jacksonport jail.—Mrs. Hildebrand returns
to Missouri.—Escape from prison.—Final settlement in Ste.
Genevieve county.—St. Louis detectives make their first
trip.—The Governor‘s reward.—Wounded by Peterson.—Removed
to his uncle‘s.—Fight at John Williams‘.—Kills James
McLaine.—Hides in a cave. 286
CHAPTER XXXVII.
Military operations for his capture.—Col. Bowen captures the
Cave.—Progress of the campaign.—Advent of Governor 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. 300
PREFACE.
The public having been grossly imposed upon by several spurious
productions purporting to be the “Life of Sam Hildebrand,” we have no
apology to offer for presenting the reader with his authentic narrative.
His confession was faithfully written down from his own lips, as the
foregoing certificates abundantly prove.
From this copious manuscript we have prepared his autobiography for
the press, with a scrupulous care to give it literally, so far as
the arbitrary rules of language would permit. Sam Hildebrand and the
authors of this work were raised up from boyhood together, in the same
neighborhood, and we are confident that no material facts have been
suppressed by Hildebrand in his confession.
The whole narrative is given to the reader without any effort upon our
part either to justify or condemn his acts. Our design was to give the
genuine autobiography of Sam Hildebrand; this we have done.
The book, as a record of bloody deeds, dare-devil exploits and
thrilling adventures, will have no rival in the catalogue of wonders;
for it at once unfolds, with minute accuracy, the exploits of
Hildebrand, of which one-half had never yet been told. Without this
record the world would forever remain in ignorance of the _night
history_ of his astounding audacity.
We here tender our thanks to those of our friends who have kindly
assisted us in this work, prominent among whom is Miss Hilda F. Sharp,
of Jefferson City, Mo., who furnished us with those beautiful pencil
sketches from which our engravings were made.
JAMES W. EVANS,
A. WENDELL KEITH, M. D.
BIG RIVER MILLS, MO., June, 1870.
INTRODUCTION.
THE ORIGIN AND HISTORY OF THE HILDEBRAND FAMILY.
Before proceeding with the Autobiography of Samuel S. Hildebrand,
we would call the attention of the reader to the fact, that since
notoriety has been thrust upon the subject of these memoirs, public
attention has been pointed to the fact, that in German history, the
Hildebrands occupy a very prominent position.
The authors of this work, by a diligent research into ancient German
literature, have been able to trace the origin and history of the
Hildebrand family, with tolerable accuracy, to the beginning of the
ninth century. The name Hildebrand or Hildebrandt is as old as the
German language. Hilde, in ancient German, signified a “Hero,” and
brand, a “blaze or flame.” It is thought by some writers that the name
doubtless signified a “flaming hero.”
Whether this is the case or not, it matters but little, as the fact
remains clearly defined that the first man of that name known to
history was a hero in every sense of the word. The “Heldenbuch” or Book
of Heroes, in its original form, dates back to the eighth century. It
is a beautiful collection of poems relative to Dietrich or Theodoric.
It was written down from memory by the Hessian monks on the outer pages
of an old Latin manuscript, and was first published by Eccard in prose,
but it was afterwards discovered that the songs were originally in
rhyme.
The poem treats of the expulsion of Dietrich of Vaum out of his
dominions by Ermenrick, his escape to Attila and his return after
an adventurous exile of thirty years. Hildebrand (the old Dietrich)
encounters his son, whom he left at home in his flight, in a terrible
encounter without knowing who he was. We will present the reader with
Das Hildebrands lied (The song of Hildebrand), not on account of any
literary merit it may possess, but because of its great antiquity and
its popularity among the German people at one time, and by whom it was
dramatized.
The Song of Hildebrand.
“I must be up and riding,” spoke Master Hildebrand,
“’Tis long since I have greeted the distant Berner land;
For many a pleasant summer in foreign lands we‘ve been,
But thirty years have vanished since I my wife have seen.”
“Wilt thou be up and riding?” outspoke Duke Amelung;
“Beware! since _one_ should meet thee—a rider brave and young.
Right by the Berner market—the brave Sir Alebrand;
If twelve men‘s strength were in thee, he‘d throw thee to the sand!”
“And doth he scorn the country in such a haughty mood?
I‘ll cleave in twain his buckler—‘twill do him little good;
I‘ll cleave in twain his armor with a resistless blow,
Which for a long year after shall cause his mother woe.”
Outspoke of Bern, Sir Dietrich, “now let that counsel be,
And slay him not, old hero, but take advice from me:
Speak gently to the Ritter, a kind word soonest mends;
And let your path be peaceful, so shall ye both be friends!”
And as he reached the garden, right by the mart of Berne;
There came against him riding, a warrior fierce and stern.
A brave young knight in armor, against Sir Hildebrand;
“What seekest thou, old Ritter, in this, thy father‘s land?”
“Thou bearest splendid armor, like one of royal kind;
So bright thy glit‘ering corselet, mine eyes are stricken blind;
Thou, who at home should‘st rest thee, and shun a warrior‘s stroke,
And slumber by the fireside,” the old man laughed and spoke.
“Should _I_ at firesides rest me, and nurse me well at home,
Full many a fight awaits me, to many a field I‘ll come.
In many a rattling foray, shall I be known and feared;
Believe my word, thou youngster, ’twas thus I blanched my beard.”
“That beard will I tear from thee, though great may be thy pain.
Until the blood-drops trickling, have sprinkled all the plain;
Thy fair green shield and armor, must thou resign to me,
Than seek the town, contented my prisoner to be.
“My armor and my fair green shield have warded many a blow;
I trust that God in Heaven still will guard me from my foe.”
No more they spoke together, but grasped their weapons keen,
And what the two most longed for, soon came to pass, I ween!
With glittering sword, the younger struck such a sudden blow,
That with its force the warrior, Sir Hildebrand, bent low;
The youth in haste recoiling, sprang twelve good steps behind,
“Such leaps,” exclaimed the gray-beard, “were learned of womankind.”
“Had I learned ought of woman, it were to me a shame,
Within my father‘s castle are many knights of fame;
Full many knights and riders about my father throng,
And what as yet, I know not, I trust to learn ere long.”
Sir Hildebrand was cunning, the old gray bearded man,
For when the youth uplifted, beneath his sword he ran;
Around the Ritter‘s girdle his arms he tightly bound,
And on the ground he cast him—there lies he on the ground!
“Who rubs against the kittles, may spotless keep who can—
How fares it now, young hero, against the _old gray man_?
Now quickly speak and shrive thee, for I thy priest will be;
Say, art thou a young Wolfing? perhaps I‘ll let thee free.”
“Like wolves are all the Wolfing, they ran wild in the wood,
But I‘m a Grecian warrior, a rider brave and good;
Frau Ute is my mother, she dwelleth near this spot,
And _Hildebrand_, my father, albeit he knows us not!”
“Is Ute then thy mother, that monarch‘s daughter free?
Seekest thou thy father, Hildebrand? then know that _I_ am he!”
Uplifted he his golden helm, and kissed him on the mouth;
Now God be praised that both are safe! the old man and the youth.
“Oh, father dear, those bloody wounds!” ’twas thus the young knight said:
“Now would I three times rather bear those blows upon my head.”
“Be still, be still, my own dear son! the wounds will soon be past;
And God in Heaven above be praised, that we have met at last!”
This lasted from the noonday well to the vesper tide,
Then back into the city Sir Alebrand did ride.
What bears he on his helmet? a little cross of gold;
Who is he that rides beside him? his own dear father old.
And with him to his castle, old Hildebrand he bore,
And with his own hands served him—the mother grieved full sore—
“Ah, son, my ever dearest son, the cause I fain would know,
Why a strange prisoner, like this, should e‘er be honored so?”
“Now, silence, dearest mother, and list to what I say!
He almost slew me on the heath in open light to-day;
He ne‘er shall wear, good mother, a prisoner‘s attire,
‘Tis Hildebrand, the valient, thy husband and my sire!
Oh, mother, dearest mother, do him all honor now;”
Then flew she to her husband, and served him well, I trow;
What holds the brave old father? a glittering ring of gold;
He drops it in the wine cup—it is her husband old!
We congratulate our readers on having survived the reading of the above
poem, written a thousand years ago, about old Dietrich, the “father
Abraham” of all the Hildebrands; but he must not forget that he is
subject to a relapse, for here are two verses not taken from the “Book
of Heroes,” but from an old popular song in use to this day among the
peasantry in South Germany:
Hildebrand and his son Hudebrand.
Hildebrand and his son Hudebrand—Alebrand,
Rode off together with sword in hand—sword in hand—
To make fierce war on Venice;
Hildebrand and his son Hudebrand—Alebrand,
Never could find the Venetian land—‘netian land.
With flaming swords to menace!
Hildebrand and his son Hudebrand—Alebrand,
Got drunk as pigs with a jolly band—jolly band,
All the while swearing and bawling;
Hildebrand and his son Hudebrand—Alebrand,
Drank till they could neither walk nor stand—walk nor stand,
Home on all fours they went a crawling.
The reader will perceive that the peasantry are disposed to “poke fun”
at the great ancestor of the Hildebrand family; this, however, we will
attribute to envy, and make no effort to prove that “Hildebrand and his
son Hudebrand” were Good Templars, lest we prove too much, and cause
the reader to doubt their Dutch origin altogether.
Following the geneology down, we meet with several of the Hildebrands
celebrated in the ecclesiastical, literary and scientific world. Of the
parentage of Gregory VII. but little is known more than that he was a
Hildebrand, born near Rome, but of German parents. On becoming a Roman
Pontiff in 1077, he assumed the name of Gregory. He occupied the chair
of St. Peter for eight years, during which time he assumed an authority
over the crowned heads of Europe, never before attempted. He was a bold
man, but was driven from his chair in 1085.
George Frederick Hildebrand was a famous physician, who was born June
5, 1764, at Hanover. He was one of the most learned men of his age; was
appointed professor of Anatomy at Brunswick, but he soon took the chair
of Chemistry, at Erlangen, in Bavaria. He died March 23, 1816, leaving
some of the most elaborate and valuable works ever written.
Ferdinand Theodore Hildebrand was born Juno 2, 1804, and under the
tuition of Professor Schadaw, at Berlin, he became very renowned as a
painter. He followed his tutor to Dusseldorf in 1826, and was one of
the most celebrated artists of the Academy of Painting at that place.
In 1830 Hildebrand visited Italy to view the productions of some of
the old masters, and afterwards traveled through the Netherlands. Some
of his best pictures were drawn to represent scenes in the works of
Shakspeare, of which “King Lear mourning over the death of Cordelia,”
was perhaps the most important. But among the critics, “The sons of
Edward” was considered his greatest production.
It is not our purpose to name all the illustrious Hildebrands who have
figured in German history or literature; for it must be borne in mind
that from the ninth century down to the sixteenth, the name Hildebrand
was almost invariably applied as a given name; it was not until that
century that it appears as a sur-name. It is a fact, however, well
known to historians, that the same given name is frequently retained in
a family, and handed down from one generation to another perhaps for
one thousand years.
In the southern part of Germany the name Hildebrand was borne by a
certain class of vassals, but in the Northern States of that country,
there were families of noble birth by the same name. The record of
those nobles runs back with a great deal of certainty to a very remote
period of German history—beyond which, the dim out-lines of tradition
alone can be our guide. This tradition, whether entitled to credit or
not, traces the geneology of the Hildebrands in the line of nobles up
to Sir Hildebrand, the exiled hero mentioned in the Book of Heroes.
According to the record of the Hildebrand family, as given by Henry
Hildebrand of Jefferson county, Missouri, to the authors of this work;
the seventh generation back reaches to Peter Hildebrand of Hanover. He
was born in 1655, and was the youngest son of a nobleman. His father
having died while Peter was yet a boy, he was educated at a military
school, and after arriving to manhood he served several years in the
army. Returning at length, he was vexed at the cold reception he
received from his elder brother, who now inherited the estate with all
the titles of nobility belonging to the family. He resolved to emigrate
to the wild solitudes of America, where individual worth and courage
was the stepping stone to honor and distinction.
His family consisted of a wife and three children; his oldest son,
Jacob, was born in 1680; when he was ten years of age the whole family
emigrated to New Amsterdam, remained three years and then settled in
the northern part of Pennsylvania, where he died a few years afterwards.
Jacob Hildebrand‘s second son, Jacob, was born in 1705. He was fond
of adventure and joined in several exploring expeditions in one of
which he was captured by a band of Miami Indians, and only escaped by
plunging into the Ohio river and concealing himself under a drift of
floating logs. His feelings of hostility against the Indians prompted
him to join the expedition against them under Lieutenant Ward, who
erected a fort at what is now called Pittsburg, in 1754, here he was
killed in a vain attempt to hold the garrison against the French and
Indians under Contrecoeur.
His third son, John Hildebrand, was born in 1733, and at the death of
his father was twenty-one years of age. Like most of the frontiermen
of this early period, he seemed to have an uncontrolable love of
adventure. His most ardent desire was to explore the great valley of
the Mississippi. At the period of which we are now speaking (1754),
he joined James M. Bride and others and passed down the Ohio river in
a canoe; to his regret, however, the company only reached the mouth
of the Kentucky river, cut their initials in the barks of trees, and
then returned. In 1770 he removed to Missouri. His family consisted of
his wife and two boys—Peter was born in 1758, and Jonathan in 1762.
He built a flat-boat on the banks of the Ohio, and taking a bountiful
supply of provisions, he embarked with his family. To avoid the Indians
he kept as far from each shore as possible, and never landed but
once to pass around the shoals. On reaching the Mississippi he spent
more than a week in ascending that river to gain a proper point for
crossing. He landed on the western side at Ste. Genevieve.
Viewing the country there as being rather thickly settled, he moved
back into the wilderness about forty miles and settled on Big River at
the mouth of Saline creek. He was the first settler in that country
which was afterwards organized as Jefferson county. He opened a fine
farm on Saline creek, built houses, and considered himself permanently
located in that wild country. The Indians were unfriendly, and their
hostility toward white settlers seemed to increase until 1780, when
Peter Chouteau, by order of the Lieutenant Governor of Louisiana,
went to see Hildebrand and warned him to leave on account of Indian
depredations. He then removed to Ste. Genevieve.
In 1783, Peter Hildebrand left Ste. Genevieve and settled on Big River
in the same neighborhood where his father had resided. He had a wife
and four children, whose names were, Isaac, Abraham, David, and Betsy.
He was a good marksman and very fond of hunting. After he had resided
there about one year, he was shot and killed by the Indians on the
bank of Big River one morning while on his return from hunting wild
game; after which the family removed nearer to a settlement.
In 1802, David Hildebrand settled on Big River, and about the same time
Jonathan Hildebrand settled himself permanently on the same river. He
lived until the commencement of the late war, and then died at the
age of one hundred years. He had three sons, whose names are, George,
Henry, and Samuel.
In 1832, George Hildebrand and his family moved higher up on Big
River and settled in St. Francois county—his house was the Hildebrand
homestead referred to in these pages—and he was the father of Samuel S.
Hildebrand, whose Autobiography we now submit to our readers.
AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF SAMUEL S. HILDEBRAND.
CHAPTER I.
Introduction.—Yankee Fiction.—Reasons for making a full
confession.
Since the close of the late rebellion, knowing that I had taken a very
active part during its progress several of my friends have solicited
me to have my history written out in full. This anxiety to obtain the
history of an individual so humble as myself, may be attributed to
the fact, that never perhaps since the world began, have such efforts
been put forth by a government for the suppression of one man alone,
as have been used for my capture, both during the war and since its
termination. The extensive military operations carried on by the
Federal government in South-east Missouri, were in a great measure
designed for my special destruction.
Since the close of the rebellion, while others are permitted to
remain at home in peace, the war, without any abatement whatever, has
continued against me with a vindictiveness and a lavish expenditure
of money that has no parallel on this continent; but through it all,
single-handed, have I come out unscathed and unconquered.
My enemies have thrust notoriety upon me, and have excited the public
mind at a distance with a desire to know who I am and what I have done.
Taking advantage of this popular inquiry, some enterprising individual
in an eastern state has issued two or three novels purporting to be
my history, but they are not even founded on fact, and miss the mark
about as far as if they were designed for the Life of Queen Victoria.
I seriously object to the use of my name in any such a manner. Any
writer, of course, who is afflicted with an irresistible desire to
write fiction, has a perfect right to do so, but he should select a
fictitious name for the hero of his novels, that his works may stand
or fall, according to their own intrinsic merit, rather than the name
of an individual whose notoriety alone would insure the popularity of
his books. But an attempt to palm a novel on the inquiring public as a
history of my life, containing as it does a catalogue of criminal acts
unknown to me in all my career, is not only a slander upon myself, but
a glaring fraud upon the public.
Much of our misfortune as a nation may be attributed to the pernicious
influence of the intolerant, intermeddling, irrepressible writers of
falsehood. In a community where the spirit of fiction pervades every
department of literature and all the social relations of life, writers
become so habituated to false coloring and deception, that plain
unadorned truth has seldom been known to eminate from their perverted
brains; it would be just as impossible for them to write down a naked
fact as it would for the Prince of Darkness to write a volume of psalms.
The friend who has finally succeeded in tracing me to my quiet retreat
in the wild solitudes of the down trodden South, is requesting me
to make public the whole history of my life, without any attempt at
palliation, concealment or apology. This I shall now proceed to do, in
utter disregard to a perverted public opinion, and without the least
desire or expectation of receiving justice from the minds of those who
never knew justice, or sympathy from those who are destitute of that
ingredient.
The necessity that was forced upon me to act the part I did during the
reign of terror in Missouri, is all that I regret. It has deprived me
of a happy home and the joys of domestic peace and quietude; it has
driven me from the associations of childhood, and all the scenes of
early life that so sweetly cling to the memory of man; it has caused my
kind and indulgent mother to go down into her grave sorrowing; it has
robbed me of three affectionate brothers who were brutally murdered and
left weltering in their own innocent blood; it has reduced me and my
family to absolute want and suffering, and has left us without a home,
and I might almost say, without a country.
A necessity as implacable as the decrees of Fate, was forced upon me by
the Union party to espouse the opposite side; and all the horrors of a
merciless war were waged unceasingly against me for many months before
I attempted to raise my hand in self defense. But fight I must, and
fight I did! War was the object, and war it was. I never engage in but
one business at a time—my business during the war was killing enemies.
It is a very difficult matter to carry on a war for four years without
some one getting hurt. If I did kill over a hundred men during the war,
it was only because I was in earnest and supposed that everybody else
was. My name is cast out as evil because I adopted the military tactics
not in use among large armies. They were encumbered with artillery and
fought where they had ample room to use it, I had no artillery and
generally fought in the woods; my plan was the most successful, for in
the regular army the rebels did not kill more than one man each during
the war.
CHAPTER II.
Early History of the Hildebrand family.—Settled in St.
Francois county, Missouri.—Sam Hildebrand born.—Troublesome
Neighbors.—Union Sentiments.
In regard to the early history of the Hildebrand family, I can only
state what tradition has handed down from one generation to another.
As I have no education, and can neither read in English nor Dutch, I
am not able to give any of the outlines of history bearing upon the
origin or acts of the Hildebrands in remote ages. This task I leave for
others, with this remark, that tradition connects our family with the
Hildebrands who figured in the German history up to the very origin of
the Dutch language. The branch of the family to which I belong were
driven from Bavaria into Netherlands two hundred years ago, where they
remained about forty years, and then emigrated to Pennsylvania at the
first settlement of that portion of America.
They were a hardy race of people and always shunned a city life,
or being cooped up in thickly settled districts; they kept on the
outskirts of aggressive civilization as it pressed the redman still
back into the wild solitudes of the West, thus occupying the middle
ground or twilight of refinement. Hence they continually breathed the
pure, fresh air of our country‘s morning, trod through the dewy vales
of pioneer life, and drank at Freedom‘s shady fountains among the
unclaimed hills.
They were literally a race of backwoodsmen inured to hardship, and
delighted in nothing so much as wild adventure and personal danger.
They explored the hills rather than the dull pages of history, pursued
the wild deer instead of tame literature, and enjoyed their own
thoughts rather than the dreamy notions eminating from the feverish
brain of philosophy.
In 1832 my father and mother, George and Rebecca Hildebrand, settled
in St. Francois county, Missouri, on a stream called Big River, one of
the tributaries of the Meramec which empties into the Mississippi about
twenty miles below St. Louis.
The bottom lands on Big River are remarkably fertile, and my father
was so fortunate as to secure one of the best bodies of land in that
county. Timber grew in abundance, both on the hills and in the valleys,
consequently it took a great deal of hard labor to open a farm; but
after a few years of close attention, father, by the assistance of
his boys who were growing up, succeeded in opening a very large one.
He built a large stone dwelling house two stories high, and finished
it off in beautiful style, besides other buildings—barns, cribs and
stables necessary on every well regulated farm.
Father and mother raised a family of ten children, consisting of seven
boys and three girls. I was the fifth one in the family, and was born
at the old homestead on Big River, St. Francois county, Missouri, on
the 6th day of January, 1836.
The facilities for acquiring an education in that neighborhood were
very slim indeed, besides I never felt inclined to go to school even
when I had a chance; I was too fond of hunting and fishing, or playing
around the majestic bluffs that wall in one side or the other of Big
River, the whole length of that crooked and very romantic stream.
One day‘s schooling was all that I ever got in my life; that day
was sufficient for me, it gave me a distaste to the very sight of a
school house. I only learned the names of two letters, one shaped like
the gable end of a house roof, and the other shaped like an ox yoke
standing on end. At recess in the afternoon the boys got to picking
at me while the teacher was gone to dinner, and I had them every one
to whip. When the old tyrant came back from dinner and commenced
talking saucy, I gave him a good cursing and broke for home. My father
very generously gave me my choice, either to go to school or to work
on the farm. I gladly accepted the latter, redoubled my energy and
always afterwards took particular pains to please my father in all
things, because he was so kind as not to compel me to attend school. A
threat to send me to school was all the whipping that I ever required
to insure obedience; I was more afraid of that than I was of old
“Raw-head-and-bloody-bones,” or even the old scratch himself.
In 1850, my father died, but I still remained at the homestead, working
for the support of my mother and the rest of the family, until I had
reached the age of nineteen years, then, on the 30th day of October,
1854, I married Miss Margaret Hampton, the daughter of a highly
esteemed citizen of St. Francois county. I built a neat log house,
opened a farm for myself, within half a mile of the old homestead, and
we went to housekeeping for ourselves.
From the time that my father first settled on Big River, we had an
abundance of stock, and especially hogs. The range was always good,
and as the uplands and hills constituted an endless forest of oaks,
the inexhaustible supply of acorns afforded all the food that our hogs
required; they roamed in the woods, and of course, many of them became
as wild as deer; the wild ones remained among the hills and increased
until they became very numerous. Whenever they were fat enough for
pork, we were in the habit of going into the woods with our guns and
our dogs and killing as many of them as we could.
A few years after my father had settled there, a colony of Pennsylvania
Dutch had established themselves in our neighborhood; they were very
numerous and constituted about two-thirds of the population of our
township. They soon set up “wild hog claims,” declaring that some of
their hogs had also run wild; this led to disputes and quarrels, and to
some “fist and skull fighting,” in which my brothers and myself soon
won the reputation of “bullies.” Finding that they had no show at this
game, they next resorted to the law, and we had many little law suits
before our justice of the peace. The Dutch _out swore_ us, and we soon
found the Hildebrand family branded by them with the very unjust and
unpleasant epithet of “hog thieves;” but _we_ went in on the _muscle_
and still held the woods.
As our part of the country became more thickly settled and new
neighbors came in, they in turn were prejudiced against us; and
the rising generation seemed to cling to the same idea, that the
Hildebrands seemed to love pork a little too well and needed watching.
Unfortunately for me, my old neighbors were union men; all my
sympathies too, were decidedly for the union. I heard with alarm the
mutterings of war in the distance, like the deep tones of thunder
beyond the frowning hills. I had never made politics my study; I had
no education whatever, and had to rely exclusively on what others told
me. Of course I was easily imposed upon by political tricksters, yet
from my heart I deplored the necessity of a resort to arms, if such a
necessity did exist, and whether it did or not was more than I could
divine.
While my union neighbors and enemies were making the necessary
preparations for leaving their families in comfortable circumstances
before taking up arms in defense of their country, there were a few
shrewd southern men around to magnify and distort the grievances of the
southern people. In many cases the men whom they obtained had nothing
in the world at stake, no useful object in view, no visible means of
acquiring an honest livelihood, and were even without a horse to ride.
This, however, only afforded them a pretext for practicing what they
called “pressing horses,” which was done on a large scale. Neither
political principles, patriotic motives, nor love of country prompted
this abominable system of horse stealing. It was not confined to
either party, and it was a remarkable co-incident how invariably the
political sentiments of a horse-pressing renegade would differ from the
neighbor who happened to have the fastest horses.
CHAPTER III.
Determination to take no part in the War.—Mr. Ringer killed
by Rebels.—The cunning device of Allen Roan.—Vigilance
Committee organized.—The baseness of Mobocracy.—Attacked by the
Mob.—Escape to Flat Woods.
In the spring of 1861, the war of the Great Rebellion was inaugurated,
and during the following summer was carried on in great fury in many
places, but I shall only speak of those occurrences which had a
particular bearing upon myself.
I called on some good citizens who were not republicans, and whom I
knew to be well posted in the current events of the day, to ask them
what course it was best for me to pursue during the unnatural struggle.
They advised me to stay at home and attend to my own business. This I
determined to do, so I paid no further attention to what was going on,
put in my crop of corn at the usual season and cultivated it during the
summer.
On the 9th day of August the popular excitement in St. Francois county
was greatly increased by the killing of Mr. Ringer, a union man,
who was shot at his own house for no other cause than his political
principles. He was killed, as I afterwards learned, by Allen Roan and
Tom Cooper. It should be borne in mind that Roan was a relative of mine
with whom I was on friendly terms. I was not implicated in the death
of Ringer in any manner, shape, or form, but suspicion rested upon me;
the “Hildebrand gang” were branded with the murder.
I could not check Roan in the rash course he was pursuing; but in all
sincerity, I determined to follow the advice given me by a certain
union friend, who told me to take no part in the cause that would in
the end bring disaster upon myself. It was good advice; why then did I
not follow it? In the presence of that Being who shall judge the quick
and the dead, I shall truthfully and in a few words explain the whole
matter. I had no sooner made up my mind fully what course to pursue,
than I was caught in a cunningly devised trap that settled my destiny
forever.
One evening Allen Roan came to my field where I was plowing and
proposed swapping horses with me; the horse which he said he had bought
was a better one than my own, so I consented to make the exchange;
finding afterwards that the horse would not work in harness, I swapped
him off the next day to Mr. Rogers.
Prior to this time my neighbors had organized themselves into what they
called a Vigilance Committee, and were moving in squads night and day
to put down horse stealing. Only a few of the committee were dangerous
men, but Firman McIlvaine, who was put at the head of the gang was
influenced by the worst element in the community; it became a political
machine for oppression and bloodshed under the guidance of James Craig,
John House, Joe McGahan, John Dunwoody, William Patton, and others,
who were swearing death to every man implicated in any way with the
southern recruits who were pressing horses.
The horse I had traded for from Allen Roan and which Rogers obtained
from me, proved to be the property of Dunwoody. I was apprised of the
fact by a friend at night, and told also that they had threatened
me and my brother Frank with death if they could find us, and
notwithstanding our entire innocence in the matter, we were compelled
to hide out. We knew that when the law is wrested from the civil
authorities by such men as they were, that anything like a trial would
not be permitted. We secreted ourselves in the woods, hoping that
matters would take a different turn in a short time; each night I was
posted in regard to their threats. I would willingly have surrendered
myself to the civil authorities with a guarantee of a fair trial;
but to fall into the hands of an unscrupulous mob who were acting in
violation of law, particularly when law and order was broken up by the
heavy tramp of war, was what we were compelled by all means to avoid.
We had no alternative but to elude their search.
It is a fact well known, that in the upheaval of popular passion for
the overthrow of law and order under any pretext whatever, a nucleus
is formed, around which the most vile, the most turbulent, and the
most cowardly instinctively fly. Cowardly villains invariably join
in with every mob that comes within their reach; personal enmity and
spite is frequently their controling motive; the possible opportunity
of redressing some supposed grievance without incurring danger to
themselves is their incentive for swelling the mob. A person guilty of
any particular crime, to avoid suspicion, is always the most clamorous
for blood when some one else stands accused of the same offense. In
the Vigilance Committee were found the same materials existing in all
mobs. No brave man was ever a tyrant, but no coward ever failed to be
one when he had the power. They still kept up the search for me and my
brother with an energy worthy of a better cause.
It was now October, the nights were cold and we suffered much for
the want of blankets and even for food. We were both unaccustomed to
sleeping out at night and were chilled by the cold wind that whistled
through the trees. After we had thus continued in the woods about three
weeks, I concluded to venture in one night to see my family and to get
something to eat, and some bed clothes to keep me more comfortable at
night.
I had heard no unusual noise in the woods that day, had seen no one
pass, nor heard the tramp of horses feet in any direction.
It was about eleven o‘clock at night when I got within sight of the
house, no light was burning within; I heard no noise of any kind, and
believing that all was right I crept up to the house and whispered
“Margaret” through a crack. My wife heard me, and recognizing my voice
she noiselessly opened the door and let me in. We talked only in
whispers, and in a few minutes she placed my supper upon the table.
Just as I was going to eat I heard the top rail fall off my yard fence.
The noise did not suit me, so I took my gun in one hand, a loaf of
corn bread in the other, and instantly stepped out into the yard by a
back door.
McIlvaine and his vigilantees were also in the yard, and were
approaching the house from all sides in a regular line. In an instant I
detected a gap in their ranks and dashed through it. As they commenced
firing I dodged behind a molasses mill that fortunately stood in the
yard, it caught nine of their bullets and without doubt saved my life.
After the first volley I struck for the woods, a distance of about two
hundred yards. Though their firing did not cease, I stopped midway to
shoot at their flame of fire, but a thought struck me that it would too
well indicate my whereabouts in the open field, so I hastened on until
I had gained the edge of the woods, and there I sat down to listen at
what was going on at the house. I heard Firman McIlvaine‘s name called
several times, and very distinctly heard his replies and knew his
voice. This satisfied me beyond all doubt that the marauders were none
other than the self-styled Vigilance Committee.
I was fortunate in my escape, and had a deep sense of gratitude to
heaven for my miraculous preservation. Though I had not made my
condition much better by my visit, yet I gnawed away, at intervals,
upon my loaf of corn bread, and tried to reconcile myself as much as
possible to the terrible state of affairs then existing. I saw very
plainly that my enemies would not permit me to remain in that vicinity;
but the idea of being compelled to leave my dear home where I was born
and raised, and to strike out into the unknown world with my family
without a dollar in my pocket, without anything except one horse and
the clothing we had upon our backs, was anything in the world but
cheering. However, I had no alternative; to take care of my dependent
and suffering family, was the motive uppermost in my mind at all times.
After the mob had apparently left, my wife came out to me in the
woods. Our plans were soon formed; after dressing the children, five
in number, as quietly and speedily as possible, she brought them to me
at a designated point among the hills in the dark forest. She returned
to the house alone, and with as little noise as possible saddled up my
horse, and after packing him with what bed clothing and provisions she
conveniently could, she circled around among the hills and rejoined me
at a place I had named in the deep forest about five miles from our
once happy home. Daylight soon made its appearance and enabled me to
pick out a place of tolerable security.
We remained concealed until the re-appearance of night and then
proceeded on our cheerless wandering. In silence we trudged along in
the woods as best we could, avoiding the mud and occasional pools of
water. I carried my gun on my shoulder and one of the children on
my hip; my wife, packing the baby in her arms, walked quietly by my
side. I never was before so deeply impressed with the faith, energy
and confiding spirit of woman. As the moon would occasionally peep
forth from the drifting clouds and strike upon the pale features of my
uncomplaining wife, I thought I could detect a look of cheerfulness in
her countenance, and more than once I thought I heard a suppressed
titter when either of us got tangled up in the brush. When daylight
appeared we were on Wolf creek, a few miles south of Farmington; here
we stopped in the woods to cook our breakfast and to rest a while.
During the day we proceeded on to what is called Flat Woods, eight
miles from Farmington, in the southern part of St. Francois county, and
about ten miles north from Fredericktown. From Mr. Griffin I obtained
the use of a log cabin in a retired locality, and in a few minutes we
were duly installed in our new house.
CHAPTER IV.
McIlvaine‘s Vigilance Mob.—Treachery of Castleman.—Frank
Hildebrand hung by the Mob.—Organization of the Mob into a
Militia Company.
The Vigilance Committee, with Firman McIlvaine at its head, was formed
ostensibly for the mutual protection against plunderers; yet some bad
men were in it. By their influence it became a machine of oppression, a
shield for cowards, and the headquarters for tyranny.
After I left Big River my brother Frank continued to conceal himself
in the woods until about the middle of November; the weather now
grew so cold that he could stand it no longer; he took the advice of
Franklin Murphy and made his way to Potosi, and in order to silence all
suspicion in regard to his loyalty, he went to Captain Castleman and
offered to join the Home Guards. Castleman being intimate with Firman
McIlvaine, detained Frank until he had time to send McIlvaine word, and
then basely betrayed him into the merciless hands of the vigilant mob.
In order to obtain a shadow of legality for his proceedings, McIlvaine
took brother Frank before Franklin Murphy, who at that time was justice
of the peace on Big River. Frank was anxious that the justice might
try the case; but when Murphy told them that all the authority he had
would only enable him to commit him to jail for trial in the proper
court, even if the charges were sustained, they were dissatisfied at
this, and in order to take the matter out of the hands of the justice
and make it beyond his jurisdiction, they declared that he had stolen a
horse in Ste. Genevieve county.
The mob then took Frank to Punjaub, in that county, before Justice R.
M. Cole, who told them that he was a sworn officer of the law, and that
if they should produce sufficient evidence against their prisoner, he
could only commit him to jail. This of course did not satisfy the mob;
to take the case out of his hands, they stated that the offense he had
committed was that of stealing a mule in Jefferson county. They stated
also that Frank and Sam Anderson had gone in the night to the house of
a Mr. Carney to steal his mare; that Mrs. Carney on hearing them at
the gate, went out and told them that Mr. Carney was absent and had
rode the mare; that they then compelled Mrs. Carney to go with them a
quarter of a mile in her night clothes to show them where Mr. Becket
lived; and finally that they went there and stole his horse. Failing
however to obtain the co-operation of the Justice in carrying out their
lawless designs, the mob left with their prisoner, declaring that they
were going to take him to Jefferson county for trial.
The sad termination of the affair is soon told. The mob took my kind,
inoffensive brother about five miles and hung him without any trial
whatever, after which they threw his body in a sink-hole thirty feet
in depth, and there his body laid for more than a month before it was
found. A few weeks after this cold blooded murder took place, Firman
McIlvaine had the audacity to boast of the deed, declaring positively
that Frank had been hung by his express orders. This murder took place
on the 20th day of November, 1861, about a month after I had been
driven from Big River.
A few nights after my arrival at Flat Woods I made my way back to
my old home in order to bring away some more of my property, but
on arriving there I found that my house had been robbed and all my
property either taken away or destroyed. I soon learned from a friend
that the Vigilance Committee had wantonly destroyed everything that
they did not want. I returned to Flat Woods in a very despondent mood.
I was completely broken up.
The union men were making war upon me, but I was making no war upon
them, for I still wished to take no part in the national struggle. I
considered it “a rich man‘s war and a poor man‘s fight.” But a sense
of my wrongs bore heavily upon me; I had been reduced to absolute
poverty (to say nothing of the murder of my brother) by the unrelenting
cruelty of Firman McIlvaine who was a rich man, drowned in luxury and
surrounded by all the comforts of life that the eye could wish, or a
cultivated appetite could desire.
The war was now raging with great fury in many sections of the country;
yet I remained at home intent on making a living for my family,
provided I could do so without being molested, but during all the time
I was at work, I had to keep a sharp lookout for my enemies.
[Illustration: FRANK HILDEBRAND HUNG BY THE MOB.]
That leprous plague spot—the Vigilance Committee—finally ripened and
culminated in the formation of a company of militia on Big River, with
James Craig for Captain and Joe McGahan for First Lieutenant. The very
act for which they were so anxious to punish others, on mere suspicion,
they themselves now committed with a high hand.
They were ordered to disarm southern sympathizers and to seize on
articles contraband of war, such as arms and ammunition. This gave
them great latitude; the cry of “disloyal” could be very easily raised
against any man who happened to have a superabundance of property.
“Arms” was construed also to include _arm chairs_ and their _arms full_
of everything they could get their hands on; “guns” included _Gunn‘s
Domestic Medicine_; a fine claybank mare was confiscated because she
looked so _fiery_, and a spotted mule because it had so many _colors_;
they took a gun from Mr. Metts merely because he lived on the _south
side_ of Big River; they dipped heavily into the estate of Dick
Poston, deceased, by killing the cattle for beef and dividing it among
themselves, under the pretext that if Dick Poston had been living, he
most undoubtedly would have been a rebel.
CHAPTER V.
His house at Flat Woods attacked by Eighty
Soldiers.—Wounded.—Miraculous Escape.—Captain Bolin.—Arrival in
Green County, Arkansas.
In April, 1862, after we had lived at Flat Woods during six months
of perfect tranquility, that same irrepressible Vigilance Committee,
or some men who had composed it, learned finally that I was living
at Flat Woods. Firman McIlvaine and Joe McGahan succeeded in getting
eighty soldiers from Ironton to aid in my capture. I had been hauling
wood; as soon as I unloaded the wagon I stepped into the house, and
the first thing I knew, the eighty soldiers and the vigilantees were
within gunshot and coming under full charge. I seized my gun and
dashed through a gap in their lines that Heaven had again left open
for my escape. They commenced firing upon me as soon as I was out of
the house. The brush being very thick not far off, I saw that my only
chance was to gain the woods, and that as soon as possible. I ran
through the garden and jumped over a picket fence—this stopped the
cavalry for a moment. I made through the brush; but out of the hundreds
of bullets sent after me, one struck my leg below the knee and broke
a bone. I held up by the bushes as well as I could, to keep them from
knowing that I was wounded. While they had to stop to throw down a
fence, I scrambled along about two hundred yards further, and crouched
in a gully that happened to be half full of leaves; I quickly buried
myself completely from sight. The soldiers were all around in a short
time and scoured the woods in every direction; then they went back and
burned the house and everything we had, after which they left and I saw
them no more.
Sixteen of Captain Bolin‘s men on the day before had been seen to
cross the gravel road; this, probably, was why the federal soldiers
did not remain longer. Captain Bolin was a brave rebel officer, whose
headquarters were in Green county, Arkansas, and under whose command
some of the most daring spirits who figured in the war, were led on to
deeds of heroism scarcely ever equaled.
Our condition was truly deplorable; there I lay in the gully covered
up with leaves, with one leg rendered useless, without even the
consolation of being allowed to groan; my family, too, were again
without shelter; the soldiers had burned everything—clothes, bedding
and provisions.
As I lay in that gully, suffering with my wounds inflicted by United
States soldiers, I declared war. I determined to fight it out with
them, and by the assistance of my faithful gun, “Kill-devil,” to
destroy as many of my blood-thirsty enemies as I possibly could. To
submit to further wrong from their hands would be an insult to the
Being who gave me the power of resistance.
After the soldiers had left, my wife came in search of me, believing
that I was wounded from the manner in which I seemed to run. I told
her to go back, that I was not hurt very bad, and that when she was
satisfied that no one was watching around, to come at night and dress
my leg. She went, however, in search of some friend on whom we could
rely for assistance. Fortunately she came across Mr. Pigg, to whom
she related the whole circumstance, and he came immediately to my
relief. He was a man of the right stripe; regardless of consequences,
he did everything in his power to relieve my suffering, and to supply
my family with bedding and provisions. He removed us by night to a
place of safety, and liberally gave us all we needed. While I thus lay
nursing my wound, my place of concealment was known only to a few men
whom we could easily trust.
In my hours of loneliness I had much time for reflection. The terrible
strait in which I found myself, naturally led me to the mental inquiry:
“Have I the brand of Cain, that the hands of men should be turned
against me? What have I done to merit the persecution so cruel and
so persistent?” I could not solve the questions; in the sight of a
just God I felt that I did not merit such treatment. Sometimes I half
resolved to go into some other State on purpose to avoid the war; but
I was constantly warned by my friends who were southern men, (the only
men with whom I could hold communication at present,) that it would be
unsafe to think of doing so, and that my only safety lay in my flight
to the southern army. The vigilance mob had nearly destroyed every
vestige of sympathy or good feeling I had for the union people. They
had reported me, both to the civil and military authorities, as being
a horse thief, and, withal, a very dangerous man.
On thinking the matter over I lost all hope of ever being able to
reinstate myself in their favor and being permitted to enjoy the
peaceful privileges of a quiet citizen. The die was cast—for the sake
of revenge, I pronounced myself a Rebel.
I remained very quietly at my place of concealment while my wife
doctored my wounded leg for a week before my friend had an opportunity
of sending word to any of Captain Bolin‘s men to come to my relief. As
soon as my case was made known to them, however, a man was dispatched
to see me for the purpose of learning all the particulars in the case.
He came and asked me a great many questions, but answered none. When he
arose to depart he only said, “all right—rest easy.”
The next night I was placed in a light spring wagon among some boxes
of drugs and medicines, and was told that my wife and family would be
taken to Bloomfield by Captain Bolin in a short time, and protected
until I could come after them. A guard of two men accompanied us, and
rode the whole night without speaking a word to any one. Nearly the
whole route was through the woods, and although the driver was very
watchful and used every precaution against making a noise, yet in
the darkness of the night I was tumbled about among the boxes pretty
roughly.
When daylight came we halted in a desolate looking country, inhabited
only by wild animals of the forest. We had traveled down on the
western side of St. Francois river, and were now camped near the most
western bend on that river near the southern line of Madison county;
we remained all day at that point, and I spent most of my time in
sleeping. When the sun had dipped behind the western hills we again
commenced our journey. Our course seemed to bear more to the eastward
than it did the night before, and as we were then in a country not so
badly infested with Federals, we traveled a good part of our time in
narrow, crooked roads, but they were rough beyond all description, and
I was extremely glad when about eight o‘clock in the morning we halted
for breakfast on the western bank of St. Francois river, about midway
between Bloomfield, in Stoddard county, and Crane creek, in Butler.
While resting here a scouting party from General Jeff. Thompson‘s camp
came riding up.
“Well boys! what have you in your wagon?”
“Drugs and medicines for Captain Bolin‘s camp.”
On hearing this they dismounted and kept up a lively conversation
around the camp fire. Among their number was a jovial fellow who kept
the rest all laughing. I thought I knew the voice, and as I turned over
to peep through a hole in the wagon bed, he heard me and sprang to his
feet.
“Who in thunderation have you in the wagon?”
“Some fellow from St. Francois county, wounded and driven off by the
Federals.”
“The devil! why that is my native county. I‘ll take a look at that
fellow. It‘s Sam Hildebrand as I live! How do you do, old rapscallion?”
“Well, well, if I haven‘t run across Tom Haile, the dare-devil of the
swamps!”
“Old ‘drugs and medicines‘ what are you doing here? trying to pass
yourself off for a great medicinal root I suppose. Do you feel
tolerable better? I‘m afraid you are poison. Say, Sam, did you bring
some good horses down with you?”
“Hush Tom! if they find out that I‘m not a horse thief, they will drum
me out of camp!”
The party soon prepared to start; the first man who attempted to mount
came near being dashed to the ground in consequence of the rattling
of a tin cup some one had tied to his spur. Tom said it was a perfect
shame to treat any man in that way; the man seemed to think so, too,
judging from the glance he cast at Tom. But they mounted, dashed
through a sheet of muddy water, then over a rocky point, and soon were
far away amid the dim blue hills.
We started on, and after traveling until about midnight, we reached
the State line between Missouri and Arkansas, there we remained until
morning; on starting again we were in Green county, Arkansas, and
sometime during the day we arrived safely at the Headquarters of
Captain Bolin, and I was welcomely received into the little community
of families, who were here assembled for mutual protection—most of them
were the families of Captain Bolin‘s men. I received every attention
from them that my necessities required, and as my wound seemed to be
doing well, I felt for a time quite at home.
CHAPTER VI.
Interview with Gen. Jeff. Thompson.—Receives a Major‘s
Commission.—Interview with Captain Bolin.—Joins the
“Bushwhacking Department.”
Captain Bolin with most of his forces were somewhere in the vicinity
of Bloomfield, Missouri, and as I was anxious to identify myself with
the army, I got the use of a horse as soon as I was able to ride, and
in company with several others proceeded across the swampy country east
of the St. Francis river, for the purpose of joining General Jeff.
Thompson. I reached his headquarters in safety, and stayed about camp,
frequently meeting acquaintances from Missouri and occasionally getting
news from home. As soon as I could gain admission to the General‘s
headquarters I did so, and he received me very kindly. He listened very
attentively to me as I proceeded to state my case to him—how my brother
had been murdered, how I had barely escaped the same fate, and how I
had finally been driven from the country.
General Thompson reflected a few moments, then seizing a pen he rapidly
wrote off a few lines and handing it to me he said, “here, I give you a
Major‘s commission; go where you please, take what men you can pick up,
fight on your own hook, and report to me every six months.” I took the
paper and crammed it down into my pantaloon‘s pocket and walked out.
I could not read my commission, but I was determined to ask no one to
read it for me, for that would be rather degrading to my new honor.
I retired a little distance from camp and taking my seat on an old
cypress log, I reflected how the name of “Major Sam Hildebrand” would
look in history. I did not feel comfortable over the new and very
unexpected position in which I had been placed. I knew nothing of
military tactics; I was not certain whether a Major held command over
a General or whether he was merely a bottle washer under a Captain.
I determined that if the latter was the case, that I would return to
Green county and serve under Captain Bolin.
As I had no money with which to buy shoulder-straps, I determined to
fight without them. I was rather scarce of money just at that time;
if steamboats were selling at a dollar a piece, I did not have money
enough to buy a canoe paddle. I stayed in camp, however, several days
taking lessons, and hearing the tales of blood and pillage from the
scouts as they came in from various directions.
By this time my wound felt somewhat easier, so I mounted my horse and
made my way back to Green county, and arrived safely at Captain Bolin‘s
headquarters. The Captain was at home, and I immediately presented
myself before him. He said he had heard of me from one of his scouts,
and was highly gratified that one of his men had seen proper to have me
conveyed to his headquarters.
“I presume,” said he, “that you have been to the headquarters of
General Jeff. Thompson. Did you see the ‘Old Swamp Fox?‘”
“I did.”
“What did he do for you?”
Here I pulled my commission from my pocket, that now looked more like a
piece of gunwadding than anything else, and handed it to the Captain.
“Well, Major Hildebrand—”
“Sam, if you please.”
“Very well then, what do you propose to do?”
“I propose to fight.”
“But Major—”
“Sam, if you please.”
“All right, sir! Sam, I see that you have the commission of a Major.”
“Well Captain, I can explain that matter: he formed me into an
independent company of my own—to pick up a few men if can get them—go
where I please—when I please—and when I go against my old personal
enemies up in Missouri, I am expected to do a _Major_ part of the
fighting myself.”
At this the Captain laughed heartily, and after rummaging the contents
of an old box he drew forth something that looked to me very much like
a bottle. After this ceremony was over he remarked:
“Well sir, the commission I obtained is of the same kind. I have
one hundred and twenty-five men, and we are what is denominated
‘Bushwhackers‘; we carry on a war against our enemies by shooting them;
my men are from various sections of the country, and each one perhaps
has some grievance to redress at home; in order to enable him to do
this effectually we give him all the aid that he may require; after
he sets things to right in his section of country, he promptly comes
back to help the others in return; we thus swap work like the farmers
usually do in harvest time. If you wish an interest in this joint stock
mode of fighting you can unite your destiny with ours, and be entitled
to all our privileges.”
Captain Bolin‘s proposition was precisely what I so ardently desired.
Of the real merits of this war I knew but little and cared still less.
To belong to a large army and be under strict military discipline, was
not pleasing to my mind; to be brought up in a strong column numbering
several thousands, and to be hurled in regular order against a mass of
men covering three or four miles square, against whom I had no personal
spite, would not satisfy my spirit of revenge. Even in a fierce battle
fought between two large opposing armies, not more than one man out of
ten can succeed in killing his man; in a battle of that kind he would
have no more weight than a gnat on a bull‘s horn.
I was fully satisfied that the “Bushwhacking department” was the place
for me, with the continent for a battle field and the everlasting woods
for my headquarters.
CHAPTER VII.
Trip to Missouri.—Kills George Cornecious for reporting on
him.—Kills Firman McIlvaine.—Attempt to kill McGahan and
House.—Returns to Arkansas.
My wound kept me at headquarters for about six weeks after my arrival
in Arkansas. During all this time I could not hear a word from my
family, for the Federals had possession of every town in that section
of country, together with all the roads leading from one county to
another.
On the 1st day of June, 1862, having been furnished a horse, I took
my faithful gun, “Kill-devil,” and started on my first trip back to
Missouri. As my success would depend altogether on the secrecy of my
movements, I went alone. I traveled altogether in the night, and most
of the time through the woods. From Captain Bolin‘s men I had learned
the names of Southern sympathizers along the whole route, so I made
it convenient to travel slowly in order to favor my wounds and to get
acquainted with our friends.
I arrived in the vicinity of Flat Woods, in St. Francois county,
Missouri, on the 12th day of June, and immediately commenced searching
for George Cornecious, the man who reported my whereabouts to McIlvaine
and the soldiers, thereby causing me to be wounded and expelled from
Flat Woods. After searching two days and two nights I succeeded in
shooting him; he was the first man I ever killed; a little notch cut
in the stock of my gun was made to commemorate the deed.
To avoid implicating my family in any way with my transactions, I
satisfied myself with exchanging words with my wife through a friend
who was thought by his neighbors to be a Union man. My family resided
in a little cabin on Back creek, and my wife was cultivating a garden.
To carry out the darling object I had in view—that of killing Firman
McIlvaine—I went to Flat river, and after remaining several days, I
took a pone of bread for my rations and walked to his farm on Big river
after night.
I passed through his fields, but finding no place where harvesting was
going on, I crossed Big river on a fish-trap dam and ranged over the
Baker farm on the opposite side of the river, about a mile above Big
river Mills, where the McIlvaine family now resided.
I found where harvesting had just commenced in a field which formed
the southwestern corner of the farm. This field is on the top of a
perpendicular bluff, about one hundred feet high, and is detached from
the main farm by a road leading from Ste. Genevieve to Potosi.
A portion of the grain had already been cut on the western side of the
field, near the woods; there I took my station in the fence corner,
early in the morning, thinking that McIlvaine would probably shock the
grain while the negroes were cradling. In this I was mistaken, for I
saw him swinging his cradle in another part of the field, beyond the
range of my gun.
I next attempted to crawl along the edge of the bluff among the stunted
cedars, but had to abandon the attempt because the negroes stopped
in the shade of the cedars every time they came around. Then I went
back into the woods, and passed down under the bluff, along the edge
of the river, until I got opposite the place where they were at work;
but I found no place where I could ascend the high rock. I went around
the lower end of the bluff, and crawled up to the field on the other
side, but I was at too great a distance to get a shot. Finally, I went
down to the river and was resting myself near a large flat rock that
projected out into the river, where some persons had recently been
fishing, when suddenly Firman McIlvaine rode down to the river and
watered his horse at a ford about sixty yards below me. I tried to draw
a bead on him, but the limb of a tree prevented me, and when he started
back he rode too fast for my purpose.
At night I crept under a projecting rock and slept soundly; but very
early in the morning I ascended the bluff and secreted myself at a
convenient distance from where they had left off cradling. But I was
again doomed to disappointment, for, as the negroes were cradling,
McIlvaine was shocking the grain in another part of the field.
In the evening, as soon as they had finished cutting the grain, all
hands left, and I did not know where they were. I next stationed myself
at a short distance from the river, and watched for him to water his
horse; but his father presently passed along leading the horse to
water.
[Illustration: KILLING McILVAINE.]
I again slept under the overhanging rock; and on the next morning (June
23d) I crossed the river on the fish dam, and went to the lower part
of McIlvaine‘s farm. There I found the negroes cutting down a field of
rye. They cut away for several hours, until they got it all down within
one hundred yards of the fence, before McIlvaine made his first round.
On getting a little past me, he stopped to whet his scythe; as soon as
he had done so he lowered the cradle to the ground, and for a moment
stood resting on the handle.
I fired, and he fell dead.
Nothing but a series of wrongs long continued could ever have induced
me to take the life of that highly accomplished young man.
After the outbreak of the war, while others were losing horses, a fine
mare was stolen from him. The theft was not committed by me, but my
personal enemies probably succeeded in making him believe that I had
committed the act.
He was goaded on by evil advisers to take the law into his own hands;
my brother Frank was hung without a trial, and his body thrown into a
sink-hole, to moulder like that of a beast; my own life had been sought
time and again; my wife and tender family were forced to pass through
hardships and suffering seldom witnessed in the annals of history. The
mangled features of my poor brother; the pale face of my confiding
wife; the tearful eyes of my fond children—all would seem to turn
reprovingly upon me in my midnight dreams, as if demanding retributive
justice. My revenge was reluctant and long delayed, but it came at
last.
I remained in the woods, near the residence of a friend for a day or
two, and then I concluded to silence Joe McGahan and John House before
returning to Arkansas. I proceeded to the residence of the former, who
had been very officious in the Vigilance mob, and posted myself in
some woods in the field within one hundred yards of the house, just as
daylight began to appear. I kept a vigilant watch for him all day, but
he did not make his appearance until it had commenced getting dark;
then he rode up and went immediately into his house. By this time it
was too dark for me to shoot at such a distance. I moved to the garden
fence, and in a few minutes he made his appearance in the door with
a little child in his arms. The fence prevented me from shooting him
below the child, and I could not shoot him in the breast for fear of
killing it.
He remained in the door only a minute or two, and then retired into
the house; and while I was thinking the matter over, without noticing
closely for his reappearance, I presently discovered him riding off. I
went to a thicket in his field and slept until nearly day, when I again
took my position near the house, and watched until night again set in,
but fortunately for him he did not make his appearance.
I now went about four miles to the residence of John House, selected a
suitable place for my camp, and slept soundly until daybreak. I watched
closely all day, but saw nothing of my enemy. As soon as it was dark I
went back to Flat river, and on the next night I mounted my horse and
started back to Green county, Arkansas, without being discovered by any
one except by those friends whom I called on for provisions.
CHAPTER VIII.
Vigilance mob drives his mother from home.—Three companies of
troops sent to Big river.—Captain Flanche murders Washington
Hildebrand and Landusky.—Captain Esroger murders John
Roan.—Capt. Adolph burns the Hildebrand homestead and murders
Henry Hildebrand.
I shall now give a brief account of the fresh enormities committed
against the Hildebrand family. The same vindictive policy inaugurated
by the Vigilance mob was still pursued by them until they succeeded, by
misrepresentation, in obtaining the assistance of the State and Federal
troops for the accomplishment of their designs.
A Dutch company, stationed at North Big River Bridge, under Capt.
Esroger; a Dutch company stationed at Cadet, under Capt. Adolph, and
a French company stationed at the Iron Mountain, under Capt. Flanche,
were all sent to Big River to crush out the Hildebrand family.
Emboldened by their success in obtaining troops, the Vigilance mob
marched boldly up to the Hildebrand homestead and notified my mother,
whom they found reading her Bible, that she must immediately leave the
county, for it was their intention to burn her house and destroy all
her property.
My mother was a true Christian; she was kind and affectionate to
everybody; her hand was always ready to relieve the distressed, and
smooth the pillow for the afflicted; the last sight seen upon earth by
eyes swimming in death has often been the pitying face of my mother, as
she hovered over the bed of sickness.
I appeal to all her neighbors—I appeal to everybody who knew her—to say
whether my mother ever had a superior in this respect.
When ordered to leave her cherished home, to leave the house built
by her departed husband, to leave the quiet homestead where she had
brought up a large family, and where every object was rendered dear by
a thousand sweet associations that clung to her memory, she turned her
mind inwardly, but found nothing there to reproach her; then to her God
she silently committed herself.
She hastily took her Bible and one bed from the house—but nothing
more. She had arrangements made to have her bed taken to the house of
her brother, Harvey McKee, living on Dry Creek, in Jefferson county,
distant about thirty five miles. Then, taking her family Bible in her
arms, she burst into a flood of tears, walked slowly out of the little
gate, and left her home forever!
I will here state that I was the only one of the Hildebrand family who
espoused the Rebel cause. After the murder of my brother Frank, I had
but three brothers left: William, Washington and Henry. William joined
the Union army and fought until the close of the war. Washington took
no part in the war, neither directly nor indirectly. Never, perhaps,
was there a more peaceable, quiet and law-abiding citizen than he
was; he never spoke a word that could be construed into a sympathy for
the Southern cause, and I defy any man to produce the least evidence
against his loyalty, either in word or act. While the war was raging,
he paid no attention to it whatever, but was busily engaged in lead
mining in the St. Joseph Lead Mines, three miles from Big River Mills,
and about six miles from the old homestead. In partnership with him was
a young man by the name of Landusky, a kind, industrious, inoffensive
man, whose loyalty had never once been doubted. My sister Mary was his
affianced bride, but her death prevented the marriage.
My brother Henry was a mere boy, only thirteen years of age. Of course
he was too young to have any political principles; he was never accused
of being a Rebel; no accusation of any kind had ever been made against
him; he was peaceable and quiet, and, like a good boy, he was living
with his mother, and doing the best he could toward supporting her.
True, he was very young to have the charge of such a farm, but he was
a remarkable boy. Turning a deaf ear to all the rumors and excitements
around him, he industriously applied himself to the accomplishment of
one object, that of taking care of his mother.
On the 6th day of July, 1862, while my brother Washington and Mr.
Landusky were working in a drift underground, Capt. Flanche and his
company of cavalry called a halt at the mine, and ordered them to come
up; which they did immediately.
[Illustration: FEDERAL ATROCITY.]
No questions were asked them, and no explanations were given. Flanche
merely ordered them to walk off a few steps toward a tree, which they
did; he then gave the word “fire!” and the whole company fired at them,
literally tearing them to pieces!
I would ask the enlightened world if there ever was committed a more
diabolical deed? If, in all the annals of cruelty, or in the world‘s
wide history, a murder more cold-blooded and cruel could be found?
A citizen who happened to be present ventured to ask in astonishment
why this was done; to which Flanche merely replied, as he rode off,
“they bees the friends of Sam Hildebrass!”
It was now Capt. Esroger‘s time to commit some deed of atrocity, to
place himself on an equality with Capt. Flanche; so after a moment‘s
reflection, he concluded that the murder of my uncle, John Roan, would
be sufficient to place his brutality beyond all question.
John Roan was a man about fifty years of age, was proverbial for his
honesty, always paid his debts, and kept himself entirely aloof from
either side during the war, but against his loyalty nothing had ever
been produced, or even attempted.
One of his sons was in the Union army, and another was a Rebel.
Being my uncle, and the father of Allen Roan, however, was a sufficient
pretext for the display of military brutality.
His house was situated about three miles from St. Joseph Lead Mines
and about the same distance from the Hildebrand estate.
On the 10th day of July, Capt. Esroger and his company rode up to his
house, and the old man came out onto the porch, with his white locks
streaming in the wind, but never once did he dream of treachery.
Esroger told him that he “vos one tam prisoner,” and detailed six men
to guard him and to march along slowly until they should get behind.
They did so until they got about a mile from his house; there they made
him step off six paces, and while his eyes were turned towards Heaven,
and his hands were slightly raised in the attitude of prayer, the fatal
word “fire” was given, and he fell to the earth a mangled corpse.
There was still another actor in this bloody tragedy, who had to tax
his ingenuity to the utmost to select a part in which to out do, if
possible, the acts of atrocity committed by the others. This was Capt.
Adolph.
On the 23rd day of July, Capt. Adolph and his company with an
intermixture of the Vigilance mob, went to my mother‘s house—the
Hildebrand homestead—for the purpose of burning it up. The house was
two stories high, built of nice cut stone, and well finished within,
making it altogether one of the best houses in the county.
The soldiers proceeded to break down the picket fence, and to pitch it
into the house for kindling. They refused to let anything be taken out
of the house, being determined to burn up the furniture, clothing,
bedding, provisions, and everything else connected with it.
All things being now ready, the house was set on fire within, and
the flames spread rapidly from room to room, then through the upper
floor, and finally out through the roof. The house, with all the outer
building was soon wrapped in a sheet of fire.
My little brother Henry and an orphan boy about fourteen years of age,
whom my mother had hired to assist Henry in cultivating the farm, were
present at the conflagration and stood looking on in mute astonishment.
Esroger ordered brother Henry to leave, but whether he knew it was
their intention to shoot him after getting him a short distance from
the house, as was their custom, it is impossible for me to say.
Probably feeling an inward consciousness of never having committed an
act to which they could take exceptions, he did not think that they
would persist in making him go; so he remained and silently gazed at
the burning house, which was the only home he had ever known.
When ordered again to leave, he seemed to be stupefied with wonder at
the enormity of the scene before him. Franklin Murphy being present
told him it was best to leave; so he mounted his horse and started,
but before he got two hundred yards from the house, he was shot and he
dropped dead from the horse. Thus perished the poor innocent boy, who
could not be induced to believe that the men were base enough to kill
him, innocent and inoffensive as he was. But alas! how greatly was he
mistaken in them!
They next burned the large frame barn, also the different cribs and
stables on the premises; then taking the orphan boy as a prisoner they
left.
Some neighbors, a few days afterwards found the body of my little
brother and buried him.
This was the crowning act of Federal barbarity toward me and the
Hildebrand family, instigated by the low cunning of the infamous
Vigilance mob.
I make no apology to mankind for my acts of retaliation; I make no
whining appeal to the world for sympathy. I sought revenge and I found
it; the key of hell was not suffered to rust in the lock while I was on
the war path.
I pity the poor miserable, sniveling creature who would tamely have
submitted to it all.
Such a man would be so low in the scale of human conception; so far
beneath the lowest grade of humanity, that the head even of an Indian
would grow dizzy in looking down upon him.
CHAPTER IX.
Trip with Burlap and Cato.—Killed a Spy near Bloomfield.—Visits
his Mother on Dry Creek.—Interview with his Uncle.—Sees the
burning of the homestead at a distance.
As yet, I had heard nothing about the atrocities committed against the
remaining members of the Hildebrand family; but in order to stir up
my old enemies in that quarter, I selected two good men, John Burlap
and James Cato, to accompany me in another excursion to St. Francois
county, Missouri.
They, too, had been badly treated at the outbreak of the war, and
had several grievances to redress, for which purpose I promised them
my future aid. We procured Federal uniforms, and started late in the
afternoon of July 13th, 1862; but on arriving at St. Francis river, we
found it out of its banks from the heavy rains that had fallen the day
previous.
My comrades were rather reluctant about venturing into the turbid
stream amid the floating driftwood; but I had ever been impressed with
the truth of the old adage, that it was “bad luck to turn back.” I
plunged my horse into the stream and made the opposite shore without
much difficulty. I was followed by Burlap and Cato, who got across
safely, but were somewhat scratched by the driftwood. We built a fire,
dried our clothes, took a “snort” from our black bottle, and camped
until morning.
Nothing of interest occurred until we reached the vicinity of
Bloomfield, in Stoddard county, Missouri, when we met a man in
citizen‘s dress, whom we accosted in a very familiar manner, asking him
if there were any Rebels in that vicinity. He stated that there was a
party of Rebels in Bloomfield, and that we had better make our way back
to Greenville to the command, otherwise we would be sure to fall into
their hands. He stated that he had been with them all day, pretending
that he wanted to enlist; that he had learned all about their plans,
and thought that about to-morrow night they would all be taken in. I
inquired if they had not suspicioned him as a spy? He answered that
they had not; that he had completely deceived them. I then asked him if
he did not want to ride behind me and my companions, by turns, until
we reached Greenville? He signified his assent by springing up behind
me. I let him ride about two miles, but not exactly in the direction of
Greenville, for I told him that I was aiming to strike a certain cross
road, which seemed to satisfy his mind. He had much to tell us about
his exploits as a spy, and that he had learned the names of all the
Rebels in Greenville and Fredericktown. By this time we had enough. I
told him I was Sam Hildebrand, knocked him off my horse, and then shot
him.
I felt no compunction of conscience for having ended the days of such a
scoundrel. A little notch underneath the stock of old “Kill-devil” was
made, to indicate the probability that he would fail to report.
On the rest of our trip we traveled altogether in the night, and
avoided the commission of any act that would be likely to create a
disturbance. We arrived safely at the house of my brother-in-law, on
Flat river, who lives within ten miles of the Hildebrand homestead.
Here, for the first time, I heard of the murder of my brother
Washington, also that of my uncle, John Roan. Mother‘s house had not
yet been burned, but she had been peremptorily driven from it, and had
sought refuge with her brother, in Jefferson county. The country was
full of soldiers, and the Vigilance mob were in their glory. Their
deeds would blacken the name of John A. Murrel, the great land pirate
of America, for he never robbed a lady, nor took the bread from orphan
children; while they unblushingly did both.
On learning these particulars, I determined to go to Dry Creek for
the purpose of seeing my mother, although the soldiers were scouring
the country in every direction for fifty miles for my destruction. We
started at night, but having to travel a circuitous route, daylight
overtook us when within six miles of my uncle‘s. We made a circuit, as
was my custom, around a hillside, and then camped in such a position
that we would be close to our pursuers for half an hour before they
could find us.
My companions took a nap while I kept watch. They had not been asleep
long before I discovered a party of men winding their way slowly in the
semi-circle we had made. There were ten of them, all dressed in Federal
uniform. I awakened my companions, and they took a peep at them as they
were slowly tracking us, at a distance of three hundred yards. We could
hardly refrain from making war upon them, the chances being so good for
game and a little fun, but my object was to see my mother; so we let
them pass on to the place where our tracks would lead them out of sight
for a few minutes, then we mounted our horses and rode on to another
ridge, making a circuit as before, and camping within a quarter of a
mile of our first ambush. On coming to that place, the Federals struck
off in another direction, probably finding our tracks a little too
fresh for their safety.
When night came, we made our way cautiously through the woods to within
a few hundred yards of my uncle‘s house. I dismounted, and leaving my
horse with my comrades, approached the house carefully, and climbed
upon a bee-gum to peep through the window. I discovered that there were
two strange men in the room, and I thought I got a glimpse of another
man around in a corner; but as I leaned a little to one side to get a
better view, my bee-gum tilted over, and I fell with a desperate crash
on a pile of clapboards. I got up in somewhat of a hurry, and, at about
three bounds, cleared the picket fence, and deposited myself in the
corner of the garden to await the result.
The noise, of course, aroused the inmates of the house, and they were
soon out with a light, but with no utensils of war except a short
double-barreled shot-gun, in the hands of my uncle. He inspected the
damage done to his favorite bee-stand, and breathed out some rough
threats against the villains who had attempted to steal his honey.
After ordering his family and the two strangers back into the house,
he posted himself in a fence corner about thirty yards off, for the
purpose of waging war against the offenders, should they attempt to
renew the attack.
The night not being very dark, I was fearful that if I attempted to
climb over the picket fence, the old man might pepper me with shot.
So I moved myself cautiously around to the back part of the garden,
and found an opening where a picket was missing. Through this aperture
I succeeded in squeezing myself, and then crawled around to the rail
fence where my uncle was, until I got within two panels of the old
man, when I ventured to call him by name, in a very low tone. He knew
my voice, and said: “Is that you, Sam?” My answer in the affirmative
brought him to where I was, and although the fence was between us, we
took a hearty shake of the hand through a crack. He told me that the
two men in the house were Union neighbors, who came over to tell him
that the trail of a band of bushwhackers had been discovered about six
miles from there, and that on to-morrow the whole country would be out
in search of them. He told me to go back until his neighbors took
their leave, and then to come in and see my mother, who was well, but
grieving continually about her son “Sam.”
I fell back to my companions, reported progress, and again took my
stand in the fence corner. As soon as the two neighbors were gone, my
uncle made known to my mother, and to his wife and daughters, the cause
of the disturbance; the younger members of the family having retired
early in the night, were all fast asleep. As soon as my uncle thought
it prudent to do so, he came out and invited us in. Although my mother
had received the news of my visit with a quiet composure, yet, on my
approach, she arose silently and started toward me with a firm step,
but in a moment she tottered and would have fallen, but I caught her in
my arms; she lay with her head on my bosom for some minutes, weeping
like a child, and I must confess that now, for the first time since I
was a boy, I could not restrain my tears. My mother broke the silence
by uttering, in broken sentences: “Oh, my dear son! Have you indeed
come to see your mother? I thought I would go down with sorrow to my
grave, as I never expected to see you again on earth!” How my manhood
and my iron will left me at that moment! How gladly would I have left
war and revenge to the beasts of the forest, and secreted myself in
some quiet corner of the earth, that there, with my mother and my
family, I might once more take delight in the sweet songs of birds, and
in the tranquil scenes of life, like those I enjoyed in my younger
days!
My mother became more tranquil, and we talked over matters with a great
deal of satisfaction; and my uncle, to divert our minds from a subject
too serious, occasionally poked fun at me, by accusing me of trying to
steal his bee-gum, in which he was joined by my two comrades. His two
daughters were flying around in the kitchen, and presently announced
a supper for us all. We enjoyed ourselves finely until two o‘clock in
the night, at which time we were compelled to leave, in order to secure
a safe retreat from the vigilant search to be made for us during the
following day.
On starting, we rode back on our old trail half a mile, to where we
had crossed a small creek, down which we rode, keeping all the time
in the water, for about three miles, to a public road leading south,
which we followed about six miles; then, on coming to a rocky place
where our horses would make no tracks, we left the road at right angles
and traveled in the woods about two miles; here we made a semi-circle
around a hill, and camped in a commanding position. My comrades did
picket duty while I slept nearly all day. At night we went to a friend
who lived near my old residence, and from him we learned that our
trail had been discovered on our way up, that the whole militia force,
composed almost exclusively of my old enemies, together with some Dutch
regulars, were quartered at Big River Mills; that the woods were being
constantly scoured; that each ford on Big river was guarded night and
day, and that they considered my escape impossible.
Before the approach of daylight we secreted our horses in a deep
ravine, covered with brush and briars, and then hid ourselves
underneath a shelving rock near the top of a high bluff, from which, at
a long distance, we had a view of my mother‘s house—the homestead of
the Hildebrand family. We remained here all day, during which time the
house was surrounded by soldiers, how many I could not tell, but they
seemed to fill the yard and the adjoining inclosures. Presently I saw a
dense column of smoke arise from the house, which told me too plainly
that the Vandals were burning up the home of my childhood.
The flames presently burst forth through the roof and lapped out their
long, fiery tongues at every window. The roof fell in, and all that
remained of that superb house was the blackened walls of massive stone.
Gladly would I have thrown myself among those Vandals, and fought them
while I had a drop of blood remaining; but it would have been madness,
for I would have been killed too soon, and my revenge would have been
ended, while my enemies would still live to enjoy their pillage.
Immediately after dark we returned to our horses and commenced our
retreat to Arkansas; but instead of going south we traveled west about
twenty miles, until we struck on a creek called Forche a‘ Renault, in
Washington county; then turning south, we traveled over the wild pine
hills west from Potosi, and camped in a secure place between Caledonia
and Webster.
We started on in the evening, and just before sunset made a raid
on a store, getting all we wanted, including several bottles of
“burst-head.” We traveled mostly in the night, followed Black river
down to Current river, crossed at Carter‘s Ferry, and made our way
safely to Green county, Arkansas.
CHAPTER X.
Trip with two men.—Killed Stokes for informing on him.—Secreted
in a cave on Big river.—Vows of vengeance.—Watched for
McGahan.—Tom Haile pleads for Franklin Murphy.—Tongue-lashed
and whipped out by a Woman.
After remaining a few days at headquarters I commenced making
preparations for another trip against my enemies on Big river. I was
yet ignorant of the murder of my brother Henry, and knew nothing about
the burning of my mother‘s house, except what I saw at the distance of
a mile, a few hours before I started back to Arkansas. I was now fully
determined to use the same weapons upon some of my enemies, and to
retaliate by any and all means placed in my power. I told the boys my
plan. Among those who were present was Thomas Haile, or “devilish Tom”,
as he was called, and as usual, he was spinning some of his laughable
yarns; but when I spoke the name of Franklin Murphy as probably
connected with the house burning, he stopped short in his conversation,
and after a moment‘s reflection he proposed to go with me to see some
of his old friends. To this I readily consented, and after selecting
another man, we started on our way. We passed through Stoddard and
then into Wayne county after a man by name of Stokes. He had fed me on
my previous trips, inducing me to believe that he was a substantial
Southern man; I learned shortly afterwards that he was laying plans
for my capture, and had, more than once, put the Federals on my trail.
Notwithstanding I had these statements from good authority, I was
unwilling to take his life until I knew to my own certain knowledge
that he was guilty. I did not wish to fall into the error, so common
among the Federals, of killing an innocent man to gratify the personal
enmity of some informer.
Just after dark I went to his house alone, he greeted me in a very
cordial manner and remarked:
“Well, Mr. Hildebrand, I‘m glad to see you—hope you are well—and are
yet too smart for the Feds.”
“Are there any Feds in Greenville?”
“None, sir, none at all; I was there to-day; the place is entirely
clear of the scamps. By the way, Mr. Hildebrand, are you alone?”
“Oh yes; I am taking this trip by myself.”
“Glad to assist you, sir; you must stay with me to-night; I‘ll hide you
to-morrow in a safe place; can go on to-morrow night if you like; would
like for you to stay longer.”
I thanked him for his proffered assistance, but told him that as I had
troubled him so often, I would go to a neighbor‘s about a mile off and
stay until the next night. I went back a short distance to where my men
were and waited about an hour.
My two men after putting on the Federal uniform, rode around the
place and approached the house from another direction; they rode up
in a great hurry and called Mr. Stokes out. Tom Haile in a very
confidential tone commenced:
“Well sir! we are on the hot track of Sam Hildebrand! he is here again;
he robbed a man down on the Greenville road, five miles below here,
about sunset; he came in this direction, and we concluded to ride down
to your house thinking that you might have seen or heard something of
him.”
“I reckon I have, by George! Sam Hildebrand was here not more than an
hour ago, and I tried to detain him; he was alone and said he was going
to stay until to-morrow night at a certain house; I know the place;
hold on a minute! I‘ll get my gun and coat and will go with you—we‘ve
got him this time, sure!”
“All right,” said Tom, “come along; we are always glad to meet a man of
your stripe.”
He marched along with the boys until they came to where I was waiting
for them; Stokes had forgotten to ask many questions, but on coming up
to me in the dim moonlight he asked, “how many men have you?” one of my
men answered “twelve.” He at once began laying plans for my capture,
and related what he had done on previous occasions “to capture Sam
Hildebrand, but that Sam was too sharp for him.” When I thought that
he had said enough I stopped him with the remark—“I am Sam Hildebrand
myself!” and emptied old “Kill-devil” into his bosom.
We then proceeded on, traveling altogether in the night, until about
day-break; one morning we got near the ruins of the old Hildebrand
homestead, and called at the house of a friend. Knowing that we were
in an enemy‘s country and liable to be trailed, we could not sleep,
nor could we travel in the daytime, considering the fact that if our
enemies got after us we would have to run about one hundred and fifty
miles to get out of their lines, and that the government had no less
than four thousand men in active employment all the time for the
especial purpose of capturing me. We secreted our horses in a thicket
under a bluff and entered a cave near by, which was afterwards called
by my name. Our friend remained in the cave a few minutes with us, and
it was from him I learned the particulars of the atrocities committed
by the Federal troops, in the murder of my poor innocent brother Henry.
I shall not attempt to describe my feelings, when the truth flashed
across my mind that all my brothers had been slain in cold blood—Frank,
first, and now the other two—leaving me not a brother upon earth except
my brother William, who was in the Federal army, but whose well known
loyalty was not sufficient to shield his neutral brothers from an
indiscriminate butchery. For several hours I remained quietly in the
cave, studying the matter over; but finally my mind was made up. I
determined to sell my life as dearly as possible, and from that moment
wage a war of fire and blood against my persecutors, while one should
last, or until I was numbered with the dead.
I hastily gathered my arms; only one word escaped my lips: “Revenge!”
sounded and re-echoed from the deepest recesses of the cavern, and
with one wild rush I made for the mouth of the cave; but my two men
happening to be there, sprang to their feet and choked up the passage;
but near it was another outlet—I dashed through it, and down the steep
declivity I hastily made my way, and mounted my horse. But Haile was
close after me, and before I could pass around a fallen tree he had my
horse by the bridle.
“Hold on, Sam! Don‘t be a fool. If you are going to throw your life
away, you cannot expect to kill a dozen; if you take your own time you
may kill a thousand! If I go back without you, what could I tell your
wife and children? Come, Sam, you must not forget your duty to them.
See how they have clung to you! ‘Light now, and go with me to the cave.”
I have but a faint recollection of going back to our retreat; but when
I awoke it was nearly sunset, and Tom soon had me laughing in spite of
myself.
When night came we moved our position about five miles, to the
residence of William Patton, as he was a man whom I particularly
wanted; but we were unsuccessful; he was at home when we first went
there, but by some means he succeeded in eluding our grasp. We left
there, and before daylight we had secreted our horses in a thicket
on Turkey Run, a small creek emptying into Big river above Addison
Murphy‘s, and had stationed ourselves near the residence of Joe
McGahan, on the different roads leading to his house. About eight
o‘clock in the morning I concluded that it was fruitless to watch for
him any longer; so I proposed to repair to Franklin Murphy‘s residence,
which was not more than a mile from where we were; but Tom suggested
that we must now return to our horses and consult as to our future
movements.
We found our horses all right; but when I expressed a desire to stir up
Franklin Murphy for being present at the burning of my mother‘s house,
and several other little incidents that led me to think strangely of
his conduct, Tom Haile replied:
“I do not believe that he sanctioned, in any manner, the outrages of
which you speak; he could not rescue your brother Frank from the hands
of a mob who seemed to have the sanction of public opinion; he could
not prevent an army of soldiers, acting under the command of another
man, from burning the house, nor from killing your brother Henry. Once
for all, let me tell you that it will never do for you to attempt to
harm that man. He is a member of a certain Order, that dates back for
thousands of years; the members are bound together by an obligation to
watch over each other‘s interests, and to shield each other, as much as
possible, from any impending danger.”
Tom was so sincere, and looked so serious—which was not common with
him—that I told him I never would harm one of them, if I knew it,
unless it was in self-defense.
We now thought it best to make our way back to Arkansas. We passed
through Farmington and Fredericktown on the following night, and then
camped in the woods until evening. We started before night, in order to
capture some fresh horses.
Dressed in Federal uniforms, we were riding along the road in Madison
county, when on passing a farm, I saw a fine looking horse in a lot
near the house. I halted my men, dismounted and went up to the horse to
catch him, but he was a little shy, and kept his head as far from me as
possible.
While I was thus trying to get a halter on the spirited animal, a woman
stepped onto the porch and bawled out:
“See here! What are you trying to do?”
“I‘m trying to catch this horse.”
“Let him alone, you good-for-nothing! Don‘t you look pretty, you
miserable scamp, trying to steal my only horse?”
“Yes, madam, but I‘m afraid you are a rebel.”
“I am a rebel, sir, and I‘m proud of it! I have two sons in the
rebel army, and if I had six more they should all be in it. You
white-livered, insignificant scum of creation! you had better let him
alone. Why, you are worse than Sam Hildebrand! He wouldn‘t take the
last horse from a poor widow woman!”
By this time I had caught the horse, but as soon as the woman made that
last remark, I pulled the halter off, begged her pardon and left.
On getting to headquarters, Tom never let me rest about that adventure.
CHAPTER XI.
Another trip to Missouri.—Fight near Fredericktown.—Horse shot
from under him.—Killed four Soldiers.—Went into their camp
at Fredericktown and stole four horses.—Flight toward the
South.—Robbed “Old Crusty.”—Return to Arkansas.
While I was recruiting at our headquarters in Green county, Arkansas,
Capt. Bolin and most of his men returned to rest themselves for a
while. Of course our time passed off agreeably, for we all had so much
to say, and so much to listen to, that the mind was actively engaged
all the time, rendering it impossible for time to drag heavily.
Having thoroughly rested myself, on the 25th day of August I selected
three men, and we started on a trip to St. Francois county, Missouri.
Nothing unusual occurred until we arrived in Madison county. On getting
within about eight miles of Fredericktown, daylight overtook us, and we
stopped at an old friend‘s house for breakfast, who had always treated
us kindly, for I had stopped with him several times on my previous
trips. He stated to us that there were no troops in Fredericktown.
Upon receiving this information, from a source, as we supposed, so
reliable, we felt quite free, and resolved to make our journey on that
day to my old home on Big river. So, after getting our breakfast and
feeding our horses, we made our way quietly to our usual place of
crossing the gravel road leading from the Pilot Knob to Fredericktown,
when we were suddenly fired on from the brush by about fifty soldiers.
Fortunately for us, we had not kept the usually travelled path that
crossed the road at the place where the soldiers were stationed in
ambush; consequently we were about two hundred yards from them, and
none of us were hurt, though my horse was shot from under me; the ball
that pierced his chest, passing through my pantaloons, slightly burning
my knee.
At the word from me my three men whirled into the brush, and we
retreated back in the direction from which we came, my men on horses
and myself on foot. I was still lame from the effects of the wound
received at Flat Woods, but we made good time, and effected our escape.
On getting about a mile, I ordered my men to hitch their horses in a
thicket, and we would hold the place if they undertook to follow us.
After waiting for some time and not hearing from them, we concluded to
make our way cautiously back to where we had been fired upon, and try
to get a shot. We crept slowly up, and saw six or seven men near the
place, but we could not get close enough from the side we were on; so
we made our way in the direction of Pilot Knob about a mile, crossed
the gravel road behind a hill, and came up on the opposite side.
We got in sight of them just in time to see a party ride up, leading
our three horses; at this, I concluded to try one of them at long
range, seeing distinctly from our position that we could get no closer
without exposing ourselves too much. I pulled off old “Kill-devil”
at one of them who wore shoulder-straps; at the crack of the gun the
gentleman got a very hard fall, which, I am fearful, killed him. At
this they concluded to follow us into our native woods, for which they
paid very dearly. They made a dash on us, which caused us to scatter
in different directions, to divide their party up into several squads.
Each one of us took a course through the woods in the roughest places
we could find, which rendered it very difficult for them to follow. I
stopped at every place, such as fallen timber, steep banks and high
rocks, to get a pop at them, and would be off again in a different
direction. Sometimes I was in front, sometimes at one side, and
frequently in the rear. I was pleased to see them have so much pluck,
for it afforded old “Kill-devil” an opportunity to howl from every knob
and dense thicket in the wild woods until about one o‘clock in the
evening, when they gave up the chase and quit the unequal fight.
On meeting my men, at dark, on the top of a certain high hill
designated by me in the morning, I had four new notches on the stock
of old “Kill-devil,” indicating by that rough record that four more of
my enemies had gone to that land where the righteous would cease from
troubling them or making them afraid. Two of my men had killed a man
apiece, and the other had made what we call in fishing “a water haul.”
I suppose, however, that he betook himself into some secure corner to
meditate on the uncertainty of all human affairs until the danger was
over.
The Federals, on the next day, started in search of us with three or
four hundred men; but their numbers being so great, we did not make
war upon them that day. At night it rained very hard, and whilst it
was raining we went into Fredericktown; finding all things quiet about
camp, we managed to steal a horse apiece from them, but did not get
the saddles and bridles, as we were in a hurry. We got about thirty
miles on our way back to Arkansas before morning—each of my men riding
bare-backed, with only a halter for a bridle. I stopped, however, at
the old gentleman‘s where we had got breakfast, for the purpose of
having a small settlement with him, as he had deceived us in regard to
the soldiers at Fredericktown, and, as we believed, had reported us,
for we noticed that his son, a lad about fifteen years old, had rode
off while we were eating our breakfast on that morning. I stopped, but
the old man was not at home, so I took an old saddle and bridle from
him, and went on to Arkansas, leaving the Federals to hunt for us,
which we were told they kept up about ten days.
Before reaching Arkansas, however, for the purpose of laying in our
winter‘s supplies, we diverged about twenty miles from our usual course
to pay our respects to an old Union man living at the crossroads, who
had caused the expulsion of two families from the neighborhood by
reporting on them.
He still had the remnants of what had once been a full country store.
No Federal soldiers happened to be near the premises at the time, so
we rode up to his house about sunset, and while I left one man at his
door to prevent any one from leaving the house, we went with the old
crusty fellow to the store. He was not disposed to be accommodating,
but we bought everything that we could put upon our horses and upon a
mule that we borrowed of him, and, after telling him to charge it to
Uncle Sam, with the Big river mob for security, we left, and before
morning were out of the reach of danger. On reaching camp, we relieved
the needy, not forgetting the two families that “Old Crusty” had driven
from his neighborhood.
CHAPTER XII.
Trip with three men.—Captured a Spy and shot him.—Shot
Scaggs.—At night charged a Federal camp of one hundred
men.—Killed nine men.—Had one man wounded.—Came near shooting
James Craig.—Robbed Bean‘s store and returned to Arkansas.
My family still remained in Cook settlement, in St. Francois county,
Mo., and as they were in the enemy‘s country, I did not think it
prudent to pay them a visit, knowing that it would only bring ruin upon
them if the fact of my visit should ever become known to the Unionists
in that county. But I determined by some means or other to effect their
escape to Arkansas as soon as it would be prudent to make the attempt.
Capt. Bolin and his men had promised me their co-operation if called
upon for that purpose; but I was well aware that our whole force would
be insufficient for the accomplishment of the object, if attempted by
force of arms, for two or three thousand men could be brought against
me in less than twenty-four hours.
To keep myself well posted in regard to the strength of the enemy along
the route, I selected three of Quantril‘s men, and in the latter part
of September, started on another raid into Missouri. On arriving at
the St. Francis river we found it swimming, but made no halt on that
account, having by this time become inured to all kinds of hardships
and dangers.
On the second day after we started we left the main road and diverged
several miles to our right, for the purpose of traveling in day time.
On getting within sight of a house we discovered some one run into the
yard, and immediately afterwards we saw a little boy running toward a
barn. The movement being a little suspicious, we dashed forward and
were soon on each side of the barn. We discovered a man through a
crack, and demanded his surrender; he came to the door and threw up
his hands. On taking him back into the barn, we discovered his bundle
to contain a complete Federal uniform, and when we noticed that the
citizen‘s dress which he had on was much too small for him, we at once
pronounced him a Federal spy. We found a letter in his pocket, written
by a man by the name of Scaggs, to the authorities at Fredericktown,
containing the names of his rebel neighbors, whom he was desirous of
having burned out. One of the men in the list I happened to know, and
by that means I knew that Scaggs lived about seven miles from there. We
took the spy half a mile and shot him, then, changing our course, we
started on the hunt for Scaggs, whose residence, however, we did not
find until after dark. Dressed in Federal uniform, we rode up to the
gate and called him out. On arresting him we took him to the house of
a friend, who told us that Scaggs had already made two widows in that
neighborhood by reporting their husbands. We took him with us until
daylight appeared, hung him to a limb in the woods, and made our way
toward Castor creek, in Madison county.
The next night, on crossing Castor creek, we discovered a camp of
Federals; judging them to be about twenty or thirty strong, we
concluded to charge them for a few minutes; but on getting into their
camp we found that there were three or four times as many as we
expected; so we charged on through as quick as possible, still two of
our horses were killed and one of my men was slightly wounded in the
fleshy part of his thigh. After getting through their camp, we captured
the four pickets who were placed in a lane on the opposite side. As we
came from the wrong direction, they mistook us for their own men, until
we had taken them in. My two men who had lost their horses, now mounted
those taken from the pickets. As soon as the pickets told us that they
were Leeper‘s men, we shot them and hurried on.
On our return, at another time, we were told by the citizens that we
killed five and wounded several more in our charge through their camp;
making nine men killed, including the pickets.
My wounded man could not be kept in Missouri with any degree of safety,
and according to the usage of the petty tyrants who commanded the
little squads of Federals, it would have been death to any man under
whose roof the wounded man might have taken refuge; the man, without
any questions asked, would have been shot, his house and property
burned, and his wife and children turned out into the world, houseless,
forlorn and destitute. To avoid the infliction of such a calamity upon
any of our friends, my wounded man was under the necessity of making
his way alone back into Arkansas.
My other two men and myself traveled the remainder of the night in
the direction of my old home in St. Francois county. I learned that a
prolonged effort was made on the following day to trail us up to our
camp in the woods; but a rain having fallen about daylight, our tracks
were entirely destroyed. On the following night we made our way to
the house of a friend, near the ruins of my once happy home. Here I
remained, resting myself and scouting over the country on foot, two
whole days and nights, trying to shoot some of the miscreants who had
belonged to the old mob, but they kept themselves so closely huddled
that I had no chance at them.
On the second day, however, while lying near the road, James Craig,
captain of the mob—which by this time had assumed the name of
Militia—with two men whom I did not recognize, came along, riding very
fast. I got a bead on Craig, but my gun did not fire; and I will say
here, that this was the only time during the war that old “Kill-devil”
deceived me.
On returning to my friend near my old home, he stated to me that
our horses, which we had concealed in a nook in one of the bluffs
of Big river, had been discovered by some boys who were hunting,
and that they had gone to report to the militia. Upon receiving this
intelligence, we started at once to our horses, found them all right,
and, not being satisfied with the results of our trip, we concluded to
obtain some supplies from our good Union friends before leaving. We got
on Flat river about the middle of the afternoon, and rode up to a store
kept by the sons of John Bean, one of whom belonged to the Vigilance
mob—but he was not there.
The boys had sense enough to make no demonstration, so, without
damaging anything whatever, I took such things as we needed, in part
payment for my property which the mob had destroyed.
The boys looked a little displeased; they considered us bad customers,
and did not even take the trouble to book the articles against us.
The militia, having received the report of the boys, mustered their
whole force and, on the following day, struck our trail and overtook us
between Pilot Knob and Fredericktown; they followed us about ten miles,
but only got sight of us occasionally on the tops of hills we had to
pass over. Night came, and we neither saw nor heard them any more. We
traveled all night and about daylight we rode up to the house of a man
named Slater, in the southern part of Wayne county, Missouri, for whom
we had been watching for some time. He had made himself very busy ever
since the beginning of the war by reporting Southern men. He succeeded
in having several of them imprisoned, and their families impoverished.
We found him at home; his manhood wilted like a cabbage leaf; we took
him about a mile from home and shot him.
We then pursued our way home to Green county, Arkansas, and divided
our spoils amongst the destitute families driven there by the ruthless
hands of Northern sympathizers.
CHAPTER XIII.
The Militia Mob robs the Hildebrand estate—Trip with ten
men.—Attacks a Government train with an escort of twenty
men.—Killed two and put the others to flight.
Directly after the termination of my last trip, certain events
transpired in St. Francois county of which it is necessary that the
reader should be informed. I have already stated that the infamous
Vigilance mob finally came to a head by the organization of its worst
material into a militia company with James Craig for captain and Joe
McGahan for first lieutenant. As Craig could neither read nor write,
and did not know his alphabet from a spotted mule, the lieutenant was
actually the head and front of the marauders. Their design in assuming
the form and style of a militia company was merely for the purpose of
legalizing their acts of plunder. They did not pretend to take the
field against the Rebels, or to strike a single blow in defense of the
State or anything else. While drawing their pay from the government,
they spent their time hunting hogs, sheep, and cattle belonging to
other people.
Having killed all my brothers but one (and he was in the Union army
where they could not reach him), they proceeded to divide the property
of the Hildebrand estate among themselves. Mother, though decidedly a
Union woman originally, they had long since driven off to Jefferson
county, with nothing but her bed and Bible. The homestead had been
burned, yet there was an abundance of stock belonging to the estate,
and a large field of standing corn.
They collected the stock and gathered the corn, and then proceeded to
divide it among themselves. In this division they disagreed very much;
a question arose whether an officer was entitled to any more than a
private, and a few of them went home declaring that they would not have
anything if they could not get their share.
At the very time this valorous militia company had stacked their
muskets against the fence and were chasing mother‘s sheep and pigs
around through the dog fennel, I was capturing a government train and
getting my supplies in an honorable manner.
About the first of November, 1862, having learned that the Federals
were in the habit of hauling their army supplies to Bloomfield from
Cape Girardeau on the Mississippi river, Capt. Bolin and myself
determined to lay in our supplies from the same source.
We took ten men and started with about ten days‘ rations. Arriving on a
stream called White Water, which, with Castor creek, forms the Eastern
fork of St. Francis river, we concealed ourselves in an unfrequented
part of the woods. It was necessary that we should be thoroughly posted
in regard to the expected time of the arrival of the train, and the
probable strength of the escort.
I undertook this delicate mission disguised as a country farmer, in
search of a stray mule. Without my gun I made my way on foot to the
vicinity of a mill and there concealed myself near a road to await the
arrival of some one going to mill. Presently a man came along with a
cart and oxen, but I let him pass, fearing that my questions might
arouse his suspicions.
I remained there nearly an hour for some boy to pass; at length I saw
one at a distance coming slowly along, riding on his sack and whistling
little fragments of “John Brown.” I stepped into the road before he got
near me and walked along until I met him. I asked about my mule, but of
course he knew nothing about him. I told him that I had concluded to
hunt no further, but that I was anxious to return to Bloomfield if I
could only meet with a conveyance for I was tired of walking so much.
He told me that the government wagons would pass there on the following
day and perhaps I could get a ride. I told him that I would be afraid
to do that for the Rebels might capture me; he said that there was no
danger of that, for twenty soldiers always went with the wagons.
I returned to my comrades with all the information we wanted, and we
soon settled all our preliminary arrangements for the attack. After
dark we took the road along which we knew they were to pass; we
selected a place called the Round Pond, and secreted ourselves in a
clump of heavy timber through which the soldiers could not see, in
order that they might imagine the woods full of Rebels.
Night passed and the morning hours wore away, when at length we saw
two government wagons coming, and in the sunlight sure enough, twenty
bayonets were gleaming.
We suddenly broke from the woods with a great shout, and dashed in
among them with all the noise we could make. We fired a few shots,
killing two and causing the remainder to break for the woods in every
direction. The sole object of our trip being to get supplies of
clothing, ammunition, etc., we felt no disposition to hunt them down,
but let them continue their flight without any pursuers.
We unhitched the horses and packed them with such things as we needed;
after which we burned the wagons and every thing else we could not take
with us.
On starting back we went through Mingo Swamp and made our way safely to
St. Francis river, which we found out of its banks. With a great deal
of difficulty we succeeded in swimming the river with our train, but
with the loss of one man named Banks, who unfortunately was drowned.
Becoming entangled in a drift of grape vines and brush, he drowned
before we could render him any assistance.
CHAPTER XIV.
Federal cruelties.—A defense of “Bushwhacking.”—Trip with Capt.
Bolin and nine men.—Fight at West Prairie.—Started with two men
to St. Francois county.—Killed a Federal soldier.—Killed Ad.
Cunningham.—Capt. Walker kills Capt. Barnes, and Hildebrand
kills Capt. Walker.
On arriving at headquarters we busied ourselves for several weeks in
building houses to render ourselves as comfortable as possible during
the coming winter. Our headquarters were on Crawley‘s Ridge, between
the St. Francis river and Cash creek, in Green county, Arkansas. It was
a place well adapted to our purpose, affording as it did a safe retreat
from a large army encumbered with artillery.
Many of Capt. Bolin‘s men had their families with them, and our
little community soon presented a considerable degree of neatness and
comfort. I could have contented myself longer at this quiet place, but
our scouts were constantly bringing us rumors of fresh barbarities
committed by the different Federal bands who were infesting the country
in Southeast Missouri, making it their especial aim to arrest, burn
out, shoot and destroy all those peaceable citizens who from the
beginning had taken no part in the war.
They were especially marked out for destruction who had been known to
shelter “Sam Hildebrand, the Bushwhacker,” as they were pleased to
call me. If any man should happen to see me passing along the road,
and then should fail to report the same at headquarters, regardless of
the distance, he was taken out from his house and shot, without even
the shadow of a trial to ascertain whether he was guilty or not. An
old man, with his head silvered over by the frosts of seventy winters,
who had served his country in many a hard fought battle before his
tormentors were born, and who now hoped to go down the declivity of
life in peace and security, found himself suddenly condemned and
shot for disloyalty, because he generously took a stranger into his
house for the night, who afterwards proved to be “the notorious Sam
Hildebrand.”
These same miscreants, however, would call at any house they pleased,
and, by threats, compel even women, in the absence of their husbands,
to cook the last morsel of food in the house, scraped together by poor
feeble women to keep their children from starving to death.
Did I ever do that? No, never! Did I ever punish a man for feeding a
Federal? Did I ever shoot a man for not reporting to me the fact of
having seen a Federal pass along the road? If that was really my mode
of proceeding, I would deserve the stigma cast upon my name.
My enemies say that I am a “Bushwhacker.” Very well, what is a
“Bushwhacker?” He is a man who shoots his enemies. What is a regular
army but a conglomerate mass of Bushwhackers? But we frequently
conceal ourselves in the woods, and take every advantage! So do the
regular armies. But a Bushwhacker will slip up and shoot a man in the
night! Certainly, and a regular army will slip up and shoot a thousand.
But a Bushwhacker lives by plundering his enemies! So did Sherman in
Georgia, and a host of others, with this difference: That I never
charged my government with a single ration, while they did so at all
times. Besides, I never made war upon women and children, neither did I
ever burn a house; while the great marching, house-burning, _no battle
hero_, turned his attention to nothing else.
In fact, the “Independent Bushwhacking Department” is an essential aid
in warfare, particularly in a war like ours proved to be. There are a
class of cowardly sneaks, a gang of petty oppressors—like the Big river
mob—who can be reached in no other way. A large regular army might pass
through where they were a dozen times without ever finding one of them.
As I stated before, barbarities were committed by a certain band of
Federals, that warranted our interference.
Capt. Bolin, myself and nine other men mounted our horses and started
on another trip, about the first day of December, 1862.
We crossed the St. Francis, and traveled several nights, until we
reached West Prairie, in Scott county, Missouri, where we came upon a
squad of Federals, thirty in number, like an old-fashioned earthquake.
Imagining themselves perfectly safe, they had placed out no pickets; so
we ran suddenly on them, and before they had time to do any fighting
they were so badly demoralized they knew not how to fight.
We killed four, wounded several more, and charged on through their
camp, as was our custom; in half an hour we returned to renew the
attack, but found nobody to fight.
In our first charge, we caused several of their horses to break loose,
which we afterwards got. We had one man wounded, having been shot
through the thigh with a Minnie ball. Capt. Bolin and six men took the
wounded man back with them to Arkansas, while Henry Resinger, George
Lasiter and myself started on a trip to St. Francois county.
One morning, just at daylight, we found ourselves on the gravel road
leading from Pilot Knob to Fredericktown, and about seven miles from
the latter place. We concealed ourselves in a thicket and watched the
road until evening before we saw an enemy. A squad of eight Federals
came suddenly in sight, riding very fast. I hailed them, to cause a
momentary halt, and we fired. One fell to the ground, but the others
hastened on until they were all out of sight. While we were examining
our game (the dead man), we discovered three more in the distance,
who seemed to have got behind the party, and were riding rapidly
to overtake them; at this we divided, taking our stations in two
different places for the purpose of taking them in. On coming nearer
we discovered that they were not dressed in Federal uniform. We took
them prisoners and ascertained that they were Southern sympathizers
from near Fredericktown, who had been imprisoned at the Knob for
several weeks, but having been released they were on their way home.
While we were thus parleying with them, asking questions relative to
the forces at the different military posts in the country, the party
we had fired into now returned with a much larger force, and suddenly
we found ourselves nearly surrounded by a broken and scattered line on
three sides of us, at a distance of only one hundred yards. The odds
were rather against us, being about sixty men against three. I called
quickly to my men to follow me, and we dashed for the uncompleted
part of their circle. On seeing this movement they dashed rapidly
toward that part and closed the line; but when I started toward that
point it was the least of my intentions to get out at that place; I
wheeled suddenly around and went out in the rear, contrary to their
expectations, followed by my men, shooting as we ran, until we had
gained some distance in the woods; having the advantage of the darkness
that was now closing in upon us, and being on foot, we escaped from the
cavalry, who were tangled up in the brush, and were making the woods
resound with their noise.
We luckily escaped unhurt, although there were at least fifty shots
fired at us. I received two bullet holes through the rim of my hat, and
one through the sleeve of my coat, and one of my men got a notch in his
whiskers. We were not certain of having hurt any of the Federals as we
passed out of their lines. We kept together and returned to our horses;
after a short consultation we mounted and rode back to get a few more
shots at them, at long range; but when we got to the battlefield we
found no one there. Toward Fredericktown we then made our way, until we
got in sight of the place, but saw nothing of the soldiers. During the
night we visited several friends, and several who were _not_ friends,
but did no harm to any one, there being only two men at that time in
the vicinity whom we wanted to hang, and they were not at home. On the
next day we tore down the telegraph wire on the road to Pilot Knob,
and stationed ourselves about a mile from town for the purpose of
bushwhacking the Federals when they should come to fix it up; but they
were getting cunning, and sent out some Southern sympathizers for that
purpose, and we did not hurt them. But I made a contract with one of
them for ammunition, and in the evening, when we had again torn the
wire down, he came out to fix it up, and brought me a good supply of
powder and lead.
From him we learned that a general movement against us was to be made
by the troops, both at Fredericktown and the Knob, on the following day.
I knew that the whole country between there and Arkansas was in the
hands of the Federals. I knew also that they had learned my trick of
invariably making a back movement toward Arkansas, immediately after
creating an excitement.
As they seemed not likely to hunt the same country over twice, I
concluded to go north of the road and wait a few days until the
southern woods were completely scoured, and thus rendered safe for our
return.
While waiting for this to be done, I thought it a good opportunity to
hunt up a man by the name of Cunningham, who had been living in the
vicinity of Bloomfield. During the early part of the war he professed
to be a strong Southern man, and had been of some service to our cause
as a spy; but during the second year of the rebellion he changed his
plans and became to us a very dangerous enemy, and was very zealous in
reporting both citizens and soldiers to the Federal authorities.
Our intention on this trip was to arrest and take him to Col. Jeffries‘
camp, ten miles south of Bloomfield, that he might be dealt with by the
Colonel as he might see proper.
On gaining the vicinity of Farmington, where Cunningham now lived, we
learned that he was carrying on his oppressive measures with a high
hand, and was very abusive to those whom he had in his power.
It is said that he even robbed his own brother, Burril Cunningham, and
suffered him to be abused unmercifully by the squad of men under his
command. On reaching the Valle Forge we struck his trail and followed
on toward Farmington; but some Federals got upon our trail, and would
have overtaken us before we reached town, if a friend had not deceived
them in regard to the course we had taken.
We found Cunningham at his own house, and when we approached the door I
demanded his surrender; he attempted to draw a revolver, and I shot him
through the heart.
Having accomplished our object, we now returned to Bloomfield and
reported to Col. Jeffries. We remained there about three weeks.
On the 5th day of January, 1863, Capt. Reuben Barnes requested me
and my two men to assist him in capturing a man by the name of Capt.
Walker, who had a command in the Federal army, and was now supposed to
be at his home, about six miles from there.
On approaching the house, Walker ran out, holding his pistols in his
hands. As we were near enough, we ordered him to surrender, at which
he turned around and faced us. On getting a little nearer, he suddenly
shot Capt. Barnes, and started to run. Our chase was soon ended, for I
shot him dead.
We took Capt. Barnes back to Bloomfield, where he died the same day. We
then returned to Green county, Arkansas, and went into winter quarters.
CHAPTER XV.
Started alone.—Rode off a bluff and killed his horse.—Fell in
with twenty-five Rebels under Lieutenant Childs.—Went with
them.—Attacked one hundred and fifty Federals at Bollinger‘s
Mill.—Henry Resinger killed.—William Cato.—Went back to
Fredericktown.—Killed a man.—Robbed Abright‘s store.
On the 23d day of January, 1863, I started alone on a trip to Missouri,
for the purpose of making some arrangements for the escape of my family
to Arkansas. I got along very well until the second night; then as I
was riding over a brushy ridge I was suddenly hailed by “Who comes
there?”
I halted and in an instant became aware of my close proximity to a
Federal camp. I instantly wheeled my horse in the woods to the right;
dashed furiously down a steep hill side for a short distance, and then
in the darkness plunged over a precipice eight or ten feet high. My
horse fell among some rocks and was killed, but I was precipitated a
few feet further into a deep hole of water in some creek.
I was a little confused in my ideas for a while, but I had sense enough
to crawl up out of the deep water; as I stood there with my dripping
clothes I heard some of the soldiers coming down the hill toward me; so
I crossed the creek and took up the hill on the other side. I was now
completely out of their clutches and could easily have made my escape;
but I had left my gun in the deep hole, and the thought of leaving
“Kill-devil” in that predicament was more than I could bear.
In a few minutes the soldiers left and went back up the hill. I now
slipped back cautiously and got into the water to recover my gun. The
water was deep and cold; however, I waded in nearly up to my chin and
felt around with my feet for the gun. I got my foot under it finally
and raised it up; but I had no sooner got it into my hands than I saw
five or six soldiers returning with a light. As they were making their
way down through a crevice in the bluff, some ten steps above the rock
from which I had been precipitated, I had just time to wade down the
creek, which was now only a few inches deep in places, and secrete
myself behind a cluster of willows that hung over the edge of the steep
bank about twenty yards below.
The Federals remained ten or fifteen minutes, walking around my dead
horse, and around the hole of water. They threw the glare of their
lantern in every direction, and though I was completely hid from their
observation, I must acknowledge that as I stood there in the water,
shivering with cold, holding my dripping gun, I felt more like anything
else in the world than a major. Finally they struck the trail that I
had made up the hill with my dripping clothes and each one of them went
in pursuit.
Taking this opportunity I slowly left my retreat and waded down the
creek for a long distance. I climbed up the hill on the same side on
which the Federals were camped; I made a wide circuit around them and
came into the road, some four or five miles ahead. I walked rapidly to
keep myself warm, and just before the break of day I arrived at the
house of a friend, wet, hungry, and on foot. I was soon supplied with
everything I wanted; my gun was well attended to, and when morning came
“Kill-devil” looked rather brighter than usual.
I started on in the direction of Fredericktown and fell in with
twenty-five Rebel boys, commanded by Lieut. Childs, who asked me to
take command of his men and give the Federals a “whack” at Bollinger‘s
Mill, on Castor creek.
That locality for some time had been a place of rendezvous for Southern
recruits; that fact being well-known, the Federals concluded to
station some men there. They were known to be about one hundred and
fifty strong, but I consented on condition that his men all take an
oath never to surrender under any circumstances. After the oath was
administered we marched to the place above mentioned, arriving there
about eleven o‘clock at night, on the 4th of February. We succeeded
in capturing their pickets, made a charge on their camp, fought them
for about five minutes (or until they got ready to fight); killed
twenty-two of their number as we were informed afterwards, and at the
word we marched out on double-quick time. We took four prisoners with
us and got some important information from them, but finding that they
were not McNeal‘s men we released them all.
We lost one man killed, Henry Resinger, and three badly wounded, who
recovered.
We carried the wounded with us in our retreat, and at daylight we all
started for Mingo Swamp.
The Federals followed us, and as our march was retarded by our wounded;
they made their way around and charged us, striking our columns at
right angles, they divided our line-cutting off seven of my men, whom
they took prisoners.
In this little skirmish I lost one man, and killed three of the
Federals, at which they left our trail and permitted us to make our way
to St. Francis river, which we were compelled to swim.
We got one horse drowned, but got over safely without any other
accident, struck camp and commenced getting our breakfast, dinner and
supper, all the same meal. Presently some one from the opposite shore
called for us to bring him a horse. From his voice we knew him to be
William Cato, one of the seven who had been taken as a prisoner. One of
my men swam over to him with a horse, and when he had arrived safely in
camp, he informed us that six of the prisoners were shot, and that he
had made his escape by dodging them in the brush. He was barefooted,
and had torn nearly all his clothing off.
We afterwards learned that the officer in command at Bollinger‘s Mill
was Capt. Leeper from Ironton, Missouri.
Not being satisfied with my trip, I did not remain but one week in
camp, before I selected two men and started back to Missouri to make
another effort towards getting my family to Arkansas. On getting
to Fredericktown we found the place full of soldiers. In that town
there lived a Dutchman, whose meddlesome disposition led him to be
very zealous in the cause of putting soldiers on the track of private
citizens. It seems that he never left town, and that it would be
impossible to kill him unless it were done in public.
After night I layed off my coat, and gathering up a saw buck, which I
found at a wood pile, I walked straight across a street or two, until
I reached the door, thinking thereby not to attract any particular
attention; but on being told that he was not at home, I carried myself
out of town as soon as circumstances would permit, got with my two men
and started on toward Farmington. When morning began to approach we
left the road several miles and secreted ourselves on a certain hill,
for a friend on whom we had called during the night told us that the
military authorities were aware of my presence in the neighborhood, and
that they had secured the services of two or three good woodsmen to aid
in tracking me up.
About one o‘clock in the afternoon we discovered a man tracking us
slowly around our steep hill, looking cautiously ahead, holding his
gun in a position to raise and fire in an instant. The ground was hard
and our horses were not easily trailed, but our pursuer kept moving
along very slowly. We were at a loss to know whether he was really a
brave man or a natural fool. Not coming to any definite conclusion
however, I concluded to make my way down the hill a little to gratify
his curiosity by letting him find me. I wounded him severely on purpose
to let him see me, but he yelled so loud that I had to kill him with my
knife, for I wanted “peace” about that time.
We heard some horsemen coming, so we hastened away from there and
secreted ourselves in a thicket on Wolf creek, near the residence of
John Griffin.
Here I learned that my wife had procured a little wagon and a small
yoke of oxen, with which to move to Arkansas; that she started with
the family on the 16th day of February, and by this time was in the
vicinity of Bloomfield.
At night we went out on the plank road leading from Farmington to Ste.
Genevieve and fired into a camp of Federals; we could not get near
enough to do them any harm, but wished to draw them out to hunt for us;
but in this we failed and had to abandon the project.
From there we went to the junction of the Pilot Knob and Iron Mountain
roads, and robbed a store belonging to a Dutchman by the name of
Abright We patronized him very liberally and started back to Arkansas
with all the goods we could pack.
At this stage of the war the Federals held possession of all the
principal places in Southeast Missouri. Bloomfield was also held by
them, and there was no doubt in my mind but what my family was now in
their hands.
While passing through Stoddard county, the Federals overtook us, and
run us so closely that we were compelled to throw off a part of our
loads; on arriving at St. Francis river we found it guarded. Our only
chance was to whip the Federals, and we determined to try it. We
retreated into a dense cane brake and then commenced upon them. We
killed three of their men on the second round and then they fled. We
got home safely and were again prepared “to clothe the naked and feed
the hungry.”
CHAPTER XVI.
Started to Bloomfield with three men.—Fight at St. Francis
River.—Starts on alone.—Meets his wife and family.—They had
been ordered off from Bloomfield.—Capture and release of Mrs.
Hildebrand.—Fight in Stoddard county.—Arrival in Arkansas.
For the purpose of getting my family to Arkansas, it was necessary that
I should make a trip to Bloomfield, although that place was now held by
a large Federal force under McNeal.
I started with three good men, crossed the St. Francis river at a
shoal, but we had not proceeded more than ten miles when we ran into a
company of McNeal‘s men, who instantly fired upon us, slightly wounding
one of my men in the fleshy part of his arm.
We thought it best for four men to retreat from the fire of nearly
one hundred, which we did, in double-quick time. They pursued us very
closely, but were at too great a distance for them to shoot us.
Wishing to get a few shots at them, we concluded to cross the river and
give them a fight from the other side; so we plunged our horses in the
deep water at the nearest point, were swimming, and had nearly gained
the opposite shore, when the Federals ran onto the bank we had just
left and fired a volley at us with their muskets; but their shots were
all too high.
We reached the bank where the willows were very thick, jumped off our
horses and returned the fire. From our place of concealment we could
easily see that three of their number were killed. They kept up a
random fire at the willow thicket, in which they wounded three of our
horses and caused them to run up into the woods, terribly affrighted.
By this time they had ceased firing and had taken refuge behind trees,
and were watching for our movements; in this position they stood two
rounds from our rifles, in which four of them fell, having been shot
through the head. Before we could get another shot we discovered a
portion of the men making their way up the river, and I understood at
once that their intention was to engage our attention at that place,
while a part of the command would make their way around and take us in;
so we retreated in good order to a place of safety, and remained all
night.
The next morning we crossed the river in company with several others
and found that the Federals during the night after the fight had gone
to Bloomfield. They procured a wagon and team from an old man living
near for the purpose of hauling off their dead. The old man stated to
us that there were seven killed and two wounded.
I now decided to change my tactics, and try my luck alone and on foot.
I thought that by stealthy movements I could find my family and get
them off to Arkansas much better than with a small company of men.
In a few days I met my family about twenty miles south from Bloomfield
on their way to Arkansas, in an old wagon pulled by a small yoke of
oxen, which my wife was driving. I learned from her that some of Capt.
Bolin‘s men had removed her from Flat Woods to Bloomfield, in Stoddard
county, Missouri, but that McNeal, on taking possession of the town,
had ordered her to leave, adding that the wife and family of that
“desperado, Sam Hildebrand,” could not remain within one hundred miles
of his headquarters.
With the wagon and oxen furnished her by a friend to our cause, she
took the children and some provisions and started out upon the road,
and when I met them she was making her way as best she could, but was
just preparing to camp for the night in the lone woods. She cautioned
me very particularly about the Federals, and said that she had seen
two or three squads that day. On the following morning we resumed our
journey, and about ten o‘clock I met six Union soldiers, who came
suddenly upon me at a short turn in the road, but, being dressed in
Federal uniform, they did not suspicion me as being a Rebel. They asked
me to what command I belonged, and I answered them to Capt. Rice‘s,
stationed at that time in Fredericktown; at this they seemed satisfied,
and passed on, swearing vengeance against any Rebels that might fall in
their way.
As soon as they were out of sight, I told my wife to drive on, while I
traveled through the brush awhile. I had scarcely got out of the road
when I discovered a whole regiment of Federal soldiers, not more than
half a mile off, who were coming directly toward us. I soon gained an
eminence in the woods, from which I could observe their maneuvers. They
stopped at the wagon, and after parleying with my wife for several
minutes, they turned her team around and took my family along.
At this juncture it is needless to say that I became enraged, and
knowing an old rebel citizen about two miles off, I resolved at once
to go to him, thinking that perhaps I might hear from some of our
boys, for I was sure that if there were any in the neighborhood the
old man would know it. I was overjoyed when he told me that James Cato
and Wash Nabors were taking a nap in the barn, while he was standing
on the lookout. I repaired to the barn at once, told them the fate
of my family, and that I wanted their assistance that we might amuse
ourselves in bushwhacking them.
After getting something to eat, and some provisions to take along with
us, we started through the dense forest, and got in sight of them about
sundown. Before darkness set in we killed a man apiece, and then lurked
around the camp all night. About every two hours, Cato, Nabors and
myself would meet at a certain hill, designated before dark, and report
progress. I made a great many random shots, but I think that during the
night I killed as many as fifteen men. My comrades thought that they
both together killed as many more. I learned afterwards that the number
we killed during the night was just thirty; none were wounded that I
ever could hear of.
Morning began to approach, and we fell back to a high hill, until they
began to move toward Bloomfield. Throughout the day they kept their
skirmish lines so strong that we could do nothing; however, we got
several shots, at long range, at their scouts, but during the entire
day I was not certain of killing more than two men.
We kept in the woods, as near the troops as we could, until we had
followed them into the very suburbs of Bloomfield; then we started
back along the road about dark, intending to pick up stragglers. Judge
of my surprise and joy when, on going back, I came across my wife and
children sitting by the roadside, where the Federals had left them
about noon, but without the oxen and wagon, and without any provisions,
bedding or change of clothing.
The capture of my wife had proved rather fatal to them, and her
detention among them had produced nothing but disaster and death.
It reminded me of a passage of Scripture that I once heard my mother
read from the Book of Samuel, giving an account of the Philistines
having captured the ark of the covenant; they took it from one place
to another, but a plague was produced wherever it was detained, until
many thousands were dead. Finally, to get it out of their hands, they
hitched up a yoke of cattle to a cart, and without any driver started
it out of the country. The Federals, however, varied somewhat from the
Philistines, for, instead of giving her a cart and oxen, and loading
her down with presents of gold, they took her wagon and oxen and
everything else she had, and left her by the roadside in an unknown
wilderness.
On seeing me my family was greatly relieved in mind, yet they were in a
starving condition, and we had nothing to divide with them. Believing
that the “ark” might have been left there for the purpose of trapping
me, I took my position about two hundred yards from my family, and
remained while my two comrades were gone after something for them to
eat. After their return I made a fire for my wife in the woods, and
gave her directions in regard to the course she must travel in the
morning, in order to reach the house of our old friend. After bidding
them adieu, I was forced to leave them in their forlorn condition. We
hastened on to our old friend and requested him to meet my family as
early as possible, and convey them to his house. He did so; and in the
evening of the same day, having procured the use of a team, we started
on for Arkansas.
Col. McNeal sent out a party from Bloomfield, under Capt. Hicks, who
followed us to the St. Francis river, but we had got across, and they
did not venture very close to the bank, having learned a lesson from me
on my upward trip a short time before.
We arrived safely at Capt. Bolin‘s camp, and my family was soon safely
housed and supplied with the necessaries of life, in the charming
little community where a score of pleasant families resided.
CHAPTER XVII.
Put in a crop.—Took another trip to Missouri with six
men.—Surrounded in a tobacco barn.—Killed two men in
escaping.—Killed Wammack for informing on him.—Captures some
Federals.—and releases them on conditions.—Went to Big River
Mills.—Robbed Highley‘s and Bean‘s stores.
Having succeeded in getting my family to Green county, Arkansas, I
settled on a piece of land whose owner had left for parts unknown,
intending to hold the same until the owner should return. During the
month of April, 1863, I was an “honest farmer,” and by the 10th day of
May I finished planting a field of corn, while at the same time my wife
put in a large garden.
At this occupation I enjoyed myself very well for a while; I got some
chickens, a few pigs, and a milch cow, so that my family could get
along without materially interfering with my main object in life—that
of killing my enemies.
The boys were now anxious to make another trip to Missouri; so I took
six men and started for Castor creek, in Madison county, after some
notorious scamps who had been giving us trouble on previous trips,
by putting the Federals on our trail, besides the constant annoyance
they gave Southern citizens in that country, by reporting them to the
Federals.
We passed west of Bloomfield through the Southern part of Madison
county, arriving in the neighborhood about daylight on the morning of
the fourth day from home, secreted our horses, leaving three men to
guard them, while myself and the others proceeded to spy out the men
for whom we had come in search. We did not succeed in finding any of
them, and after returning to our camp in the woods at sunset, we went
to an old friend‘s about three miles distant, where we could get a
night‘s sleep, and something to eat for ourselves and horses.
On arriving, our old friend received us kindly, but told us that as
he was not well we would be under the necessity of taking care of our
own horses, which we were very willing to do. After supper we tied
our horses in a neighboring thicket; but as the weather was rather
inclement, we repaired to an old tobacco barn for shelter; it was about
one hundred yards from the woods on one side, and about two hundred
on the other. Here we slept soundly, keeping one man on watch all the
time, but as we had not slept more than one hour in each twenty-four
since starting, our sentinel fell asleep. In the morning I went out
to take a peep at the weather, and was saluted by a shot that struck
a board just above my head. I sprang into the barn, raised the alarm,
and took a peep at the position of our enemies. They were about thirty
strong, and had completely surrounded the barn, posting themselves
behind stumps and old trees, but at a distance of about one hundred and
fifty yards.
The extent of their circle made their lines very weak, and perceiving
that they were much the strongest in front of the barn, I ordered my
men to remove the underpinning from one place in the rear of the house.
We crept through this aperture, and lay on the ground at the back of
the building, being protected from observation by a pile of rubbish. I
proposed taking the lead, and directed my men to follow in a straight
line, but to keep twenty or thirty feet apart. I arose and started at
full speed; but before I got fifty yards, all the Federals who were in
sight of me, fired off their guns; yet I was not killed, but felt a
stinging sensation on the point of my shoulder, which afterwards proved
to be a slight abrasion, caused by a musket ball. On reaching the line,
I shot the two men with my revolver who were guarding that point,
without making the least halt; but I could not help feeling a thrill of
pity for them and wished that they were again alive and on my side, for
they were brave men and faced the music nobly, but missed their aim.
My men followed me through to the woods unhurt, save one poor fellow,
who was pierced by a musket ball just as he reached the edge of the
timber.
On reaching the woods, which were very thick, we felt much relieved,
and were quite at home. We reached our horses, and fearing that the
Federals might find them, we mounted and rode back to give them a
little brush; but finding them all gone, we made our way around to our
friend in whose barn we had slept, but found that the Federals had
killed him, and had committed many other depredations about the place
before leaving. Our kind lady, who had thus so unexpectedly been made a
widow, was suffering the pangs of uncontrollable sorrow, but from her
broken sentences we learned that a citizen by the name of Wammack was
with the soldiers, and was probably the informant at whose instigation
the whole tragedy had been brought about, and that as the soldiers left
in the direction of Fredericktown, he took the road toward his house.
We concluded to try, and if possible, to get Wammack. I ordered three
of my men to take the horses out of the neighborhood, to travel over
ground where they would occasionally make plain tracks, until they
got to a certain creek, eight or ten miles off, then to turn back,
keeping in the creek some distance, and then to secrete themselves in
the bushes near the residence of one Mr. Honn. Our arrangements having
been completed, we separated; myself and my two men had not proceeded
far, keeping all the time near the road, before we discovered three
men coming from the direction of Wammack‘s house. When they were near
us, we hailed them, and leaving our guns, we stepped out into the road
where they were and inquired the way to Cape Girardeau. We told them
that we had obtained furloughs at Ironton the day before, and were on
our way to Illinois to see our families, but that a few miles back we
met some soldiers, who stated that they had got into a skirmish with
the bushwhackers and were going to Fredericktown to bring out the
whole force; so we concluded to hide in the woods until they returned.
They mistook us for Federal soldiers, sure enough, and one of them
related the whole circumstance in a very jubilant manner, stating that
he was with the soldiers at the time, that they had killed four of
the bushwhackers and the old Rebel who had harbored them, and that if
he had his way he would burn up the whole premises. I suggested that
we had better go to the main road and wait until the force came; but
he objected, for the reason that he wished to see who buried the dead
bushwhackers.
By this time I thought I could venture to ask him his name, and after
telling me that his name was Wammack, and that he was “all right,” he
made a motion to proceed, at which we drew our revolvers and told him
that he was a prisoner. The other two having answered a sign which
I made while talking to Wammack, I saw that _they_ were “all right”
instead of him. I told them that they could go, but requested them to
bury the dead, which they cheerfully agreed to do.
Just as this conversation ended, Wammack suddenly jerked out his
revolver and attempted to shoot one of my men and broke to run; the
movement was so sudden and so unexpected that he got nearly forty yards
before we succeeded in killing him.
We then left that part of the country and went to Wayne county; while
stopping there for supper at the house of an old Rebel, a young man
came in and stated that about five miles from there, on Lost creek, he
saw some Federals putting up for the night; on receiving this pleasing
information, we determined to go and take them “out of the wet,” as one
of my boys expressed it, and after feeding our horses and taking our
rations, we were soon on our way for that purpose.
We found the place without much difficulty, made our way to the house
and knocked at the door. The man of the house came, and in answer to
our questions, stated that there were five Federals sleeping in the
stable loft, and that their horses were in the stable. After telling
the old man who we were, and ordering him not to leave the house, we
proceeded to surround the stable, which stood in the middle of a lot
of perhaps about half an acre. Our positions having been taken, I set
fire to a hay stack that stood in the corner of the lot, nearly in
front of the stable door. When the hay blazed up, the light shone so
suddenly on the Federals that they sprang to their arms in a great
fright. I hailed them, demanding their surrender, and told them that I
was Sam Hildebrand, and that I and my twenty men had them completely in
our clutches, but that if they would surrender without firing a gun,
I would let them off on easy terms. To this they gladly acceded, and
coming down from the loft, they piled their arms in the lot. I ordered
two of my men to extinguish the fire that had caught in the fence, and
then proceeded to negotiate with our prisoners, which was done in a
friendly and satisfactory manner. Rough jokes were passed back and
forth with perfect freedom, and they repeated some of the many tales
of blood circulated in camps about me, in which I was represented as a
hero more daring and dreadful than “Jack the Giant Killer.”
At this time there were two of Capt. Bolin‘s men in prison at Ironton,
who had been captured while on a scout up Black river in Reynolds
county, Missouri; and as my prisoners belonged to the command stationed
at that place, I proposed to them that if they would pledge themselves
that by some means or other they would manage to let the two boys
escape, we would release them, and permit each one to retain his
private property. To this they agreed; they retained their pistols, but
gave up their guns and horses.
We all stayed until morning, took breakfast together with the old
man, who seemed highly pleased at the turn matters had taken, and
occasionally contributed to our fun by some of his timely jokes.
After breakfast we separated, the Federals making their way on foot,
carrying a pass from me, written by one of my men, to prevent any of
our boys from molesting them on their way, should they happen to fall
into their hands.
After a short consultation with my men, we concluded that it was about
time to make our enemies in St. Francois county pay their taxes to the
Southern Confederacy. On the evening of the last day of May, we rode
into the little town at Big River Mills, and made a haul on the store
of John B. Highley, but not being certain of his politics, we were
very light on him. We then went six miles further to John Bean‘s store
on Flat river, arriving there about 11 o‘clock in the night. We knew
him to be a strong Union man, and we knew also that one of his sons
belonged to the Big river mob. We supplied ourselves with such articles
as were needed by the families at Capt. Bolin‘s camp.
In a few days after our arrival in Green county, the two boys who had
been in prison at Ironton, came in, and related to us that the guards
who permitted them to escape, told them all about the contract they had
entered into with me. Those Federals deserve much credit for keeping
their word.
CHAPTER XVIII.
Took seven men.—Went to Negro Wool Swamp.—Attacked fifteen
or twenty Federals.—A running fight.—Killed three.—Killed
Crane.—Betrayed by a Dutchman.—Hemmed in a house by
Federals.—Fight and escape.—Killed eight soldiers.—Caught and
hung the Dutchman.
Concluding to take a trip to Negro-Wool Swamp, I selected seven good
men, and struck out; making our way slowly, we visited our Southern
friends, and passed off the time very pleasantly with them. We made
but few miles a day until nearing the point to which we had started,
the object of our trip being to take in a couple of very noisy Union
men, for the purpose of giving them a nice necktie of our own make,
manufactured from the textile fabric of nature‘s own production that
we occasionally stripped from the thrifty young hickories in the shady
woods. But while we were on the lookout for them, a scout of Yankees,
fifteen or twenty in number, came into the neighborhood, and we
concluded to let the two meddlesome Unionists rest for the present and
to give the Federals a chase. We ascertained their exact locality, and
at sundown I gave one of them a dead shot from old “Kill-devil,” which
was all that was necessary to give them a start, and I assure you it
was “a running start.”
Seeing the course they took, we knew that they were bound for
Bloomfield, so we mounted and started in pursuit; but they knew so well
who was after them that they gave us no show for a fight; however,
being much better acquainted with the country than they were, I made
my way, with one of my men, across on a nearer route, and got in ahead
of them, while my other boys kept up the chase. We did not beat them
much, for when we had gained the point, we heard them coming at full
speed, and as they passed, we both fired at the same time; only one man
fell, and as “old Kill-devil” was in the habit of tearing a tolerable
large hole, we had no dispute about who did it. From there on to within
a few miles of Bloomfield, our chase was in vain; a streak of greased
lightning could hardly have caught them. Knowing that a considerable
force would now be sent out into the vicinity of Negro-Wool Swamp to
clear that country of bushwhackers, we concluded not to return to that
place, but wound our way around south of Bloomfield, and ran suddenly
on to a man by the name of Crane, for whom one of Capt. Bolin‘s men
had been hunting for more than a year; as he was not along, and we
were acting as a band of brothers, I took it upon myself to shoot
the _fowl_. After having done so, we made our way into Wayne county,
where we remained several days, enjoying the rich luxuries placed at
our disposal by our friends in that country. We then took a scout
on Black river, and stopped with a German, who had always professed
great friendship for us, and who, on this occasion, greeted us very
warmly, and seemed to put himself to a great deal of inconvenience to
make us comfortable; he stood watch for us, as usual, while we slept
in an unoccupied house. Our minds being free from suspicion, we slept
quite soundly for three or four hours, but I was aroused by the sound
of horses‘ feet; and by the time I had awakened my men, and made ready
for our escape, we were completely surrounded. Through a crack I took a
hasty peep, and saw our old friend, the German, on horseback and in the
line of the Federal soldiers.
At this juncture, two of my men were in favor of surrendering; I
answered by telling them to follow me. There being a dense forest in
front of the house, not more than one hundred and fifty yards off, I
made for it in my fleetest manner, holding my gun in my left hand and
my revolver in my right; I would have killed the Dutchman as I ran, but
he was on the opposite side of the house; a whole volley was fired at
us as we went, killing one of my men and wounding two more slightly,
but not sufficiently to disable them from duty, and giving me four very
slight wounds. As we passed out, we fired two or three shots a piece
with our revolvers, killing two of their horses, and wounded one man
seriously in the face.
On gaining the woods we felt very well over our narrow escape, and made
our way for a gap in the bluff, about half a mile off, through which we
knew the Federals could not easily ride; we gained the point, stopped
to rest ourselves, and reloaded our pistols; after which we made our
way to the top of the bluff, and discovered through the thick brush, at
a distance of not more than two hundred yards, the Federals approaching
slowly and cautiously toward us. I gave my men orders to fire in the
same order in which they lay, that is for our extremes to fire on
theirs, so that no two men would fire at the same Federal.
[Illustration: FEDERAL STAMPEDE]
When fairly within gun shot I gave the word and we fired; four of them
fell dead, and one fellow, badly wounded, broke down the hill calling
loudly on the name of the Lord. Our rifles were quickly reloaded and
we followed cautiously after them in the direction of our friend‘s
house where we came so near being taken in; on gaining the edge of
the woods we discovered them sitting on their horses, near the house
from which we had escaped. They seemed to be holding a council of
war; one of them who had on shoulder-straps, appeared to be making a
speech. The distance being about one hundred and fifty yards some of
my men objected to shooting, but I answered by giving the word slowly,
“ready,—aim,—fire!” At the discharge of our rifles, four of them fell,
and the gentleman with shoulder-straps was helped from his horse.
At this juncture, they began to form themselves into about twenty
different lines, with only one abreast, each man being in advance, and
each one bringing up his own rear. It was a novel military position,
a kind of “nix cum rous,” but it worked well and in almost an instant
they seemed to be spirited away, and we saw no more of them.
We made our way down Black river about two miles and camped for the
night, and the next morning about sunrise I went to the house of a
friend, who lived back in the woods to obtain provisions for my men.
He told me that the Federals had left for Greenville immediately after
our second round at them, and had given orders to some citizens to bury
their dead, and on the following day to send the horses to Patterson,
which they left in their care, and which included those they had
captured from us; at which place they would meet them with a large
force and proceed to exterminate the Bushwhackers.
I obtained what provisions we wanted and hastened back to camp. After
eating we hurried over to the Patterson road, selected a good position,
and waited impatiently for the men to come along with the horses.
About ten o‘clock in the forenoon an old man about sixty years of age,
and three little boys came slowly along with them. After they had
approached sufficiently near, we stepped out and I addressed the old
man in a very friendly manner, and stated our business, at which he
made some serious objections, remarking as he removed his old cobpipe,
that it was rather against his orders, “to deliver the horses up to Sam
Hildebrand.” As the old man gave the horses up, I could easily perceive
a smile of secret satisfaction lurking about his face. The little boys,
however, were badly scared, and seemed to realize the fact that Sam
Hildebrand had them. We took possession of the horses, fourteen in
number, and according to previous arrangements, five of the boys struck
for Green county, Arkansas, with them, while one of them stayed with
me, on foot, for the purpose of killing the German who had betrayed
us, and thus came so near having us taken in, and who had caused one
of the bravest men in the Southern Confederacy, to be killed. After
sending the old man and the boys away I took leave of my men, and with
my comrade repaired to a neighboring hill, rested and slept by turns,
until near sunset.
From the position we occupied I had a fair view of the surrounding
country, and particularly the main road leading to Patterson. But
during the day all was quiet, save when a citizen would occasionally
pass along the road.
As night approached we became restless from inaction, and before the
sun had shed its last rays upon the neighboring hills we were on our
way to the scene of our tragedy the day before.
Arriving there before it was entirely dark we took our position in the
fence corner near the house, and here we lay in silent impatience until
the gray horizon warned us that our watch for the present was ended. We
quietly retired to the house of a friend for our breakfast, not having
eaten anything except a piece of corn bread since the morning before.
Having partaken heartily of our friend‘s rough but substantial fare,
we again repaired to the house of our treacherous German enemy, having
sworn in our wrath to take his life before leaving the country, and
succeeded in gaining a position within one hundred yards of his house
and directly in front of the door. Here we remained all day, during
which time the family seemed to be discharging their domestic duties
very cheerfully. About four o‘clock in the afternoon two strange men
rode up to the house and held a conversation with the lady for several
minutes and then rode off in the direction they came, this gave us
some hope that the Dutchman would soon be at home. It was evident that
as he had left with the Federals the day before in their retreat, and
in great haste, that he had made no arrangements for a long absence;
and it was more than probable that those two men only came to see
whether or not the way was clear. We felt indeed that our most sanguine
expectations were soon to be realized; but the hour passed slowly on;
we changed our position after dark to a place in the fence corner,
near the woodpile, and here we remained until the night was half
spent. Then we were made glad by the sound of horses‘ feet coming from
the direction of Patterson; as the sound came nearer we could easily
perceive that the noise was made by only one horse.
Advancing slowly, the Dutchman approached the house, alighted at the
woodpile and tied his horse to the end of one of the limbs within a
few feet of us. Just then we arose and demanded his surrender. The old
fellow was very badly alarmed and called alternately on the Almighty
and Mr. Hildebrand for mercy; but I gave him to understand that it
was useless for him to beg for mercy; that he was a prisoner and that
we expected to take him to headquarters as a prisoner of war. His
wife came out to the fence immediately on his arrival, and it was her
presence alone that prevented us from shooting him on the ground.
I guarded him while my comrade went to the stable to look for another
horse; but finding nothing there but an old mule, he came back leading
it with a blind bridle.
I requested the lady to loan me a saddle, and she soon returned with
her own side saddle, and remarked that it was the only saddle on the
place. I told her I could not rob a lady; to keep the saddle, and that
I was sorry from my heart to be compelled to give her uneasiness or
trouble; that war had no mercy, and that through it all I hoped that
she would be protected from harm.
We tied the old man‘s hands behind him, and then tied him on the mule
without any saddle; at which the mule humped up his back, gave us a
specimen of mule melody on a base note that re-echoed among the hills,
and then became more quiet. We started on leading the horse and mule,
but we had to stop several times to let the mule finish braying, for he
would not budge an inch until he got entirely through. We went about a
mile and then proceeded to hang the Dutchman. He spoke only once and
then the mule chimed in, and before he had finished, the Dutchman was
swinging to a limb. To render his duplicity still more apparent, it
should be borne in mind that he was now completely dressed in Federal
uniform, having probably enlisted during his absence. Previous to the
hanging, we had taken from him his pocket book and a revolver.
We now mounted the horse and mule, and went on about two miles,
stopped at the house of a friend and called for something to eat.
Our friend, on hearing what had taken place, plead manfully for the
lady whom we had so lately made a widow, stating that she was a good
woman, recounted many good deeds she had performed, and finished by
adding that she would now be entirely dependent on the charity of the
community for support, and insisted on us having the horse and mule
sent back.
We readily consented to this, and told him also that we would much
rather she had the pocket book also, for on counting the money we found
that it contained forty dollars.
No one could deliver the mule, horse and money to her without being
considered in some measure implicated. Finally it was agreed for our
friend to take the horse and mule back while it was yet night; to leave
them near the premises and to throw the pocket book over the gate into
the yard. All things being arranged we started on foot for our homes in
Arkansas, and arrived there safely.
CHAPTER XIX.
Took eight men.—Attacked a Federal camp near Bollinger‘s Mill
at night.—Lost two men killed and one wounded.—His men return
to Arkansas.—He went alone to St. Francis county.—Watched the
farm of R. M. Cole to kill him.—Was checked by conscience.
I remained two weeks at home plowing, and then went on a scout to
the vicinity of Mingo Swamp with eight men. We watched around for
several days to capture some infamous scamps in that country who had
been giving our friends trouble from the beginning of the war. Being
too cowardly to go into the army, they were staying at home and were
constantly annoying peaceable citizens by making false reports against
them of every kind.
Having failed to get any of them, we concluded to make another trip
over onto Castor Creek, for my men were always anxious to go to parts
of the country frequented by the Federals. We had been on Castor but
one day and night when a party of Federals came along, making their way
through the country, and camping within a short distance of Bollinger‘s
Mill. We were quietly enjoying ourselves in the nook of rocky range of
brushy hills when a runner came to inform us of the fact. Of the exact
number of the Federals he did not know.
It was with some difficulty that I restrained my men to wait until a
proper hour of the night before making the attack, but finally about
ten o‘clock I gave the word to get ready, which was done in a very few
minutes. Going around the hills we struck the main road about a mile
from their camp. We rode very slowly until we routed the pickets, then
dashed on and crowded them into camp; but the locality of their camp
and the position in which they had taken up quarters, had not been
stated to us correctly; consequently we came out somewhat worsted.
They had chosen a narrow place in the road, and had turned their wagons
across it, so that in our attempt to dash through their camp, as was
our custom, we found our progress suddenly stopped; this bothered us
so badly that they opened a heavy fire on us, killing two of my men
and wounding another slightly before we had time to retreat. We were
not certain of having killed any of them, but were afterwards told by
a citizen that we wounded three, one of whom died next morning. After
this unfortunate mistake my remaining men wanted to go back to Green
county, Arkansas, where our wounded companions could be properly cared
for; to which I consented, and bidding them adieu I started alone to
St. Francois county, Missouri.
I now thought this a favorable opportunity to take vengeance upon R.
M. Cole for the course he had taken at the time my brother Frank was
hung by the Big river mob. That matter had never yet been redressed,
and my mind was yet harrassed by conflicting impressions concerning
his guilt or innocence in the matter. That he was a Southern man I very
well knew, but that it was his duty, as a civil officer, to wrest my
brother from the clutches of a merciless mob I knew equally well. I
will here remark that all my evil impressions concerning his complicity
in the hanging of my brother have long since been entirely removed
from my mind; but at time of which I am now writing, I finally adopted
the unwelcome conclusion that he was evidently guilty. I escaped the
vigilance of my enemies, and of the hundreds of soldiers whose especial
duty it was to watch out for me; and unobserved by any one who would be
likely to inform against me, I succeeded in reaching his farm, on Flat
river, and found to my joy that he had not yet finished plowing. I went
around to the back part of the farm, hitched old Charley to a sapling
in the woods, and taking old “Kill-devil” in my hand, I cautiously
approached the cornfield where I had seen him plowing from a distance,
and about sunset I secreted myself in a fence corner about ten rows
from where he had plowed the last furrow. I waited until I became
satisfied that he had stopped for the night. It was now about dark.
I went back to where I had hitched my horse, unsaddled him and went in
search of feed. I soon found an abundance of oats already cut in the
field. On my way back I chanced to cross a splendid melon patch; on the
ripe melons I made out my supper, feeling thankful for my good luck so
far.
My only chance now was to wait until morning, which I did, making
myself as comfortable as possible during the night.
In the morning I took my station again in the fence corner with old
“Kill-devil” already cocked. After a long delay, as I thought it, he
made his appearance, following along behind the plow and singing most
merrily. I was a little flustrated by his merry mood, and a strange
weakness kept me from firing. I thought I would let him plow one more
round. How I chuckled to myself as he walked deliberately away from me
as if nothing was about to go wrong with him. He came around again as
merrily as before. I once more raised old “Kill-devil” to my face and
was in the act of pulling the trigger, when I heard a stick crack in
the woods just as he was turning. This and some other imaginary noises
caused me to delay until he was too far off to make a sure shot. Here
was a good chance lost. This I thought would never do, for I was now
becoming quite nervous; I bit my fingers as I usually do to stop what
hunters call the “buck ague,” but it seemed to do me no good.
The more I thought of the matter, the more nervous I got, and I must
acknowledge that I never felt that way before when I was in a just
cause, and a thought struck me that there might be something wrong
in this matter after all. I knew that it would never do to remain
squatting in the fence corner any longer; that I must either shoot or
leave.
Can it be possible that he is innocent of the charge brought against
him by my friends, and that my suspicions are groundless?
It may be so! I began to think about letting the man live; but the
thought of riding several hundred miles for the express purpose of
killing a man, and then to go back without doing it, after having had
such a good chance, was a thought that I did not like.
While these thoughts were revolving in my mind I still set as quietly
as a mouse. Once I would have got up and left, but the man was now
making his third round, and was too close for me to do so without being
seen. I deliberately raised my gun and took a bead on him to make my
decision while he was completely in my power—“live on, sir! live on!”
was my decision, and as soon as he turned I hastily left for fear of
being tempted again. I mounted my horse, and as soon as I thought he
was out of sight among the corn I rode away, and never before in my
life did I feel so happy as I did when I passed opposite the row he was
in. I bade him a silent farewell, and mentally told him to rest easy,
for that he never should be hurt by my hand.
On my homeward trip I stopped in the vicinity of Bloomfield (which was
still in the hands of the Federals) in order to pay my respects to
Captain Hicks. He was the commander of the company which followed me
and my family to the St. Francis river; and boasted that he was the
man who shot me at the Flat Woods. Not being disposed to rob him of
his honors, I was willing to admit that he did the act, and to govern
myself accordingly.
I lay around his residence four days and nights, getting my provisions
out of his smoke-house, before he made his appearance.
On the evening of the fourth day he rode up to his house, and in a few
minutes walked out with his wife into the garden.
I walked up to the garden fence and spoke to him; he seemed agitated
and started toward the house; I raised my gun, halted him, and told him
to come to me as I wanted to talk a little to him. He halted and with
some reluctance walked toward me, and on getting within a few paces
he asked me who I was. I told him that I was Sam Hildebrand; that I
understood he had been hunting for me for some time, and I thought I
would come by and see what he wanted. At this he made a lick at me with
a hoe which he held in his hand, and came very near hitting me; but in
a moment I ended his existence by shooting him. I eluded all search and
effected my escape to Arkansas.
CHAPTER XX.
Trip to Hamburg with fifteen men.—Hung a Dutchman and shot
another.—Attacked some Federals in Hamburg, but got gloriously
whipped.—Retreated to Coon Island.—Return to St. Francis
river.—Killed Oller at Flat Woods.—Robbed Bean‘s store at
Irondale.
About the middle of August, 1863, at the solicitation of two brave boys
who had kindly assisted me on several trips to St. Francois county, and
expected my assistance in return, I started to a small place called
Hamburg, with fifteen men under my command.
We wished to take in three or four Dutchmen who had given the relatives
of my two men a great deal of trouble, causing them to be robbed, and
in some instances imprisoned.
We crossed into Butler county, and then into Stoddard; passing south
and east of Bloomfield, we crossed Little river above Buffington, and
entered Scott county. By traveling altogether in the night we created
no disturbance until we got near the point to which we were aiming.
About ten o‘clock in the forenoon we rode up and surrounded the house
of one of the men whom we were after. He recognized us as Union
soldiers and came out without being called. He commenced addressing us
in Dutch, but I told him that we did not belong to that persuasion; he
then began speaking broken English and still advanced toward us. When
in the act of extending his hand toward one of my men who was nearest
to him, he suddenly discovered his unfortunate mistake, and called to
his wife who was yet in the house. The whole family came out, placed
themselves in a group near us and implored us in broken English to
spare their father. To the bottom of my heart I cursed the man who
first invented war; but as war on one side and mercy on the other would
only lead to death, we marched our Dutchman off about a mile and hung
him to a leaning tree. About one hour afterwards we came to the house
of another of those cunning informers; he broke out at a back door and
ran so fast that we all had to fire before we brought him down.
We now pushed on to get a couple more who lived at Hamburg, but on
entering the place we were met by a volley of musket shots which made
our ears ring. One of my men was killed on the spot, at which we
charged the enemy, seeing that their numbers were only about twelve.
They took refuge behind an old dilapidated frame house; and while
I placed some of my men in positions to command both ends of the
building, others marched up to the front of the house and set it on
fire.
By this time the shooting had attracted the attention of other Federals
in the vicinity, who came to the rescue, and before we were aware of
their presence we were nearly surrounded. We made a dash to clear their
lines, and in the attempt four of my men were badly wounded, but none
of them killed.
I began to think that I had met with more than our match, for as we
retreated they followed us in a solid phalanx. Our horses were put to
the utmost of their speed, our wounded were left behind, the chase
after us was gloriously exciting; we probably gained a little after we
had gone about two miles, but they did not by any means give up the
chase, for we were not allowed to enjoy anything that had the least
resemblance to peace and tranquility, until we had gained Little river
and swam across to Coon Island. We lost nearly everything we had except
our horses and they were badly injured; some of my men lost their guns,
and others lost every bit of fight that they formerly had in them.
The Federals made no attempt to cross the river, but left us to brood
over the sad result of our rash and inconsiderate adventure. The whole
matter looked to me a great deal like a defeat, and I must confess that
I viewed it rather in that light; but if it had been the Army of the
Potomac they would have called it “a strategic movement—merely a change
of base.”
We lost one man killed and four wounded, prisoners whom we supposed
would be shot. In justice to General Steele, however, I can proudly say
that in this case he did us more than justice by retaining our men as
prisoners of war and treating them well. Their wounds were healed, and
in three months they were exchanged and returned to our Green County
Confederacy.
On leaving Coon Island we struck the St. Francis river at Twelve
Mile creek, and remained there several days recruiting our horses.
Not wishing to be idle, I concluded that while my men and horses were
resting, I would take a trip on foot to Flat Woods and pay my respects
to George F. Oller, who was so intent on bushwhacking me that he
spent most of his time in the woods watching for my appearance on my
accustomed routes.
Aside from his many boisterous threats against me he was in the habit
of marking out “Old Sam,” as he called me, on trees and shooting
at the figure at various distances. His vindictive spirit was not
manifested against me alone, but even against the children of Southern
sympathizers. At one time he went to St. Francis river where some
Southern boys were in the habit of bathing, and at the high rock from
which they were fond of plunging, he drove some cedar stakes and
sharpened the upper ends which were just under the water.
Fortunately when the boys next went there to bathe the water had fallen
a few inches, and the ends of the stakes exposed so that the boys
discovered them before making the fatal leap. Oller of course did all
this for the patriotic motive of subjugating the South; but the result
was that the little boys were saved and the country lost.
On arriving in the neighborhood I learned from a very kind German lady
whom I happened to meet and who mistook me for a Federal, that the hunt
for me was still going on.
I learned also that Oller‘s zeal for the good of the Union cause was
not in the least abated by his many failures to hit my figure which he
had cut on a large oak near his house, nor by his failure to kill the
innocent children whom he was afraid would be Rebels at some future
time.
At night I went and inspected his premises, and before daylight I took
my position; but the day passed off and he did not make his appearance.
When night came I repaired to the house of a friend, obtained two days‘
rations, returned to my ambush, and slept until the first peep of day.
I was again doomed to disappointment; but on the third day, late in
the evening, as I lay brooding over the many failures I had made to
inflict justice upon those who were seeking my blood, Mr. Oller made
his appearance.
He walked slowly up to the premises with his gun on his shoulders. On
getting to a pig pen he got over the fence and commenced marking a pig.
I shot him through and hastily left the place; on gaining the top of a
small hill a few hundred yards off, I heard the pig squealing, for Mr.
Oller had fallen across it, and it was not able to extricate itself
from the trap.
On getting back to my men I selected five of them to go with me, and
permitted the rest to return to Arkansas.
As soon as it was dark I started with my five men for Irondale, on the
St. Louis and Iron Mountain railroad.
Just after dark on one evening in the early part of September, we
entered the town. We saw no soldiers in the streets, and no one else,
except Dr. Poston, a citizen of the place. We compelled him to knock at
the door of Bean‘s store and ask for admittance; when this was done we
entered without any trouble, took all the goods we could conveniently
pack, and returned to Arkansas by the way of Black river.
CHAPTER XXI.
Started with six men for Springfield, Missouri.—Deceived by a
Federal Spy.—Was captured through mistake by Rebels.—Surprised
on Panther creek.—Returned home on foot.
I was under obligations to assist some of my boys in a trip to the
neighborhood from which they had been driven, in return for their
services on several of my trips.
About the middle of September, after having only rested about a week,
I started with six men from near Springfield, Missouri, to make a raid
in the vicinity of that city. Not being acquainted with the country
over which we designed traveling, I had but little to say in regard to
the programme of our intended raid. After our plans were arranged, we
started, taking with us “neither purse nor scrip,” for we intended to
rely altogether on our good fortune for our supplies.
From Green county, Ark., we traveled through Randolph and entered
Missouri in Ripley county. Here we were detained, for one of my men had
the misfortune to lose his horse. Having reached a part of the country
known as the Irish Wilderness, we concluded to rest a day and hunt.
In the evening before we struck camp, a young man, dressed in citizen‘s
clothes, who claimed to be going to the Rebel army, joined us, and
asked permission to stop with us until morning. He professed to be
going to Arkansas, and we readily consented to entertain him as best we
could.
After the confusion incident to striking camp, making fires, attending
to our horses, etc., was over, our new companion began a series of
interrogatories relative to the part of country through which we had
operated, since the beginning of the war. After having posted him
thoroughly in regard to the field of our operations, we related to
him many thrilling incidents and daring adventures connected with
our history; to all of which he listened with intense interest, and
at the amusing parts of our story he laughed most heartily. After we
grew tired of relating our many dangerous feats and bloody deeds, he
began his narrative of hair breadth escapes and heroic adventures. The
field of his operations having been Kentucky, we were very pleasantly
entertained by receiving the full accounts of several incidents of
which we had heard some rumors.
We had scarcely marked the transition from twilight to Egyptian
darkness, so much were we pleased with our new companion‘s pleasant
stories, when one of my men remarked that “the last hour of the day
was melting away into the eventful past.” Our programme for the day
following had been made by our new comrade, and heartily approved by
us all, that we would take an old fashioned deer hunt, among the wild
hills surrounding us.
Our quiet slumbers were scarcely disturbed even by the intermission of
rolling over, until “Old Sol” was looking us fair in the face, as if
to read the guilt of our hearts.
Upon awakening, one word loudly spoken, was sufficient to bring the
whole squad to a half recumbent position; and as we went through the
antiquated performance of rubbing our eyes, the attention of each one
seemed to be turned to the spot where our new comrade had deposited
himself for a sleep a few hours before. He was gone! The fragment of an
old log, that had served him as a pillow, was all that was left of him
or his bed. But this was not all;—one of our best horses was gone! We
cared but little for the horse, so far as his real value was concerned,
for we had some experience in “raising horses,” and knew that we could
get another on very easy terms, but we did not like the idea of having
been gulled by a young adventurous loyalist, in the face of the fact,
too, that we considered ourselves “shark proof.”
Neither were we certain that our misfortunes would end here, for our
“sharper” had succeeded in getting our plans for the entire trip.
During the preparation of our morning meal, the subject of our
misfortune was freely discussed, with many conjectures in regard to who
our deceiver was, and the probable result of his acquired information.
A majority of the men were in favor of continuing our journey, while
only one man joined me in opposing any further movement in the
direction of Springfield.
However, as it was not my own trip, I did not feel at liberty to say
much about it; not wishing to appear obstinate, I contented myself with
making them a “humbug” speech, for I must confess that the recollection
of our unfortunate adventure at that place, seemed as though it
would haunt me to the grave. All my arguments, however, did no good,
they would not be convinced against their own will; so I submitted
cheerfully to the good old democratic rule of going with the majority.
During the day, myself and two others, rode over to the edge of the
settlements to get a horse for our pedestrian “bushwhacker,” and
succeeded in finding one; but the owner was a noted Rebel; our only way
to sustain ourselves in the act was to pass ourselves off for Union
soldiers, this we did with a very good grace and got the horse without
any resistance. In fact, he made but little objection, for he knew that
the “Union savers” were terrible when irritated.
After going back two or three miles toward our camp in the Wilderness,
I saw some deer on the side of an adjoining hill, and fearing that the
boys in camp had failed to kill meat for our supper, selected a nice
buck and shot him dead on the spot.
After having dressed the meat preparatory to carrying it into camp, we
concluded to build a fire and broil some of it for our dinner. While
we were thus busily engaged, all squatted around the fire, we were
suddenly saluted by a remarkably boisterous mandate of “surrender!” at
which we sprang to our feet with our revolvers in our hands to find
ourselves confronted by five of Capt. Bolin‘s men, who had left Green
county, Arkansas, a few days before us, and were on a visit to see some
friends in the neighborhood, from one of whom we had taken the horse.
We had anything else rather than a fight, for we quickly recognized
each other, and a general congratulation was the only military
demonstration between us.
The five “bushwhackers” were concealed near the house of the old Rebel
from whom we had taken the horse, and who had really regarded us as
Federals. As soon as we had left his house, he reported us to Capt.
Bolin‘s men, who took our trail and tracked us to the wild solitudes
of the Irish Wilderness. We at once decided on changing our quarters.
I sent my two comrades to the camp and had the boys to move over to
the edge of the settlements. The old Rebel, from whom we had taken the
horse, was our best friend; we gave it back to him, and got another in
that neighborhood on the following night.
The reader, without making any very extravagant draw upon his
imagination, can conclude that we had a jolly time when we all got
together.
Our adventure with the sharper, my attempt to steal the old Rebel‘s
horse, and our unconditional surrender in the Wilderness while broiling
the venison, were the subjects discussed. From the boys, we learned
something more of our adventurous Yankee detective. He had been in that
neighborhood a week or two, repeating the same story that he had told
us. He evidently thought that the bushwhackers were rather thick in
that neighborhood, and concluded to leave it as quick as possible.
On the following morning, our whole party, with myself, took up our
march for Springfield, and in the evening of the same day we reached
the vicinity of Thomasville, in Oregon county. We were warned against
traveling in the day time, unless we were hunting for a fight; we
assured our friends that a fight was the least of our desire at the
present time, the object of our trip being solely for the purpose of
enabling some of our boys to avenge certain wrongs received at the
hands of Union men in Greene county, Missouri.
After making a tolerable heavy draw on some of our Rebel friends for
provisions and horse-feed, we again resumed our journey, and the
following morning found us in the woods, quartered for the day, near a
small town in Howell county, called Lost Camp, where we remained all
day.
A substantial old friend living near by, brought us two or three
bottles of “burst-head,” which produced the effect of making some of
the boys believe that they had fought a great battle, and that the
United States Government had taken refuge in a deep cavern, the mouth
of which they had stopped with a large flat rock, on top of which the
boys were dancing. The only question with them seemed to be what they
would do with their twenty millions of prisoners.
When sable night again clad the wicked world in half mourning, we
resumed our journey, and on approach of day, we were in the beautiful
little town of Vera Cruz, in Douglas county; on the next night we
reached Panther creek, in Webster county. One of our men who professed
to be acquainted in that neighborhood, went to a pretended Rebel
friend to get supplies, but the old fellow flatly refused to give him
anything. I was a little amused at the disappointment of the boys, and
at the dilemma in which they were placed. I could not help thinking how
different I would have acted on a raid of my own.
About ten o‘clock in the forenoon we were surprised by a party of
Federal soldiers, numbering perhaps about sixty men. Before we were
aware of their presence they charged upon us at a most furious rate,
yelling and shooting at us most fearfully. A mere glance at the party
was sufficient to convince me that an attempt at resistance would be
worse than folly. I sprang to my feet, yelled out to the boys to run;
but having no time to mount our horses, we had to depend upon our own
fleetness for our escape. In our retreat through the dense forest,
we had the advantage over our enemies; I and four others managed to
keep together for about a mile; not seeing any pursuers, we took our
position on a high hill, and remained there until late in the evening.
While keeping a vigilant watch over the surrounding country, we
discovered one of our men emerging cautiously from a dense thicket in
the valley at the foot of the hill.
He seemed terribly frightened. I made my way down the hill to within a
hundred yards of him, and then called him by name; but it was some time
before he recognized me. Fortunately for us, this man was acquainted
with the country through which we would have to pass in making our way
back to Arkansas. The tops of the highest hills were yet basking in
the sun‘s last lingering rays, when we started on our perilous journey
of two hundred miles on foot, without any blankets, provisions, or
anything else, except our pistols and one gun, for I had made my escape
with old “Kill-devil” in my hand. The next morning about daylight, we
ran into a gang of sheep, succeeded in catching one, and made our way
down into a deep ravine, where we could not be discovered. There we
built a fire and fared sumptuously. We continued on during the night,
and the next day I killed a deer. On the following night we reached our
friend near Vera Cruz, and here we met another one of our boys, but he
was no better posted in regard to the fate of our company than myself.
I will not weary the patience of my reader by detailing the many
privations incident to our trip; suffice it to say that we did get
back to Arkansas; and that fortunately for me I never received an
invitation to take another trip to Springfield under the command of an
unexperienced leather-head.
About a week after arriving in camp, another one of the boys came in,
looking somewhat subjugated. I afterwards learned that two of our
men were killed when we were routed, and that the others were taken
prisoners, none of whom ever returned during the war.
I have cautioned the boys never again to imagine themselves dancing on
the flat rock covering the prison door of the defunct Yankee nation,
lest they might unexpectedly find some of them yet running at large.
CHAPTER XXII.
Started with four men.—Surrounded in a thicket near
Fredericktown.—Escaped with the loss of three horses.—Stole
horses from the Federals at night.—Killed two Federal
Soldiers.—Suffered from hunger.—Killed Fowler.—Got a horse from
G. W. Murphy.—Went to Mingo Swamp.—Killed Coots for betraying
him.—Killed a soldier and lost two men.
I selected four good men and started on another trip to St. Francois
county, Missouri, on the 10th of November. We traveled altogether in
the night; arriving in the vicinity of Fredericktown about midnight, we
stopped at the house of a well-known friend, who expressed a great deal
of surprise at seeing us there, stating that the cry of “Hildebrand,”
had been raised in the community about ten days previous, and that the
Federals, with the assistance of citizens, had been scouting the woods
between that place and Farmington ever since. He was no little amused
when we told him that the report was utterly false, and that we were on
a scout out westward at the time.
The report of my having been in that part of the country ten days
previous, I was satisfied would work favorably to the success of our
present enterprise, for it was not probable that they would make
another search so soon after having made one so thoroughly.
From there we went to a dense thicket near the residence of Mr. North,
and being very tired and sleepy, we lay down, and slept very soundly
until the morning sun was looking down upon our quiet retreat. Our old
friend had supplied us with two days‘ rations and some shelled corn for
our horses, so we had a complete outfit for a good rest.
Whilst lying lazily around our horses, planning the future of our trip,
we were suddenly startled by the sound of a gun near by, which was
evidently discharged at one of us. A moment, however, was sufficient to
satisfy me in regard to the nature of the case; we had been spied out,
our horses tracked up, and our thicket surrounded. At a bound I lit
in my saddle and was soon out of the thicket in an opposite direction
from where the gun was fired. On reaching the open ground, I discovered
the Federals coming around the woods, not having yet completed their
circle. They fired on me, but the distance was too great, and I
remained unhurt. My men had not taken time to mount their horses, but
as they followed me on foot, one of them received a bruise on his back
from a spent ball. In a few minutes our complete escape was effected,
with no damage but the loss of four good horses. The Federals followed
us closely for about a mile, when we got far enough ahead to give
them the dodge by turning at right angles into the St. Francis river
bottom. We made our way back to within a mile of Fredericktown, where
we remained the rest of the day. When night came we went in quest of
our pursuers; we found them camped in a lane about six miles northwest
from Fredericktown.
Our object now was to get horses. We made our way on foot toward them,
but found that the end of the lane was guarded; we went around to the
other end and found it guarded also, while the horses were in the
middle, tied to one of the fences. We then went around through the
field, laying down the outside fence very carefully, and approached
the lane fence on the opposite side from where the horses were tied.
The night was very dark, but we could distinctly see a sentinel slowly
walking his beat of about fifty yards, ourselves being at the end of
the beat. When his back was turned, I laid the fence down easily; we
sprang to a horse a piece, cut the halters, mounted, and were off at
full speed before he turned on the other end of his beat.
Our hasty flight of course raised an alarm in the camp, but we saw no
more of the Federals that night. Being again mounted, we resolved to
give them employment for a few days in hunting us, and for that purpose
we took up our quarters in a place least expected, by going within a
mile of Fredericktown onto a certain eminence, after having made a
circuit around the side of a hill.
On the following day we slept by turns; I killed a pig with my knife
near the house of a farmer, and cooked it in a deep ravine where
the fire could not be observed; during the previous night we had
stolen a sufficiency of feed for our horses. I concluded to go into
Fredericktown to get a supply of ammunition, which I did about
ten o‘clock in the night, by meeting with an old friend there who
bountifully supplied us with all we needed.
We moved seven or eight miles in the direction of Pilot Knob, supplying
ourselves with horse-feed and provisions on the move.
When morning again made its appearance, I left my men in charge of
the horses, and after instructing them where to meet me again in case
of trouble, I went to the gravel road for the purpose of killing a
Federal or two. I concealed myself near the road, and about 10 o‘clock
in the day, two came along and I let old “Kill-devil” off at one of
them. They wheeled suddenly around and started back in the direction
of Pilot Knob; the one I shot was badly wounded and bled freely. Only
an hour afterwards a squad of perhaps ten came from the direction of
Fredericktown. It was a quandary in my mind whether it was best to take
a pop at them or not, a feeling of revenge settled the matter. I fired,
and one fell; at this they put their horses to full speed. Soon after
they were out of sight, another came along in a very great hurry as if
he was endeavoring to overtake the others; on coming up to the dead
man he made a momentary halt, of which I took advantage and shot him
through. I now concluded that I had done enough for the day, or enough,
at least, to raise an excitement, so I went back to my men and we moved
about twelve miles in the direction of Farmington, and near the St.
Francis river on a high bluff, which afforded us peculiar advantages
in the event of a fight, where we were compelled to remain several days.
My comrade, who had received a bruise on the spine, had by this time
become so disabled by that slight injury, that he could not ride. The
little amusement that I had taken on the gravel road was now creating
quite a stir in military circles, and their search for us was carried
on with a zeal worthy of a better cause.
Having called out the forces at Pilot Knob, Fredericktown and
Farmington, with a large majority of the citizens, the search was made
thoroughly and in earnest. Squads frequently passed in sight of us,
and within easy gun-shot, but none of them ascended the high bluff we
occupied. On the evening of the third day our provisions and horse-feed
gave out, and each night I went out in search of more. Obtaining
provender for our horses was a very easy matter, but getting provisions
for ourselves was not only very difficult but extremely dangerous. I
knew but few men in the neighborhood, and on approaching their houses
I invariably found our well-known signal of danger—a towel hung on
a nail outside of the door. We could easily have killed a hog or a
sheep, but we could not run the risk of making a fire to cook it. After
our provisions gave entirely out, we were twenty-four hours without
any food. During the second night I found some bacon in somebody‘s
smoke-house, I knew not whether he was a friend or foe, and cared still
less, but I took two hams to camp, which we ate raw.
On the sixth night our comrade was able to ride, and we moved about
fifteen miles, stopping south of Fredericktown. Here a friend supplied
us with the necessaries of life, and even brought food to our camp
ready cooked for our use.
Our wounded companion, who was too much disabled to take any part in a
raid, now obtained leave to return to Arkansas alone, while I and my
other men started on a trip to St. Francois county.
While living at Flat Woods, I became acquainted with a man named John
Fowler. He professed to be a strong Southern man, and having perfect
confidence in his veracity, I entrusted him with many things in regard
to my plans, that I withheld from the rest of my neighbors; but about
the time that I was run off from there by the Federals, my friend
Fowler joined the Union army.
On receiving this intelligence, I felt much mortified, and concluded
at once that he had betrayed me, notwithstanding he sent me word on
several occasions that I need not fear him. His duplicity, however, was
so apparent that I determined to kill him on sight; this I had some
hope of doing, as he seemed to enjoy some liberties, and often came
into the neighborhood, but generally in company with other soldiers. On
every visit he came to my house and conversed pleasantly with my wife,
but I regarded him rather as a spy.
As we were traveling along on the present occasion, I run suddenly on
him about five miles southwest from Fredericktown. We met in a narrow
path, and before he hardly had time to recognize me, I shot and killed
him instantly.
I will here state that I had cause to regret this act afterwards, for I
ascertained that he had deserted the Federals, and was on his way South
to join the “bushwhacking department” of the Southern army.
After passing Fredericktown in the night, we learned that several
companies of Federals, Home Guards and Militia, were hunting for me
in every direction. In fact, we came near being discovered by several
squads during the night. We hastened on into St. Francois county; Tom
Haile and myself being in front, we took Farmington without firing a
gun long before my other men came up. As we rode in the streets were
full of people, but we only had time to take a second look when the
place seemed to be entirely deserted. Not a man, woman or child could
be found, at which Tom laughed heartily, and remarked that he thought
cellar rent ought to be very high in that place. When my other men
came up Tom told them that we had found a beautiful town not claimed
by anybody, “just laying around loose,” and that he was very sorry we
could not take it along with us until we found an owner. We did not
haunt the town very long with our unholy presence, but after going into
a grocery, where we had to help ourselves, we took a hearty drink of
some good old liquor that had been left by the generation that once
lived there; then mounting our horses we left the lonesome place.
Tom remarked that as we had no wounded man to leave there to garrison
the town we had better leave for the “settlements.” We went on to Big
river to look after our old enemies; but their consciousness of having
committed such a catalogue of crimes against me made them the hardest
men in the world to find.
In our business of killing enemies, we met with good success everywhere
but on Big river. Up to the time of the present writing, a majority of
those miscreants, with hands dripping with the blood of my brothers,
are yet permitted to live. For several days and nights we watched
around the houses of my old enemies, but to no purpose; it was
impossible to find them. One of my men made his way around through the
neighborhood to ascertain their whereabouts, and reported that they
were all from home except Franklin Murphy; but Tom Haile was determined
that I should not kill him. He exacted a promise from me long ago that
I never would molest him or any of his property. Haile was a man who
wielded an influence over every one with whom he came in contact. He
was ever in a perfect good humor; the clouds of adversity never seemed
to throw a shadow on his brow; his heart was all sunshine, and his feet
ever trod in the vales of mirth and gladness.
I plainly saw that so far as killing my old enemies was concerned my
present trip was a failure. During all the incidents of my previous
trips to Missouri, I never for once lost sight of that one leading
object of my mind. The killing of Federals, in which I had taken such
an active part, only afforded me pleasure by the reflection that they
were a part and parcel of the same stripe, and in sympathy with the Big
river vigilance mob.
I was now much in need of a good horse, and after talking the matter
over with my men, Tom Haile and myself concluded to demand a good
horse, bridle and saddle, from G. W. Murphy, a man whose nature it was
to be quiet and inoffensive, and who had attended strictly to his own
business during all the struggle.
He was abundantly able to assist us in the matter, and we considered
that he ought to contribute that much toward the Southern cause. We
were raised close together from boyhood, and I had nothing against him;
but as he was well able to spare me a horse, I made the demand. He
complied with the request after emerging (as I believe) from a barrel
of feathers. His novel appearance caused Tom Haile, who was always fond
of a joke, to tell him that he must not let Jim Craig see him in that
condition, or he might capture him for a spotted mule, which Murphy, in
his good humored way, passed off very well. We also took a horse from
Orville McIlvaine, who lived on the place known as the Baker farm. I
had some anxiety to see him in order to make him break his well-known
rule of never parting with a greenback after it got into his safe; but
his retiring nature prompted him to conceal himself in the garret until
we departed. We now rejoined the other boys and started back by the
way of Mingo Swamp. Before we reached that place we were warned by our
friends that the Federals were thick in that locality. About midnight
we arrived at the house of William Coots (well-known as old Bill
Coots,) who had heretofore invariably represented himself as a Rebel
of unusual bitterness. In answer to our inquiries, he told us that
there were no Federals in the neighborhood, neither had there been any
for more than a month. He also told us that the men we wished to find
were then at home. I felt very much gratified on hearing statements so
favorable to the success of our enterprise, and requested him to supply
us with a few days‘ rations and provender for our horses, while we
camped at a certain point not more than half a mile distant.
He readily consented, and gave us a very pressing invitation to come
and take breakfast with him about sun up. To this we agreed, and at
the time designated, we all left our camp and repaired to the house of
our generous host, who received us with a great deal of what might be
termed “Arkansas courtesy.” It may be readily supposed that the scanty
fattening process we had gone through while on the St. Francis bluff
had produced a streak of lean running the whole length of our mortal
bodies; and that the odor from the kitchen, of coffee, ham and eggs,
with other ingredients intermixed with spices, made us for a time
forget all other things on these mundane shores. When breakfast was
announced and we were about to seat ourselves at the table, old Coots
remarked: “Here, gentlemen, you can lay your arms on the bed,” but
it was not our custom to take off our arms at any time, so we seated
ourselves at the table with them on. We were perhaps about half done
eating when a ragged looking Federal stepped up to the door, and in an
exulting tone said: “Well, Coots! you got them, did you?” and bawled
out “surrender,” at which I sprang from the table, drew my revolver and
shot Coots, seized my gun which I had left near the door, and cleared
the door by about fifteen feet; I shot a Federal with my revolver which
I still held in my right hand, and in a few bounds gained the woods
unhurt, save a slight wound on the back of my head. My men attempted
to follow without their guns, two of them were killed in their attempt
to escape, while the remaining one (Tom Haile,) soon got with me, and
we made our way to our horses. Fortunately the Federals had not found
them. We tarried awhile for our comrades, but as they did not come up
we were fearful that they were slain. Mounting our horses and leading
theirs, we made our way to a canebrake about a mile off, and sent a
citizen back to ascertain the real state of affairs. After taking an
old bridle in his hand, he made his way over, inquiring of each person
he met for a grey mare and a black colt.
On passing the house of old Bill Coots he was halted, at which he did
not seem to be the least alarmed, but expressed the utmost surprise
when the whole tragedy was related to him. The worst part of the
whole affair was that two of my men were killed and were lying at the
time in front of the house. On receiving this news we started home to
get a force sufficient to clean out the Federals, but on arriving in
Green county, Arkansas, nearly all of our men were out on scouting
excursions, principally toward the West.
[Illustration: BETRAYED BY COOTS.]
CHAPTER XXIII.
Took ten men.—Went to Mingo Swamp.—Went to Castor
Creek.—Medicine traffic.—Attacked two companies of Federals
under Capt. Cawhorn and Capt. Rhoder.—Fought them seven
nights.—Dick Cowan.—Went with Capt. Reed‘s men.—Attacked Capt.
Leeper‘s Company.—Killed fourteen and wounded eight.—Captured
forty-four guns, sixty pistols, forty horses and four hundred
dollars.
On the 15th day of December, 1863, I started back to Mingo Swamp with
ten men, and met with no obstacles on our route after swimming the St.
Francis river. When we got into the neighborhood of the unfortunate
tragedy of our previous trip, we ascertained from reliable sources that
the Federals left for Bloomfield on the day following the skirmish at
old Bill Coots‘, and that the men we had been looking after so long had
gone into the regular army.
We visited the house of our newly made widow, Mrs. Coots, for the
purpose of seeing the graves of my two brave boys. She confessed that
Coots had layed plans for my capture; that the Federals were camped
only one mile off at the time, and that after I had consented to come
to his house for breakfast, he went to the Federal camp and notified
them of the fact, and made arrangements to take me in. Finding no one
in that vicinity to fight, we made our way over onto Castor creek to
a well known friend, who had, since the beginning of the war, acted as
an agent for us in receiving and forwarding supplies and medicines.
Hearing of no Federals in that portion of the country, and there being
no persons in that quarter against whom we had enmity sufficient to
induce us to invest any of our capital in bark or grape vines, we
obtained the medicine sent to that place from Farmington, St. Francois
county, Missouri, and started back for Mingo Swamp. On our way the
monotony of our journey was suddenly relieved by seeing a Federal
coming toward us, apparently riding very cautiously. We only got a
glimpse of him as the road took him down into a small ravine out of our
sight. We were very certain that he had not discovered us, so we got
out of the road until he came up; when we halted him he seemed very
much frightened, but surrendered quietly.
He told us that he had been to Cairo, Illinois, to see his family, and
was on his way back to his command at Fredericktown. Upon the whole he
gave such a good account of himself that we only disarmed him and took
his greenbacks, which, however, only amounted to twelve dollars.
On the following night we heard of three more Rebel boys in the country
and sent for them. After they agreed to try a trip with us, we left the
drugs with a friend and went back onto Castor creek to watch for the
Federals who were in the habit of passing there on their road between
Fredericktown and Cape Girardeau. We had been there but one night and
day when we heard of two companies of Federals nearby commanded by
Captains Cawhorn and Rhoder. As soon as it was dark we proceeded to spy
out their exact locality and take a look at the surroundings. We found
from their position and numbers that it would be entirely unsafe to
charge through their camp as was our custom, and concluded to bushwhack
them. During the night we killed twelve and wounded several more, as
we were informed afterwards. When day again made its appearance we
went about two miles into a dense thicket with our horses. We put out
spies watching and waiting impatiently for them to move. Instead of
marching, however, they were charging around the most public places in
the vicinity, threatening Southern sympathizers with annihilation, but
we got no chance to bushwhack them.
During the day a squad of them went to the residence of Dick Cowan,
one of my men, burned his house and other buildings, and attempted an
outrage on one of his sisters who happened to be there. For several
days the people in the neighborhood were compelled to suffer the most
glaring insults and wrongs. Each night we renewed the attack, and
killed one occasionally at all hours of the night. They stood our mode
of warfare six days and nights, but early on the morning of the seventh
day they started on their way to Cape Girardeau. During their march we
stationed ourselves at convenient places, and as they came along poured
a deadly fire into their ranks and then retreated into the woods. We
thought by this means to induce them to follow us, but it only seemed
to hurry up their march. This we repeated three times before they
reached Cape Girardeau.
By this time we were anxious to see our families and started back to
Arkansas. Taking our drugs that had been left with a friend, we soon
met twenty-eight of Capt. Reed‘s men who insisted on our taking a trip
with them to Wayne county, and perhaps as far north as Iron county.
To this I consented, detailing two of my men to take the drugs to
Arkansas, we started on our way, marching in day time. We passed about
twenty miles south of Bloomfield and on to Greenville, in Wayne county,
arriving there about sunset, but did not find any Federal troops in the
place to protect its loyalty. Soon after arriving in town we heard of
a company of Federals on Lost creek under Capt. Leeper, and taking our
informant for a guide we marched at once to give them a fight.
Reaching there about sunrise the next morning we charged their camp,
running their pickets in at full speed, fought them only a few minutes,
when those who had not got into the brush surrendered. In the fight
we lost four men killed and six wounded, the latter, however, all
recovered. Of the enemy we killed fifteen, wounded eight, and took ten
prisoners beside the wounded. Our booty consisted of forty-four guns,
sixty pistols, forty horses, four hundred dollars in greenbacks, and
other articles of value to us and to our families.
The subject of what disposition we would make of the prisoners came up,
and in cases of the kind we were purely democratic, so we took the vote
whether we would kill them or set them loose.
In consideration of the wrongs my family had received at their hands,
and of their well-known cruelty, I made a speech in favor of killing
them and voted accordingly.
When the whole vote was counted I found myself in the minority by just
two votes; but true to my word I released them, unarmed and on foot.
In the evening before we had attacked them they had killed an old man
by the name of Tom McKee and burned his house with other buildings.
This fresh outrage was not known to us until they were gone, or we
undoubtedly would have shot them. On being informed of this fact,
however, we sent a scout after them, but they had left the main road
and secreted themselves in the thick woods. The wounded, however, were
at our disposal, but we did not, during the whole war get mean enough
to imitate our enemies by killing wounded prisoners, but placed them at
the house of a widow woman who promised to take care of them until the
Federals at Pilot Knob could have them removed.
We procured a wagon and loaded it with our booty; took our six wounded
men and started back to Green county, Arkansas, where we arrived
without any difficulty, and found all things right at headquarters.
CHAPTER XXIV.
Took fifteen men. Captured three Federals. Hung one. Captured
a squad of Federals. Reception of “Uncle Bill.” Hung all the
prisoners. Captured five more, and hung one.
After spending the winter very agreeably, on the 10th day of March,
1864, I concluded to make a raid to the vicinity of Jackson, Cape
Girardeau county, Missouri, with fifteen men, several of whom were from
that county, and knew the people and country well.
It was to remunerate these men for the invaluable services they had
rendered me on several of my trips that I consented to go with them.
We passed through Butler county into Stoddard, leaving Bloomfield to
the south a few miles, crossed the southeast corner of Bollinger and
into Cape Girardeau.
Having traveled very slowly, and altogether in the night, we had
created no disturbance on our way, nor interfered with any one, for it
was our custom to make no demonstrations until we were ready to return.
In the latter part of the night we arrived in the vicinity of Jackson,
selected a good place and camped for the day, during which time some
of the boys visited their friends. One of my men who was an entire
stranger in that part of the country, went into the town to get
whisky, and to see what was going on.
On returning late in the evening he told me that there were three
Federals in town who seemed to be well acquainted with the people, and
that they were behaving very well. He wanted to take some of the boys
and go back after them, to which I consented. They started off in eager
haste, but soon returned with the three prisoners, having met them in
the road some distance from town. Not knowing them I retained them
as prisoners until the boys came in who knew them. Being governed by
their statements, I released two of the Federals and kept the other as
a prisoner, and took him with us when we started that night for White
Water, but we did not take him far before we tied him to a limb.
On White Water we remained inactive several days, receiving the kindest
treatment from our Southern friends, which enabled some of my men to
visit their friends and relatives.
About sunset one evening a citizen came to us and stated that about an
hour before nine Federals had passed the road, and the probabilities
were that they would stop for the night at the first house.
The night was now growing very dark, and we were soon under full
pursuit of them. On nearing the house, however, we rode very slowly,
and tied our horses in the thicket at some distance, and approached the
premises very cautiously. It was a double hewed log house, with an open
hall between them, with a small cooking apartment forming an ell to
the main building, but separated from it by a narrow hall also.
After forming my men in a line around the house I crept to the windows
and peeped into both rooms, only one of which, however, was lighted,
and in it I could see no one except a very old lady, who might have
been a grandmother, and some little children who were grouped around
the old lady, and who seemed to be holding a very earnest conversation
with her in a very low tone. I went around to the kitchen window, and
upon looking in to my great joy I saw the Federals eating their supper.
The position I occupied was a very easy one, and their conversation was
so peculiarly interesting that I could not refrain from listening. They
were using very vulgar and indecent language to the lady, who, with all
the kindness and amiability characteristic of her sex, was waiting upon
the ruffians, while the old gentleman was seated on a box in a corner
of the room exposed to the most outrageous insults, accompanied with
threats of the most heinous character; but in silent fear the old man
bore their criminal epithets and bitter curses without returning a word.
By this time I had heard all that my weak humanity could bear. I
retreated from my position, passed around the circle, and collected my
men at the entrance to the kitchen into the open hall, this being their
only place of egress, and placed an equal number of my men on each
side. I now stepped into the door and demanded a surrender, at which
my men became impatient and rushed for the door, but I prevented them
from entering. Each of the Federals pushed back his chair, at which I
told them that I would shoot any man who should attempt to arise from
the table with his arms, admitting my men at the same time. At this the
Federals placed their revolvers on the table and retired according to
my command to the fartherest end of the room and formed in a line.
By this time our little disturbance had aroused the old grandmother
and the little children in the other house, who came to the scene, the
children screaming in a terrible manner, and clinging to the old lady‘s
dress for protection. On reaching the kitchen, however, the scene was
quite different from what they had expected. They halted a moment at
the door in dreadful suspense, then suddenly the oldest girl, who was
about eight years of age, sprang suddenly into the room, exclaiming
“Well, grandma! if here ain‘t Uncle Bill!” then seizing one of my men
by the hand she sobbed aloud, “Oh Uncle Bill! don‘t let the soldiers
kill pa!” at which the whole household greeted “Uncle Bill.” The old
gentleman last of all approached my man who had been recognized and
greeted with so many smiles and such marked distinction, giving his
hand slowly while the tears trickled down his weather-beaten cheek, and
only said: “Bill, I‘m glad to see you,” my comrade receiving his hand
and retaining it for perhaps half a minute, said nothing, but turned
and introduced me as Major Hildebrand to his relative, and to the
household. As I stepped forward to receive the salutation of the old
gentleman of whom I had heard so much, and knew so little, I heard one
of the prisoners remark, “a hell of a Major,” and upon casting my eyes
around I found them ready to burst into a derisive laughter, which I
must confess took me a little back.
At this I ordered one of the rooms forming the main building lighted,
and stationing my men properly, I marched my prisoners out of the
kitchen through the little hall into the room of the main building,
put a guard over them and pickets around the house, I returned to the
kitchen with my man now known as “Uncle Bill,” to have a talk with
the old gentleman while his wife was hastily preparing a nice little
supper for us all. The old man again took me by the hand, thanking me
for my coincidental visit, stated that the Federals had made several
trips into the neighborhood after him, but having been told of their
threats, he had always heretofore succeeded in eluding their search. He
also stated that the only charge they had against him was for feeding
bushwhackers, and that when the soldiers came up to his house on the
present occasion, just after dark, they were in the hall before he saw
them, and he had no possible way of escape except through them.
Considering his escape so very uncertain, he resolved to submit to his
fate, and that when we made our timely appearance he was a prisoner,
sentenced to be executed as soon as they were done supper. He wound
up his statement by saying: “Well, Major Hildebrand, I must confess I
am very agreeably disappointed in your general appearance; I have long
been anxious to see you, and am surprised that you never called on me
before, but if you had done so I should never have taken you for Sam
Hildebrand. I was led to believe, by hearing of your exploits, that
you certainly was a rough looking customer, a perfect “raw-head and
bloody-bones;” and that Beelzebub himself would have been daunted by
your ferocious appearance.”
Supper being announced eight men were left to guard the prisoners
while the others were eating, until all had partaken of the sumptuous
repast. We were now ready for business, we marched our prisoners out
to the fence in front of the house, tied their hands securely behind
them, placed them on their own horses and tied their feet together
underneath. Then mounting we started south, leading the horses on which
the prisoners rode. Having traveled very fast we reached a part of the
country as day began to approach in which we felt perfectly safe.
Leaving the road we went into a deep ravine about fifteen miles
northeast from Bloomfield, covered with thick undergrowth and sheltered
by heavy timber. Here we hung our prisoners. They were really brave
fellows, and submitted to their fate without a murmur, and during our
march that night they showed not the least sign of being conquered,
but said they were McNeal‘s men, and that when they went into the army
it was for the purpose of killing Rebels, and that some of the worst
Rebels they had killed were men who were staying at home, and the most
of them professing to be “loyal.”
After disposing of our prisoners, we secreted our horses in a dense
thicket, and ten of us took our stations on a road leading from Benton,
Scott county, Missouri, to watch for Federals. We remained here nearly
all day without seeing any, and were thinking about giving it up as a
bad job and returning to our camps; but when the sun was about an hour
high, in the evening, we discovered five Federals wending their way
slowly toward Bloomfield.
My men were divided into two parties, and were stationed about one
hundred yards apart. We allowed them to get nearly opposite the second
squad of which I was one, then we stepped suddenly into the road before
them and demanded a surrender, to which they submitted, but seemed
very much alarmed. On calling up my men who had been stationed farther
down the road, and who stood at this time behind the prisoners. They
seemed somewhat relieved as they recognized one of them as being an old
acquaintance, who extended his hand cordially to all of them but one,
remarking to him that he would not shake hands with him “until he met
him in h—ll.”
They now dismounted and surrendered up their arms and their horses. I
then marched them out of the road to a safe distance into the woods
and inquired of my man who had recognized them, concerning their
character. He reported that all of them were his acquaintances of long
standing; that four of them were very clever fellows, these I released
immediately; but the fifth one we hung after investigating his case.
When night came we mounted our horses, and taking our booty with us,
started back to Arkansas.
CHAPTER XXV.
Put in a crop.—Started to Missouri with nine men.—Killed a
soldier near Dallas.—Went to St. Francois county,—Watched for
Walls and Baker.—Watched near Big River Mills for McGahan.—Came
near shooting Mr. Sharp.—Robbed Burges, Hughes and Kelley of
their horses.—Robbed Abright‘s store.—Captured some Federals on
White Water.
As we all belonged to the “Independent Bushwhacking Department of the
Confederate States of America,” and were entirely dependent on our own
exertions for a livelihood, it was necessary now that we should put in
our crops.
For nearly two months Crowley‘s Ridge on which we lived, and the
adjacent country, looked as if it contained an industrious little
community of “honest farmers.”
The axe was heard in every direction; the smoke from burning brush was
curling up from a thousand fires, and at night the little boys and
girls were making bright fires until midnight, under the impression
hinted at by their fathers that it was “such fun.” All day long the
women were out in full force with their hoes and their rakes, unmindful
of the music of crying babies heard at nearly every cabin. Mothers are
nearly always deaf while planting out onions; it is a little season of
orphanage through which most children in the country have to pass once
a year. We have all passed through that bitter day with red eyes, and
it is no wonder that the sight of an onion in after life is so apt to
bring tears in our eyes.
I put in a good crop of corn, and my wife made an excellent garden with
no help but the children. I am very much tempted to brag a little on
my excellent wife, but if I were to assert that I had the best wife in
the world, each one of my male readers who are married would want me
to except his own; this would render the exceptions so numerous that
my wife would come in nearly last, so I will say nothing about it, and
keep my own opinion to myself.
After plowing my crop over once I made preparation for another trip
to Missouri, but we had all got into such a good humor while busily
engaged in farming, that we were nearly two days recounting our
grievances before we were mad enough to think of snatching our enemies
into eternity.
Taking nine men, one of whom had served under Quantrel, we started on
the 25th day of May, 1864, for another raid into Missouri. Crossing the
St. Francis river at the southwest corner of Stoddard county, we went
into Scott county and watched three days and nights to catch some men
we were after, but failing in this we went in the direction of Dallas,
the county seat of Bollinger.
My men wanted to return, as nothing of an exciting interest had
transpired so far; but at my earnest solicitation they agreed to go
with me one more day. The next morning we were traveling in day time,
and had not proceeded more than four or five miles when we discovered
a party of Federals, seven in number, who had discovered us and were
under full speed toward the town of Dallas, which was at that time
garrisoned by about one hundred Dutch soldiers. We dashed on after
them; the race was a very exciting one. When we had gone about six
miles we began to gain on them, and when we got within a mile of the
garrison one of their horses fell, giving the rider a thump on the
ground that knocked him senseless until we were upon him. We disarmed
him, and as his horse had not left, we made him mount and go with us
about two miles in the woods.
The Dutchman seemed very much alarmed, and gave us enough broken
English for a good sized volume; but as soon as we arrived in a thick
timbered hollow between the hills, we quietly sent his spirit back to
the Rhine where it never should have left. In a few hours we called at
the house of a friend, fed our horses and got some refreshments for
ourselves.
To the Flat Woods, in St. Francois county, we then made our way, and
remained there about twenty-four hours, after which we went to the
extreme northern part of the county, and concealed ourselves among the
Pike Run hills. Those hills are perhaps the most rugged part of the
whole State, and are covered with a dense thicket of underbrush, making
it a wild, uninhabited wilderness. These hills not being far from Big
river, they afforded me a secure place for my temporary headquarters
while searching around for my enemies.
Early in the morning I engaged the services of a well known friend, who
feigned business in several parts of the neighborhood, who returned at
night and reported that only two of my persecutors were at home, whose
name were James Walls and John Baker.
On the following morning when the light of day again pierced through
the gloom of our retreat I went and stationed myself near the house
where they both resided.
I did not watch long before Walls came out onto the porch. But I had
failed to get a position sufficiently near for me to kill him at the
house; I was watching for them to come to the wood pile, which would
only have been about one hundred yards. I could always hit a spot as
large as a man‘s hand at that distance with old “Kill-devil.”
About ten o‘clock two men rode up to the house, alighted and went in;
they came out again in half an hour followed by both Walls and Baker,
who started off in an opposite direction from where I lay. I then
changed my position to the opposite side of the house, thinking they
probably would return soon.
I remained quietly until the sun had dipped behind the western hills,
then I returned to camp where I again found my friend who had acted as
a spy for me. He told me that he had seen Baker and Walls going in the
direction of De Soto with two other men, one of whom stated to him
that “Sam Hildebrand was thought to be in the country, from the fact
that strange and very rough looking men had been seen at several public
places, and that they were thought to be Hildebrand‘s men.”
The reader will here understand that these unwarrantable scares were
very frequent in this vicinity; one poor ragged stranger making his
appearance in the neighborhood was sufficient at any time to raise the
cry of “Hildebrand,” at which all who had wronged me would squat like
young quails.
Knowing that any further efforts to kill either Walls or Baker would
be fruitless, I concluded to run the risk of watching the town of Big
River Mills, which was at that time a place of rendezvous for the
Militia, where they generally collected before starting out against me.
I accordingly took my station on a bluff overlooking the main road
leading from the settlement of my old enemies to that place, being
about a quarter of a mile below the town and fifty yards from the road.
At daylight I was on the bluff and ready for business. During the day
people passed the road at intervals of from fifteen minutes to half an
hour; but none of them were the men I wanted to kill. From the position
I occupied I could easily recognize the features of any one with whom I
was formerly acquainted.
In the evening, about an hour by sun, I discovered a man riding slowly
and alone toward the town, whom I recognized as Joe McGahan. A thrill
of intense satisfaction pervaded my whole system, which it would be
folly in me to attempt to describe. The English language from its high
standard of dignity to its inexhaustible mine of scathing invective
would be inadequate to describe the supreme contempt I felt for that
man. When I reflected that one of the men who had dipped his hands
in the blood of my brothers was now within the range of my gun, my
feelings of joy, mingled with a hope of success was indescribable.
Nearer and nearer he came, unconscious that retributive justice was
hanging over his head; and as he approached the desired point I raised
my trusty rifle to my face, placed my finger on the trigger, and was
nearly in the act of pulling when the man turned his face a little
toward me, when I discovered the sad and almost fatal mistake, that
instead of being McGahan it was a man by the name of Sharp. He was a
Union man living near by, but was a worthy man and highly esteemed by
all who knew him. I almost involuntarily hailed him in order to explain
and apologize, but was checked instantly by the return of reason. As he
passed slowly out of sight my eyes were riveted on him until a point
of the bluff around which he had passed broke the spell. I was deeply
absorbed in thought, and the question naturally arose in my mind, why I
should have been so often thwarted in my attempts to mete out justice
to one who was a scourge to the land that gave him birth, and who had
not even the magnanimity of the rattlesnake whose alarm is heard
before the blow is struck.
I arrived finally to the conclusion that his Satanic Majesty, who still
ruled the infernal regions without a rival, was jealous of his protege
upon earth where he still needed his services, and that he wished to
delay the period when he would be compelled to doff his crown to a
superior.
I did not remain long in ambush after I had come so near committing
a terrible error; but hastened through the woods, back to my retreat
among the Pike Run hills, and found my men awaiting my return with
anxious impatience. As soon as it was dark we started south, and after
midnight reached the pinery, southwest from Farmington, and slept there
until late in the morning. Our horses were much fagged, we saw that it
was best to swap them off before proceeding on our journey.
During the day we stationed ourselves near the plank road between
Farmington and Pilot Knob, to watch for an opportunity of exchanging
horses. A large company of Federals passed by, but they were too
numerous for our purpose. Toward evening we saw three men approaching
who were mounted upon fine looking horses. The names of the men were
Burges, Hughes and Kelley. We lost no time in capturing the party, and
to prevent them from reporting us too soon, we made them go with us
several miles over the rugged hills and deep ravines.
Not understanding this movement, they seemed much alarmed, thinking
probably that we designed “barking” them.
Old man Burges begged manfully for his life, and shed an occasional
tear; but I told him that as they were not Federal soldiers, and that
as I had no personal animosity against them, it would be barbarous in
the extreme for us to harm them. We took their horses, gave them our
own and then released them. They left seemingly very well pleased with
the arrangement, and as we had rather out-jockeyed them, we certainly
had no right to complain.
We kept near the road leading to Pilot Knob until near sunset, when we
came to Abright‘s store. Abright was a good Union Dutchman, and was not
in the habit of crediting bushwhackers, so we robbed his store of all
we wanted and then taking the woods we changed our course.
Night soon overtook us, and we traveled eastward until we got into the
neighborhood where Mr. Bess resided, on White Water. It was now late in
the morning, and we took our position on the top of a high hill where
we had a fine view of the surrounding country, and especially of the
main road along which the Federals were in the habit of passing from
Cape Girardeau to Fredericktown.
In the evening, while most of us were sleeping, my pickets discovered
a small squad of soldiers about half a mile off, making their way
westward. On being awakened I directed my men to follow me, went down
to the road which was skirted by very thick undergrowth, where we
secreted ourselves in two parties about fifty yards apart, giving
orders not to fire on the Federals unless they showed fight or
attempted to run. When they got near the second squad we stepped out
into the road and demanded them to surrender. Our appearance was so
sudden that they had no time to draw their weapons. Several of them
wheeled their horses for a run, but on discovering themselves faced on
that side also they threw up their hands in token of a willingness to
surrender.
I made them dismount and stack their arms against a tree; after which
we marched them into the woods to where our horses were and proceeded
to question them.
Then I told them who I was, at which they seemed rather pleased, and
remarked that they had often heard of me, and although they had no
desire to fall into my hands as prisoners of war, yet they always
wished to see me.
I asked them if they had not heard of me as being a bushwhacker and
withal a very bad man, and that I was in the habit of killing all my
prisoners. “Oh, yes!” said their leader, “we have heard that you did
not regard the life of a personal enemy as of any value, but we have
seen several men whom you had released who told us that you was quite a
different man from the fabulous blood-thirsty Hildebrand we have heard
so much about in timid circles.”
Upon producing papers which satisfied us that they were neither
McNeal‘s or Leeper‘s men, but belonged to the command of Col. Beverage
of Cape Girardeau, we released them unarmed and afoot. We went on
toward Bollinger‘s Mill, but when in that vicinity on the next morning
about sunrise, we met two Federals in the road, who instantly wheeled
their horses and dashed through the woods at full speed.
Being burdened with the horses and the arms we had taken from our
prisoners on the day previous, all of us could not engage in the
pursuit. Captain Snap, myself and two men started after them at full
speed, and caught them in less than half a mile. They stopped and threw
up their hands before we were within two hundred yards of them. I was
almost tempted to shoot them for being cowards.
After taking them back to our boys, we went on the top of an adjacent
hill and camped for the day. We ascertained from the prisoners that
they were new recruits, which was corroborated by some letters from
their friends which they happened to have in their pockets.
Knowing that they had not been in the army long enough to have
committed many depredations, we decided to release them; but as we were
already burdened with horses we took them along with us to assist with
our stock until we had passed Mingo Swamp, and then released them. A
few days afterwards we arrived safely in Green county, Arkansas.
CHAPTER XXVI.
Started to St. Francois county, Missouri.—Hung Vogus and
Zimmer.—Hung George Hart.—Concealed in Bike Run Hills.—Started
back.—Hung Mr. Mett‘s negro, and another one.—Took two
deserters back and hung them.
After remaining a few days with my family, I yielded to the
solicitation of Captain Bowman to take a trip to St. Francois county,
Missouri, for the purpose of capturing a young man by the name of
George Hart, who, on a scout with some militia, had killed Captain
Bowman‘s brother in order to get a very fine horse that he rode.
Our company, consisting of nine men, started on the 20th day of June,
1864; we traveled altogether in the night, and on the morning of
the 26th we camped for the day on Wolf creek, about six miles from
Farmington. During the day one of my men clad himself in citizen‘s
clothes, which we always carried along for such emergencies, and went
into Farmington to see the sights and to get a bottle of good old
“tangle-foot.”
When night came our man had not made his appearance; we immediately
arrested a couple of Dutchmen for the purpose of eliciting information
from them concerning the military force in town, thinking that probably
my man had been taken in by the soldiers as a spy. The men we arrested
were Henry Vogus and John Zimmer, who stated that there were no forces
in town at that time, and that there had been no soldiers there for
nearly a month. They affirmed that they had been there that day, and
that if we did not believe them they would go with us to town and prove
the matter. At this juncture my man came in and reported a company
of soldiers in the town who had been there for some time. It was now
evident to our minds that the Dutchmen were aiming to trap us. I will
here state that during the whole war the Dutch went further, tried
harder and risked more for my capture than any other people. A very
short consultation was sufficient to seal the fate of our two prisoners
on the present occasion; we hung them and went on our way rejoicing.
Passing a short distance east of Farmington, we stopped at the house
of Ross Jelkyl, who was at that time Provost Marshal, and took such
things as we needed. Some of my men were anxious to kill him, but he
had befriended me on one occasion, and I would not permit them to do so.
From there we went to the residence of Charles Hart, where we found his
son George, whom we were after. We stationed men at the back door and
demanded admittance at the front; the old man in a short time opened
the door, and in obedience to our orders struck a light. On demanding
George Hart he made his appearance, looking very much condemned.
On asking him about the horse he had taken when he murdered young
Bowman, he stated that he had traded him off, and that he was out of
the country. We then told him that he must go with us, to which he
made no objection, but was very anxious to know what we wished to do
with him; we told him to wait and see. Before we had taken him far,
he became satisfied that he would be killed, and made us some offers
for his life, which Captain Bowman silenced in a few words by asking
him if he thought he was able to pay for the life of young Bowman whom
he had murdered in cold blood. We traveled about eight miles with our
prisoner, during which time he made a complete confession.
Daylight began to appear; we were now about a mile from Big River
Mills, and not wishing to be encumbered by a prisoner, we took some
hickory bark and hung him to a dogwood sapling. One of his feet touched
the ground, so we placed it in the fork of a bush, which completed the
process of hanging.
The main object of our trip having been accomplished, our next move was
to get supplies of summer clothing for our families, which we decided
on taking from an old meddlesome Union German in Jefferson county by
the name of Lepp, who had a store on a small creek called Swashen. We
accordingly proceeded to the place and found the old man in his store;
he was close-fisted and not in the habit of crediting, but we succeeded
in getting all we wanted _at very low figures_, and after promising him
our patronage in the future we started back.
Knowing that our operations about Farmington would create a great
excitement, that the forces at Pilot Knob, Farmington, Potosi,
Fredericktown and the Iron Mountain with the irrepressible Big River
Militia, would all be put on our trail, we decided to travel by night
and to get out of the country as soon as possible. But we were
overruled by a power higher than our own, and our plans were in some
measure thwarted.
On our way to rob Lepp‘s store, one of my men complained of feeling
unwell, and by the time we had rode ten miles on our return he became
too sick to sit upon his horse. We retreated to a cave in the Pike Run
hills where we could conceal ourselves, our horses and our goods while
administering to the wants of our sick comrade. Our situation here was
indeed a very critical one, and had it not been for the kindness of
a true Southern friend, who supplied us at night with provisions and
horse feed, we undoubtedly would have suffered; he risked his own life
to save us, and in addition to his other acts of kindness he procured
the services of a physician, who checked the disease in a few days.
It is needless to state that during all this time the country was
literally flooded with Federal soldiers who hunted for me on their same
old plan, of riding along the road, threatening women and children, and
killing chickens.
After remaining at the Pike Run hills seven or eight days, our comrade
was sufficiently recovered to mount his horse. As he was yet quite weak
we thought it best to travel during daylight at the commencement of
our trip. We rode slowly through the woods, and avoided the soldiers
by keeping out of the public roads, and by shunning all places
where _liquor_ could be obtained. On reaching the vicinity of my
brothers-in-law, on Flat river, we met old Isaac, a negro belonging to
Mr. Metts, carrying a bridle around his shoulder. As we were dressed
in Federal uniform he mistook us for Union soldiers, and in answer
to our inquiries, made a lengthy report against the Southern men in
that neighborhood, clearly implicating the Simms family as well as the
Shannons and Sweeneys. He said he would have reported sooner, but that
he was afraid they would suspicion him and get Sam Hildebrand to put
him out of the way.
The report he made to us, if told to a squad of Federals, was
sufficient to have consigned those Southern men to an ignominious
death without any further evidence. The charge was this: that in his
opinion “if Sam Hildebrand was to call at their houses and ask for
something to eat, that they would feed him until he was as plump as a
stuffed turkey.” Some of my boys wanted to shoot him to prevent him
from making that awful revelation to the Federal authorities; but I
objected, because the sound of a gun might lead to our discovery. We
quietly lashed him to a horse which we were leading, took him among the
hills toward Westover‘s mill and hung him. On searching his pockets
for a knife I found a pocket book containing sixty-four dollars. Some
of the boys proposed that as they seemed to have money we should take
in a few negroes until our pockets were replenished. On the next day
we came suddenly across one in the woods; as we were traveling slowly
it was necessary that we should get through the country without being
reported. Having no spare rope, we hung the negro with hickory bark;
but on searching his pockets we found nothing but a cob pipe.
Nothing else worthy of note occurred until we reached the vicinity of
Greenville. While camped for the day on a high elevation, we discovered
two men coming up the hill toward us. Under the supposition that they
were tracking us, we were about to shoot them, but discovered presently
that they were not armed. They came leisurely up the hill, walking
as if they were very tired, and got within fifteen steps of our camp
before they discovered it. Their first impulse was to run, but we
ordered them to surrender, and they abandoned all idea of being able to
make their escape. They proved to be deserters from the Federal army at
Ironton, who were making their way to their homes at New Madrid. One
of my men knew them well, and to him they are indebted to this day for
their lives. We kept them with us until night and then permitted them
to continue their journey.
We were no little amused at the many horrible tales of pillage and
blood-shed that they said were reported daily at the Federal camps
about my depredations. The strangest part of it was that many of those
enormities were committed on the same day and in localities very remote
from each other.
When night came the rest of the company proceeded on to Arkansas; but
Captain Bowman, Traster and myself concluded to go into Shannon county
after a couple of deserters who, in the early part of the war, had
belonged to Captain Bolin‘s command. While with us, however, they were
of no service, being too cowardly to fight and too lazy to steal; but
since their desertion they were constantly reporting every squad of
rebels who visited that section of country, and were in the habit of
annoying Southern citizens in that neighborhood.
On reaching the neighborhood where they lived we learned that they
had gone to Ironton, and the supposition was that they had gone there
for the purpose of joining the Union army. But on the next day they
returned; we quietly arrested them, got them out of the country without
creating any alarm and marched them back to Green county, Arkansas,
where we hung them in the presence of the command.
CHAPTER XXVII.
Started with nine men to St. Francois county.—Stopped in the
Pike Run Hills.—Robbed the store of Christopher Lepp.—Hung Mr.
Kinder‘s negro.—Attacked by Federals.—Killed two and lost a
man.—Shot two soldiers on a furlough.—The strange camp.
I had not been at home long before I formed the acquaintance of a
man by the name of Gibson, who had come to our little Green County
Confederacy for the purpose of joining the “bushwhacking department.”
Gibson was a man possessing some superior advantages over most of Capt.
Bolin‘s men; he had an accomplished education, and was endowed with
a peculiar faculty of making all the men like him. He was the best
marksman in our whole company, with one single exception; and that
exception, I must modestly assert for the sake of truth, was myself.
On the 16th day of July, I selected Gibson and eight other men for
another trip into St. Francois county. Having made so many failures
in that quarter, I had some forebodings that I would again meet
with disappointments; but I had long since resolved to let my old
enemies have no peace while I labored under no greater disadvantages
than I did. It is true that they were backed by a great nation of
untold wealth, whose enemies actually in the field numbered more than
one million and a half of armed men, and whose line of garrisoned
territory extended one hundred and fifty miles south of their nest on
Big river; yet while I thought that I was backed by the South with her
armies of three hundred thousand men, I asked no better amusement than
that of striking at my enemies under the ponderous wing of Federal
protection.
Unlike my enemies, I had no commissary department, no steam presses
running night and day striking off greenbacks, no outlet to other
nations by commercial treaties, no people at my back willing to be
saddled with a debt of three or four thousand millions of dollars
merely to carry into effect a Utopian idea. My long marches had to
be made in the night and with the utmost caution and secrecy. The
woods were my home, the moon my orb of light, and the hooting owls my
spectators.
My enemies long since had learned to fear my name; the fear of
retributive justice was sufficient to make them cower; their militia
organization only assumed a tangible shape when I was absent; for on
my approach they secreted themselves so securely that nothing short of
the prolonged sound of Gabriel‘s trump could ever be able to bring them
forth.
We passed quietly through Butler county, along the western line of
Madison, then through St. Francois and across Big river to those native
hills and hunting grounds of my boyhood, known as the Pike Run hills.
The reader must bear in mind that these hills possess peculiar
advantages over any other part of the country between St. Louis and the
Arkansas line.
They look like the fragments of a broken up world piled together in
dread confusion, and terminating finally in an abrupt bluff on the
margin of Big river, where nature has left a cavern half way up the
perpendicular rock, now known as “The Hildebrand Cave,” the mouth to
which cannot be seen either from the top or bottom.
Among these rugged hills, covered over by the dense forest and wild
grape vines, are many yawning caverns known to some hunters, while
there are doubtless many others never yet seen by the eye of man. We
took up our abode in one of these caverns during the inclemency of the
weather, and as the ground was too soft to venture out on horseback,
for fear of leaving a trail, I went around through the Big river
neighborhood on foot, for the purpose of finding some of my enemies.
The only one I saw was James Craig; I discovered him one day in the
act of leaving home on foot, so I made a circuit through the woods
and stationed myself in advance with the intention of arresting him.
I wished to take him to my cavern that my comrades also might see him
hung; but he never came along, and thus I missed my game entirely.
By this time my men were tired of inaction, so we started on our march,
and on going about fifteen miles we came to a place called the Tunnel,
on the Iron Mountain railroad.
From the store of Christopher Lepp, we supplied ourselves with all the
articles that we could conveniently carry, took our back track to the
crossing of Big river, near the ruins of the Hildebrand homestead, and
made our way toward Castor creek, for the purpose of squelching a
negro belonging to Mr. Kinder. This negro had become notorious for his
meddlesome nature, and his propensity for reporting white men. On the
night of our arrival there, we succeeded in finding him, and to satisfy
ourselves thoroughly in regard to his meanness, we passed ourselves
off for Federals, and questioned him concerning his old master. He
very freely and exultingly proceeded to relate the many reasons he had
for believing that he was disloyal. We asked him whether or not he
was willing for us to kill the old man. He told us that he would kill
him himself if we would see him out in it; that the soldiers had told
him two or three months ago that if he would kill him that he should
have the farm, but that as yet he had not succeeded in getting a good
opportunity. At this we were satisfied that he would make good food for
the buzzards, so we hung him up for that purpose, and started on our
way.
We were now traveling in day time and pursuing our way very leisurely,
when about four o‘clock in the evening, we were trailed up and ran
into by a company of Federals, who had probably been trailing us all
day. They ran on to us in good earnest, and seemed very anxious for
the honor of capturing or killing me. The manner of their attack is
worthy of note. On getting within sight of us they held back until we
were passing over the backbone of a ridge, then they made a rush, and
on getting to the top of the hill were within one hundred yards of us.
Their elevation caused them to over shoot all of us except one poor
fellow, one of our new recruits, who was shot through the head. We
dashed into the brush and went over that rough country about a mile at
full speed; then giving up our horses to the other men with directions
where to meet us, Gibson, myself and two others, started back on foot
to “bushwhack” them. On getting within two hundred yards of where our
dead man lay, we saw them exulting over their victory. I directed my
men to make their way around and take their positions along the road
where they could get a shot, while I took it upon myself to run them
back. I crawled up within one hundred yards of the party, got a bead on
one of them, and when I fired he fell from his horse within a few feet
of where our dead man lay. This was all that was necessary to put them
on their back track, and they were off at full speed; as they passed
my men they all fired in turn, Gibson brought one to the ground, but I
think the other boys missed their aim, although they insisted to the
last that they wounded a man apiece.
We secured the horses belonging to the two men we killed, and started
on our journey, and on the following morning took up quarters within
eight miles of Bloomfield.
During the day, myself and Bill Rucker, walked down to a plum thicket
near the road, and while we were there eating plums, we discovered two
Dutchmen dressed in citizens‘ clothes passing by. We called to them
to come and get some plums, which they readily consented to do. As we
were dressed in Federal uniform they seemed at once to take us for
Union soldiers. We asked them to what command they belonged; who they
were, and why they were not in the service. They said they belonged to
Leeper‘s command, and were on a furlough to see their uncle living at
Mine La Motte, that they had on borrowed clothes and no arms in order
to fool the Rebels, should they meet any. We found out a great deal
about “Bolin‘s and Hildebrand‘s band of murderers and ropers,” as they
called us. We shot them both, and returned to camp. At night we started
on, and in a few days arrived safely at our usual place of crossing the
St. Francis.
We arrived on the bank of the river just after dark, and were startled
by the appearance of a camp on the other side at the mouth of a little
creek. We could easily perceive the reflection from several camp fires
among the trees, and more than once we caught the sound of human voices.
Could it be possible that this was a camp of Federals? If so, why did
they not place out their pickets? The more we studied about the matter
the further were we from coming to any conclusion.
We rode back into the timbered bottom and continued our way down the
country at some distance from the river, until we were about a mile
below the strange looking camp, and there crossed the river by swimming
it.
After continuing up the river a short distance we rode on to a high
brushy point and dismounted. Then taking it on foot I proceeded to spy
out the mysterious camp above us. I continued to approach cautiously
watching closely for the pickets, but I saw nothing of them. Finally
I stood in the midst of perhaps a dozen little brush shanties, and
yet saw not a single human being. I was more puzzled than ever. I
peeped into one of the brush arbors and a lady‘s voice cried out: “Who
is that?” The alarm spread, and I heard the voices of women in every
direction.
Presently I heard the voice of my wife, and on going to her I soon
learned the particulars of the calamity that had befallen our community
in our absence.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
Capt. John, with a company of Federals, burns the Headquarters
in Green county, Arkansas.—He is “bushwhacked,” routed and
killed.—Raid into Washington county with fourteen men.—Attacked
by twenty Federals.—Killed a Union man for piloting Capt. John.
A few days before my arrival in Arkansas, our little community of women
and children at headquarters, were suddenly aroused from their slumbers
one morning by the firing of a gun, and found themselves surrounded
by a whole company of Federals under the command of Capt. John from
Ironton, Missouri.
All the men were absent on different scouting expeditions, except
eight men, who happened to be in camp that morning; they seized their
guns and endeavored to make their escape, but seven of them were shot
down, and the other made his escape unhurt. The Federals immediately
commenced burning the houses, after taking all the provisions and
clothing they could find.
The women in great consternation, gathered their children, and in their
night clothes huddled together in the centre of the square; there in
their helpless condition to watch the devouring flames that was fast
winding around them and reducing their homes to ashes.
Before the houses were all in flames however, Capt. John ordered his
men to supply the women with what clothing they could snatch from the
flames.
After their hasty toilet was concluded their terror subsided, and with
perfect composure they watched the progress of the flames without
betraying any emotion; they were determined that the Federals should
be deprived the satisfaction of believing that they had triumphed over
their spirit of eternal enmity to the Federal cause.
Some of our boys who had been out on a hunt now returned toward the
camp, and before they were aware the Federals fired upon them and
killed two of their number. As the scouts were in the habit of coming
in from various directions, it was impossible to give them warning
before they were completely in the Federal trap.
A few hours after the tragedy commenced, the Federals had all left, and
the women in squads of five or six, went in different directions and
camped a few miles off to meet the scouts as they returned.
My wife and her party had camped near the St. Francis river, and
were living on fish when I returned. The Federals were still in the
neighborhood, burning the farm houses, mills and shops.
On the same night that I learned these particulars, I sent all my men
out in different directions to ferret out the enemy and to meet at a
designated place before daylight. With much difficulty we succeeded in
finding several squads of the Federals, from which we inferred, that
finding our men mostly absent, they had divided into many little bands
to finish their work of devastating the country as soon as possible.
We met at the time and place designated, and concluded that our only
chance was to “bushwhack” the Federals, and thus drive them out of
the country as soon as possible. Two men were detailed to take a trip
up Black river, to notify Capt. Bolin, and as many men as they could
find, of what was going on, that they might intercept the Federals
and “bushwhack” them after I should succeed in routing them from the
country.
In less than an hour our company was increased to fifteen men. We
hastened on foot toward the lower end of the settlement, and on getting
within half a mile of a farm house, we saw about thirty Federals
engaged in burning the buildings. We heard the discharge of a gun, and
on looking in that direction, we saw a Federal reel in his saddle and
then fall to the earth. Two soldiers on horseback immediately dashed
toward the point where the shot proceeded from, and in an instant we
saw a boy about thirteen years of age, crawl out of a gully and start
toward the point of the hill where we were with the soldiers after him.
The boy had so much the start of them that we saw he could easily reach
us before the Federals could overtake him. We lay concealed in the
thick brush and let the boy pass without seeing us; the soldiers were
soon in our midst; we rose up and made them surrender without creating
any alarm. We tied them securely and awaited the approach of others who
might be sent out in search of these two.
The boy was greatly overjoyed when he found out who we were. In about
half an hour ten Federals came riding up toward us. Our prisoners had
been removed back half a mile and hung to prevent an alarm. We saluted
the Federals with a sudden discharge from our rifles, and six of them
dropped from their horses; the others suddenly wheeled and made their
escape. The other soldiers hastened on to an adjoining ridge and kept
up a harmless fire against us for two or three hours; they did this
to divert our attention as it appears, for before we were fully aware
of the fact a fresh force of Federals, numbering perhaps forty men,
commenced a deadly fire upon us in our rear, and soon drove us from
our position. Our retreat was rather disorderly, and before we had
succeeded in crossing a ravine and gaining the opposite ridge, four of
my men were killed and two others slightly wounded. We continued our
retreat for five miles, and then placed ourselves in position to rake
the Federals without much danger to ourselves. Here we remained for
several hours, and were loth to leave the place, but it finally became
apparent to us that the intention of the Federals was to burn out the
neighborhood, and then to hasten back before we could collect our men
together.
We wound our way through the woods toward our old headquarters. Late
in the evening we heard firing in front, and in an instant we started
in that direction, but were soon met by eight of our men who had just
returned from a scout, without knowing what was going on. As they were
on the retreat we did not feel justifiable in trying to make a stand
against such superior numbers, so we diverged to the right and let the
Federals pass without attracting their attention.
On the night following we succeeded in finding the Federal camp, and
during the whole night continued to “bushwhack” them at intervals,
until we had killed eight or ten of their pickets. The next morning
they seemed to have taken up their march for Missouri, but during
the whole day we annoyed them all we could, by posting ourselves in
positions where we had the advantage, and thereby picked off several
of them. Late in the evening they made an attempt to follow us into
the woods, but we attacked the party on every side; the slaughter was
terrible, and we finally put them to rout after killing Capt. John
himself, and quite a number of his men.
We discovered among the Federals, several citizens, whom we afterwards
learned had gone from Missouri for the purpose of giving all the
assistance in their power toward ferreting out our headquarters.
Wearied by constant fighting, I and my men now returned to the
neighborhood of our old camp, leaving a fresh supply of Capt. Bolin‘s
men to continue “bushwhacking” the Federals until they should return to
their hive in Ironton.
After we had completely routed Capt. John‘s incendiaries and driven
them from the country, our condition was indeed deplorable.
Without shelter for our families save a few huts that the Federals did
not consider worth burning, into each of which two or three families
were huddled, without bedding or a change of clothing, and but little
food, we were indeed in adverse circumstances. Several of our men were
compelled to remain at headquarters several months to repair damages.
Our families, in their crowded condition, became unhealthy, and several
of the children died. While we were arranging matters for the comfort
and convenience of our families, we obtained our supplies from the
border counties of Missouri by making short raids; our bedding and
provisions, however, we obtained in a great measure, from our friends;
but we occasionally branched out further to rob the stores and houses
of Union men.
Another great difficulty under which we labored was the entire absence
of surgical aid for our wounded, for the want of which many of our
men who recovered were so deformed that they were forever afterward
rendered unfit for active duty.
The whole available force of our community now only amounted to eighty
available men, and by the time that we had rebuilt twenty houses and a
temporary mill, our numbers were still further reduced by desertion,
for many of them now left and went into Texas. While these repairs were
going on we held a council, in which it was decided that half our men
might take the field against our enemies in Missouri, and make them
pay for the damage that we had sustained. In doing this, however, we
had no intention of applying the torch to the dwellings of our Union
enemies; we were never mean enough for that; we made no war upon women
and children; that kind of warfare was exclusively used by our enemies
of boasted civilization, refinement and magnanimity.
I started to Washington county, Missouri, with fourteen men to obtain
supplies of clothing and ammunition. With a great deal of caution we
made our way up Black river through Butler and Reynolds counties, and
entered Washington county on her extreme southern line, traveling only
at night, and concealing ourselves each day among the rugged hills of
Black river.
We visited a store and packed several horses which we had taken in the
neighborhood, with shoes, domestics and calicoes; and here we found
some concealed ammunition, which we appropriated. On starting back we
traveled slowly; not having heard of any Federals in the neighborhood,
we imagined ourselves safe, and designed traveling in the day time. As
we were so familiar with all the roads and by-paths in this section of
country, we generally felt safe while on our return to Arkansas, but on
this occasion we were doomed to disappointment.
We had gone but a short distance into Reynolds county, when we were
suddenly attacked by a party of Federals, numbering perhaps twenty or
twenty-five; they had trailed us from the store we had robbed, and now
they came upon us with a perfect fury.
Being heavily packed and encumbered with the horses we were leading,
we could not run; at their fire one of my men was killed, at which I
took advantage of their empty guns, wheeled my men into the brush,
dismounted, and in an instant returned their fire, at which three
of their number fell; I dashed forward with about half my men and
succeeded in gaining their rear. My party in front and my men in the
rear now made a simultaneous charge upon them with our revolvers,
killing two more and wounding several, in which two of my men were
wounded, but not mortally.
In the fight all the other Federals charged over us and got away, with
the exception of eight prisoners, three of whom were wounded. The
result of the little fight was, five dead Federals, thirteen horses,
eighteen guns and ten revolvers; having lost one man killed and two
wounded, but not sufficiently to keep them from traveling.
After I had inspected the damages, I turned my attention to the
prisoners, who were dismounted, disarmed and sitting by the roadside,
under guard. On approaching them two of them arose, called me by name
and asked permission to shake hands with me. After a short conversation
I found that they were two of the men I had captured on Lost creek,
in Wayne county, during the month of May, 1863, whom I released after
negotiating with them for the escape of two of Capt. Bolin‘s men in
prison at Ironton. On recognizing them I again gave them my hand in
reassurance that I appreciated the services they had rendered us in
proving true to their word, and could not help telling them that I was
glad to see them. After the ceremony incident to the renewal of our
acquaintance was over, I began making preparations for continuing our
journey after having first buried the dead.
I told our two Union friends that they were again released, together
with their three wounded comrades, but that I would take the other
three along with me; they, however, plead manfully for the release
of their three friends, but I told them that I was compelled to have
their assistance in getting along with our stock, until we reached
Greenville, at which place, for their sake, I would release them, and
true to my word, I did so.
We made our way to Green county with as much haste as prudence would
permit; being too much burdened to “bushwhack” any of those citizens
who had accompanied Capt. John into our little confederacy, we
concluded to let them rest for the present; but having accidentally met
one in the road, I shot him through the head and rode on. We found all
things cheerful about headquarters, and soon divided our goods among
the needy families.
CHAPTER XXIX.
Took a raid into Missouri with four men.—Killed a
Federal.—Killed two of Capt. Milks‘ men.—Started to De
Soto.—Routed by the Federals.—Adventure with a German.—Killed
three Federals on Black river.
In the latter part of August, 1864, I selected four men and started
after some of my old enemies on Big river.
At this period they had all disappeared except three or four who still
ventured to call their old residences their homes, but they stayed most
of their time around the Federal camps anxiously waiting for the time
to come when the Federal authorities would succeed, either in killing
or capturing me, when a new era of peace and quiet would again bless
them in the pursuit of theft and murder.
Those of the old mob who had left their homes and were now dwelling, as
they supposed, in utter obscurity, were not lost sight of by me, for
I kept myself posted in regard to all their movements. The especial
object of this trip was to penetrate the enemies country as far as
De Soto, Jefferson county, Missouri, and surprise a couple of the
old mob who now lived in that vicinity, and before the authorities
were aware of our unholy presence, to have our little mission of
vengeance completed. On passing Bloomfield it might truthfully be
said that we were within the Federal lines. A heavy military force
was stationed at Pilot Knob at the beginning of the war, and smaller
forces were stationed at the county seats of the various counties in
Southeast Missouri; they were inactive so far as the national war was
concerned, but amused themselves by marauding through the country,
and occasionally killing some unarmed citizens, or indulging in the
characteristics of Ben. Butler.
On gaining the vicinity of Fredericktown, we obtained important
information from our friends in that quarter relative to the
distribution of the Federal forces, which aided us materially in
shaping our course. From this place we went east of Mine La Motte,
and took up our quarters for the day in an unfrequented part of the
country, about three miles south of the Cross Roads, in St. Francois
county, where we remained unmolested until in the evening, when we
discovered a man in Federal uniform tracking our horses slowly across
an adjoining ridge. We felt very sorry for him in his lonely condition;
I went down the hill a little distance toward him, and when he came
within a hundred yards of me, and commenced making his circuit toward
our camp I turned old “Kill-devil” loose upon him; but owing to his
stooping posture as he was looking for tracks I shot him too low and
broke him down in the back. He set up a hideous yelling, which was very
annoying to us just at this time; so I hastened to his relief, and soon
dispatched him with my revolver. Being a little fearful that we had
attracted the attention of the people in the neighborhood, and that
perhaps a Union force was on our track of which the lone Federal might
have been one of the number, we concluded to move. Directing our way
through the most thickly wooded parts of the country during the balance
of the day, we reached Wolf creek about midnight at the plank road
leading from Farmington to Ste. Genevieve.
Feeling much fatigued, and having lost much sleep, we decided on
camping until the following night, having with us a sufficiency of
provisions and horse feed. We slept soundly until daylight, and then
did picket duty by turns until late in the evening, when I discovered
two Federal soldiers in the valley below us, going toward Farmington.
I at once took my position with one of my men, and as they came up
talking very merrily, we surprised them by presenting our pistols in a
few feet of their faces and demanding a surrender, at which they seemed
somewhat alarmed but made no resistance.
After dismounting and disarming them we took them to our quiet nook in
the woods, and upon inquiry we found that they belonged to a company at
Ste. Genevieve under Capt. Milks.
We felt very much rejoiced at getting two of this company who had
formerly been stationed at Farmington, and after harrassing and robbing
the peaceable citizens in that community for several months they were
removed to Ste. Genevieve.
On one of their scouts through the country they arrested Charles Burks,
county judge of Ste. Genevieve for compelling the Provost Marshal to
deliver up some horses belonging to the judge whom the marshal had
unjustly seized. The old man was taken a few miles after his arrest
by Milks‘ men and shot without any questions being asked, and without
even a charge of disloyalty ever having been brought against him.
On another occasion they arrested Irvin M. Haile, one of the most
peaceable men in St. Francois county, under a charge made by some
sneaking informer, that on one occasion he had fed me and my men. This
was the whole of the accusation brought against him. He was allowed no
trial, no defense; but two inhuman monsters took him a few miles, shot
him through the head, then taking his horse they left his body in the
woods, where it was afterwards found.
The recollection of these and some other acts of atrocity committed
by that company sealed the fate of my two prisoners; in the name
of justice and humanity I shot them both through the head with my
revolver, and ordered my men to cast them in a deep hole of water in
Wolf creek, with stones tied to their feet.
As soon as it was dark we went to the house of a friend to get some
feed for ourselves and horses, but on arriving there we saw a party of
perhaps twenty persons who were just mounting their horses in front of
the gate, and in a few minutes they rode off and were lost to us in the
dim starlight. We approached the house cautiously, but found no one
there except the kind lady who told us that the cause of the excitement
was that “Sam Hildebrand was supposed to be in country;” that some
soldiers from Fredericktown had come up and stated positively that my
trail had been followed in that direction, and that the citizens were
ordered out to assist in the search.
After getting something to eat and feed for our horses we started on,
and by daylight the next morning we were safely housed in a cave among
the Pike Run hills, in the northern part of St. Francois county.
Here we remained but one day; as soon as darkness approached we
proceeded on into Jefferson county until ten o‘clock, when we stopped
at the house of a friend who gave us our suppers and treated us so well
that the night was half spent before we started on. Our friend warned
us very pressingly against going any further in the direction of De
Soto, but we determined not to retreat until real danger was apparent.
But unfortunately we had consumed too much time, and did not reach the
part of the country where we designed taking up quarters for the day,
and while making a forced march between daylight and sunrise on an old
unfrequented road near the top of a ridge where we designed taking up
quarters, we suddenly ran into a company of Federal soldiers who were
coming toward us.
They charged us on sight and in good earnest, firing a volley at us,
but we miraculously escaped unhurt, but several of us carried off some
respectable holes in our clothing. Their charge was really furious,
and caused us to scatter in every direction, and after a hasty and
precipitate retreat of perhaps a mile and a half, I ventured to stop
and take a look at my surroundings; the last fifteen minutes of my life
passed off in such a “whiz” that I hardly knew where I was, and I was
very certain that I did not know where my men were; but I felt very
well over the fact that there were no Federal soldiers in sight.
I was not long in planning my course; a place had been designated by me
in the Pike Run hills for us to meet in an emergency of this kind, and
I struck out for the spot, traveling very cautiously and keeping in the
thickest timbered country all the time.
Arriving at the place late in the evening, I found one of my men who
had gained the spot a short time before me. Here we remained waiting
in anxious suspense until after dark, and had almost come to the
conclusion that the other men had been captured or killed when they
came up. They had got together soon after the stampede, and not being
very well acquainted with the country they had been lost, and when
night overtook them they pressed a pilot into their service whom they
discovered passing along the road, and compelled him to accompany them
to the place. The pilot I knew very well, and after deceiving him in
regard to the course we designed taking, we released him under the
promise that he would not report us.
As we were now destined to be hunted down like the wild beasts of the
forest, we resolved to get out of the country as quick as possible
and over some country not traveled by us heretofore. We started in a
westwardly direction, and after traveling a few miles stopped at the
house of a friend for our suppers.
Crossing the Iron Mountain railroad south of Blackwell‘s Station, we
gained the vicinity of the Old Mines, in Washington county, before it
was yet light, where we took up quarters for the day. One of my men
being acquainted in the neighborhood, we had no trouble in getting our
necessary provisions and horse feed.
While we made our brief sojourn in this locality an incident worth
relating occurred, which was very amusing to us, and may not be
uninteresting to the reader. About ten o‘clock in the forenoon, while
it was my turn to stand on picket I sauntered through the thick brush
down to the main road, distant about two hundred yards, and suddenly
ran on to a German who was sitting near the road side, sheltered from
the sun by some brush. I discovered him before he saw me. He held in
his hand an old double-barreled shot gun. As he had on an old suit of
Federal uniform, my first impulse was to draw my revolver, which I did
in an instant. As soon as the German saw me he sprang to his feet, let
his old gun fall to the ground and threw up his hands. Seeing that
I was dressed in Federal uniform, he immediately cried out that he
was “all right,” and began in a hurried, broken gibberish to give an
account of himself; that he was from De Soto, and was going to a saw
mill west of Potosi; that he was a discharged Union soldier; that Sam
Hildebrand was in the country about De Soto, and that he was afraid to
stay there on that account. At this I advanced toward him and extended
my hand, saying as I did so that I was really a little frightened,
that I thought he was Sam Hildebrand himself when I first saw him;
that I would not hurt him if he was a Union man, but that I came very
near shooting him under the mistaken idea that he was Hildebrand. He
laughed heartily at the coincident and was quite merry over the happy
turn that the affair had taken.
I told him that I had some men stationed back in the woods on one of
Hildebrand‘s old trails, and that he could go with me and form one
of my party for the day, to which he gladly consented, manifesting a
great deal of gratitude. As we made our way cautiously to the camp
through the thick brush I told him that he was running a great risk
in traveling through that portion of country, for it was one of
Hildebrand‘s main passways.
On coming up to the boys in camp he did not wait for an introduction,
but stepped in ahead of me and shook hands with them all in the
greatest glee, telling as he did so a great many things he knew about
“Sam Hildebrand.”
The boys seemed to understand the matter perfectly well without any
explanations from me, and humored the joke very well by asking the
most absurd questions about my barbarity; but none of the questions
were too hard, for he answered them all, making it appear that I was a
blood-thirsty barbarian, without an equal in the world‘s history.
It was not until sometime during the afternoon that we undeceived him
in regard to the true nature of things; it was sometime before he could
comprehend the sudden change, or be made to believe that he was really
in my hands. But as he gradually became convinced of the fact he began
a series of lies that would have shamed “Baron Munchausen” himself. We
stopped him short, however, and told him that if he would not report us
for one month we would let him go, at which he sprang at me, seizing
my hand with both of his, he pledged himself and swore by all that was
holy and righteous that he never would report us while he lived. He
shook hands with us all and started, looking back every ten feet until
he was out of sight, then he seemed to double his speed until he was
out of hearing.
While the sun was yet an hour high we started on our way, keeping in
the woods until dark, then passing west of Potosi, by traveling all
night, we reached a point near the town of Centreville, in Reynolds
county, where we obtained feed for ourselves and horses.
In traveling down Black river late one evening we ran into a squad of
Federals, six in number, whom we charged in a furious manner, firing
on them with our revolvers. They did not return our fire, but ran most
gloriously. We killed one and captured two more; those we captured
stated that they belonged to Leeper‘s command; this being the case of
course we shot them.
We took their horses and arms, made another night‘s journey, and
arrived safely in Green county, Arkansas. There I found a dispatch
for me from Gen. Sterling Price, requesting me to take charge of the
advance guard of his army, as he was “going up to possess Missouri,” to
which I most gladly consented on conditions that I would be released as
soon as we should reach the vicinity of my old home on Big river.
CHAPTER XXX.
Commanded the advance guard in Price‘s raid.—The Federals
burn Doniphan.—Routed them completely.—Captured some at
Patterson.—Killed Abright at Farmington.—Left Price‘s
army.—Killed four Federals.—Maj. Montgomery storms Big River
Mills.—Narrow escape from capture.
It is not my purpose to give a history of Price‘s raid into Missouri
further than to narrate a few facts connected with my own operations.
In September, 1864, by request, I took charge of the advance guard
after all arrangements were made for the grand campaign. The dispatch
that came to me, having stated that General Price designed taking
Missouri and holding it, I felt that a great honor was conferred upon
me, and was pleased beyond measure with the prospect of being once more
enabled to triumph over my enemies and to peaceably establish myself at
the home of my childhood, among the blissful scenes of my earlier years.
While these day-dreams were passing through my excited imagination, I
repaired to the designated point and found that my command consisted
of a party of ragged Missourians, about forty in number, some of whom
I knew. Keeping pace with the main body of the army, we traveled not
more than fifteen miles each day. Nothing of importance occurred until
we reached the town of Doniphan in Ripley county, Missouri; when, on
approaching the place, we discovered large volumes of smoke arising
from the town. We put spurs to our horses and hastened into the place
as soon as possible; finding that the Federals in evacuating the
place, had set fire to every house but one, and that belonged to a
Federal officer, we concluded that it had better burn also. We arrived
in time to save the mill which seemed to have burned very slowly.
It appears that McNeal‘s and Leeper‘s men were on their way to burn
up our Green County Confederacy, but ascertaining that Price was on
his march for Missouri they set fire to the town and decamped. We
pursued and overtook them before they got to Greenville, had a little
skirmish, lost two men killed and four wounded, captured sixteen
Federals and shot them, rushed on to the town of Patterson, captured
eleven negroes and seven white men in Federal uniform and shot them.
While the main army advanced slowly I scouted in front of it with my
command; but Federals and Union men were very scarce; I still held the
advance however, passing through Greenville, Bloomfield, Fredericktown
and Farmington; all of which were evacuated before our arrival, and
through which I passed with my force without molesting anyone with one
exception. On reaching Farmington no resistance was offered; the people
were somewhat alarmed, but all surrendered quietly except a German,
named Abright, who ran when we approached, refused to halt, and was
shot of course.
Finally, reaching the Iron Mountain Railroad at Mineral Point, we
tore up the road, burned several bridges, and tore down the telegraph;
but finding no one to kill, I left the command, according to previous
agreement, and hastened to the neighborhood of my personal enemies.
Finding none of them there to kill I employed myself in recruiting
for the Southern army, and succeeded in the short space of six days
in getting a full company, who were sworn in, and under Capt. Holmes
went into the Southern service. While laboring for the cause of the
South I was at the residence of Maj. Dick Berryman at the stone house
in Bogy‘s Lead Mines, near Big river, with a portion of Capt. Holmes‘
men, when four Federals who had escaped from the fort at Ironton during
the siege, came along the road; with but little difficulty we effected
their capture, shot them and threw their bodies into a mineral hole.
The main army did not remain long in our section of country; Gen.
Price indeed was a great military chieftain, but his present campaign
through Missouri seemed to lack design; from the time he entered the
State until he left it, he garrisoned no posts in the rear. Pilot
Knob, the terminus of the railroad from St. Louis and the depot for
supplies for all Southeast Missouri was taken, and then abandoned
on the next day; he made his way to Missouri river and then up that
stream in the direction of Kansas for several hundred miles without
molestation leaving St. Louis, the great commercial key of the West,
almost “spoiling to be taken.” The great Missouri chieftain left St.
Louis to his right, while the heavy force at that place were quietly
taking possession of the abandoned posts in his rear. If he had
joined the “Independent Bushwhacking Department of the Confederate
States of America” with all his men, in less than thirty days there
would not have been a Federal soldier west of the Mississippi. While
Maj. Berryman and a few other officers stayed in St. Francois county
recruiting, the main army gained the Missouri river and was quietly
making a blind march in the direction of Idaho.
The Federal forces took possession of the Iron Mountain railroad, and
on one pleasant afternoon in October, our new recruits armed with their
shot guns and squirrel rifles were run into by Maj. Montgomery of the
Sixth Missouri Cavalry and completely routed, in which their loss
was seven killed and all the balance missing. Montgomery also killed
several citizens, whose names were Fite, Vandover, and Judge Haile, the
father of Irvine M. Haile, who was previously murdered by Milks‘ men.
On the day before Maj. Montgomery routed the new recruits at Big River
Mills, I went with some men to Cadet on the railroad and took from the
store of Mr. Kellerman a wagon load of goods which I delivered up to
Maj. Berryman, who distributed them among his men. Maj. Montgomery,
with two companies of the Sixth Missouri Cavalry, struck our trail
and followed us nearly into camp; but when he ran into the pickets
they obeyed the orders I had previously given, and ran in a different
direction from the camp, thereby leading the Federals away from our
squad of raw recruits, and giving them time to escape. I was not at
Big River Mills when Montgomery stormed the place, but was at St.
Joseph Lead Mines, when he passed. I was sitting on my horse talking
to a lady, when the first thing that I saw of them they were within
a few yards of me; I assumed an air of unconcern and continued the
conversation; on discovering that they were eyeing me very closely,
I turned my horse and rode within a few feet of the column in the
direction they were going, talking back to the lady until I was too far
off to continue the conversation. I then found myself near a lieutenant
whom I addressed as captain, asking him in a very awkward manner if he
was going to Big River Mills to drive the Rebels off, which he answered
in the affirmative. I told him that I would like to help if I had a
gun, but he told me very curtly that he wanted no men who were not
drilled. My horse seemed to be a little lame and I gradually fell back,
talking all the time to the man opposite me until the last one had
passed. I kicked and “cussed” my horse to try to keep up but I could
not do it. On getting about one hundred yards behind I availed myself
of an opportunity at a turn in the road and took to the woods; the
lameness of my horse was very much improved, but I could not beat them
into the town; however, I knew that the pickets would lead them off
some other way. They did so, but were overtaken and killed at the ford
above the mill pond.
The new recruits were within hearing of the guns and “broke for tall
timber.” The short sojourn of the Confederate forces in Missouri was
indeed a severe blow to the course I had marked out for myself. In my
excited imagination I had raised the veil and looked down the vista of
time, beheld the Southern arms triumphant, our country again restored
to peace and prosperity, and my little family and my aged mother
leaning upon my arm for support at the old homestead, surrounded by
all the endearments of our once happy days. But I was awakened from
my dream by the unhappy termination of Price‘s raid; it impressed my
mind very forcibly with the fact that the people of Missouri were tired
of the war and would sacrifice but little more at the shrine of their
political convictions. In fact a large majority of them were compelled
by circumstances beyond their control to remain at home and take their
chances. The atrocities committed in their midst by men professing
Union sentiments finally failed to elicit from them a casual remark.
When the war began, the American people were untutored in regard to the
cruelties of war; in fact, I am inclined to the opinion that there was
not a nation upon earth which had formed the most remote conception
of the cruelties of the American people, with all their boasted moral
and religious training. Even the words of political bias expressed in
times of peace, many years before the war commenced, while yet almost
the whole nation was of the same opinion, were treasured up and
resurrected against certain citizens, for which their lives were taken.
From a contemplation of this unwelcome subject I turned my mind, and
through my native woods I traveled alone to my home in Arkansas, with
my fond hopes crushed, and my spirits below zero.
CHAPTER XXXI.
Selected three men and went to Missouri to avenge the death of
Rev. William Polk.—Got ammunition in Fredericktown.—Killed the
German who informed on Polk.—Returned to Arkansas.
After recruiting our horses and making all necessary arrangements for
the comfort and convenience of my family in my absence, I selected
three men and started to Madison county, Missouri, for the express
purpose of killing the German who reported on preacher Polk, and by
whose instigation his murder, by the Union soldiers, had been brought
about.
That venerable Baptist minister, William Polk, was about seventy years
of age, and had been preaching for about forty years. As a christian
of unquestionable piety no man ever stood higher; as a citizen his
conduct was irreproachable, and as to his loyalty and patriotism it
never before was brought into question. From his lips no word had ever
dropped that could be construed into an expression of sympathy for the
Southern rebellion.
In the latter part of October, 1864, three Federal soldiers rode up to
his house to rob him first and then kill him.
They demanded his money which he gave up, amounting to twenty dollars,
he told them that he had no more, at which they replied that twenty
dollars was not enough to save his life.
They took him out of the yard, when a Federal soldier by the name of
Robert Manning shot him through the head.
Believing that the German informer was the most guilty one in this
transaction, I was willing to attempt his capture even at this
inclement season of the year.
Camping out in the woods was disagreeable; stopping at the houses of
our friends at night was extremely dangerous; and if a snow should
happen to fall, thereby exposing our trail to the Federals we would
be under the necessity of running a horse race for nearly two hundred
miles.
On reaching the St. Francis we found it considerably swollen from
recent rains higher up the river. I proceeded at once to swim it, and
arrived safely at the opposite bank, but my three men having entered
the river too near together their horses crowded each other, which
caused them to beat down with the current until one of my men named
Swan washed into a drift and came near being drowned before I could
pull off my coat and boots and swim to his rescue. I got to him in time
to pull him out on to a drift, but his horse washed under it and we saw
him no more.
After we had all got over we built a fire, dried our clothes and camped
for the night.
Swan did not feel well the next morning, so he concluded to make an
effort to get back to headquarters, while we proceeded on with our
journey, traveling only twenty or twenty-five miles per day, stopping
with our friends on the way.
On reaching Madison county we began to look out for Federal squads,
as there were two or three hundred troops quartered in Fredericktown.
My ammunition was getting very scarce and I felt as though I would be
compelled to stop and see my old friends in town. We secreted ourselves
and horses about a mile from the place, and as daylight was near at
hand we had to lay over for the day; on the following night I made my
way cautiously, and crawled into an alley near the residence of my
friend, when a dog espied me and tried to make me retreat; I tried to
negotiate with him, offering him as I thought everything that was fair,
but all to no purpose. About ten o‘clock, all things being favorable,
I went around to the opposite side of town and started in through
an open street, walking leisurely, but keeping near the buildings.
When I had got fairly into town I came suddenly on a Federal picket
at the corner of a block, who accosted me by inquiring: “Where are
you going, Bill?” I answered in a whisper “after some whisky;” “all
right” said he, “bring a fellow a snort.” By this time I was out of
whispering distance, and soon came to a large saloon on the corner,
passed around to the other side which was closed up, and amused myself
several minutes in looking in at the window. I saw quite a number of
the Federals, some playing cards, some amusing themselves in various
ways, and all of them seemed to be enjoying themselves very well. I
made my way to the house of my friend, climbed over the plank fence,
and gave a peculiar wrap at the back door which was well understood. I
got a lunch, some good brandy, plenty of ammunition, rations to last
two days, and some very important information. I went out through the
alleys as a matter of choice, the smaller dogs being posted in the
alleys and the larger ones in the streets. As the night was half spent
we went into the neighborhood of Mr. O‘Banyon and camped in the woods
until the next evening, when we made our way over to the German‘s who
was accused of laying the plot for the murder of Elder Polk.
Dressed in Federal uniform, we rode up to his house as the sun was
going down, were taken for Federal soldiers and received with a great
deal of cordiality. We had talked to him but a short time when the
subject of “Preacher Polk” was introduced. The German in a boastful
manner gave us the history of his transactions in the matter, fully
confirming his complicity in the murder. We marched him off into the
woods near the farm of Mr. North, where I talked all the Dutch language
to him that I knew, and after giving him distinctly to understand that
“hog killing time” had come, I shot him.
As soon as it was dark we rode back to the suburbs of Fredericktown for
the purpose of silencing a Union citizen of that place who had made
himself rather officious in reporting citizens for disloyalty, and for
accusing certain ones of having fed “Sam Hildebrand.”
I left one of my men with the horses, and taking the other, I went
into town and knocked at the door, our call was answered by a lady who
innocently told us that the man for whom we inquired had gone to St.
Louis, at which we politely bid her good night and left the town. We
hurried on to Castor creek to the house of a friend whose hospitalities
we enjoyed for several days, while we were endeavoring by every means
in our power to take in a certain man who lived in that neighborhood;
but the excitement we had raised by squelching the German rendered our
intended victim very shy. Finally we went to his house just after dark
one night and called for him, but his wife declared that he was not at
home. We made a diligent search through every room, but not finding
him we started for Cape Girardeau county for the purpose of obtaining
some supplies for the winter. We succeeded in getting all that we could
conveniently pack, and started for Arkansas. We saw but one squad
of Federals on our homeward trip; we were passing through Stoddard
county, east of Bloomfield, when a party of about ten came up behind
us, but they fired upon us before they got near enough to do any harm,
and by taking to the woods we made our escape. They might easily have
compelled us to throw away our goods to facilitate our flight, if they
had felt disposed to continue the pursuit. As it was they never got in
sight of us any more, and although our horses were much jaded we made
very good time until dark and then proceeded on more slowly. We swam
the St. Francis without much trouble and landed home safely.
I found my wife and children well, but Mr. Swan, whom I had rescued
from the turbid waters of the St. Francis had sickened and died during
our absence, and had been buried a few hours before our arrival.
CHAPTER XXXII.
Started with eight men on a trip to Arkansas river.—Hung a
“Scallawag” on White river—Went into Conway county.—Treachery
of a negro on Point Remove.—“Foot burning” atrocities.—Started
back and hung a renegade.
During the early part of the winter of 1864, several persons from the
vicinity of Lewisburg, Arkansas, came to our Headquarters and reported
trouble with the negroes and scallawags in that part of the State.
Lewisburg is a small town on the north side of the Arkansas river,
about fifty miles above Little Rock; the country around this place is
very fertile, and before the war, was inhabited by a wealthy class of
farmers of the highest cast of honor and intelligence, the most of whom
owned a large number of slaves. It seems that as soon as the ordinance
emancipating the slaves was enforced in that part of the country,
several scallawags from the free States, slipped in among the negroes,
whose especial duty seemed to be to incite the negroes to deeds of
villainy.
About Lewisburg they seemed to have been very successful in their
mission as insurrectionists, and the continued reports from that
quarter convinced us that a short campaign among them during the winter
might be beneficial. In January, 1865, I started with eight men, we
passed through Lawrence and Independence counties, and on reaching
the beautiful country bordering on White river, which had been in a
high state of cultivation before the war, but now sadly neglected, we
approached near the town of Batesville, when we learned that two or
three of the very animals we were hunting for were in that “neck of the
woods.” I left six of my men with our horses in a dense thicket, and
three of us started out separately to visit the negro cabins.
I had not proceeded far before I entered a dirty cabin of “colored
people,” whom I greeted very warmly. The household consisted of an
old man and woman, each about sixty years of age, and about six
others who were grown. The old man treated me with great politeness,
and would persist in calling me “Massa,” notwithstanding my repeated
objections. I talked to them some time on the subject of their freedom;
the old man gave me distinctly to understand that he considered their
condition much worsted by the change; but the youngsters seemed to be
in a high glee over their future prospects. I succeeded in gaining
their confidence by professing intense loyalty to their cause, and
ascertained beyond all doubt that a “Bosting man” had been through the
neighborhood to obtain their names and their pledges to support him for
Congress as soon as the war should close, with the solemn promise from
him that he would have all the land and the property of the whites
confiscated and given to them.
One of the boys showed me a paper which he said was a certificate
that he was to be the owner of the Anthony House in Little Rock. On
inquiring where I could find my “Bosting brother,” they told me that he
was “down about Lewisburg raising money from the Rebels to build school
houses for the colored people.”
After intimating that I was an officer of the Freedman‘s Bureau,
I was about to depart, when a tall, lank specimen of a genuine
Eastern philanthropist made his appearance at the door. After being
assured that I was “all right,” he remarked that he had been in
the neighborhood several days, and had made out a report of all
the property which would be confiscated as soon as he returned to
Washington. He proceeded to draw it out from the lining of his hat and
handed it to me to read, I fumbled about in my pockets for some time,
and then remarked that I had lost my spectacles; he then took the paper
and read it with a great deal of pomposity, commenting occasionally on
the names as he read them off.
I sanctioned the report heartily, and told him that it was bound to
win. He then remarked to the negroes that any assistance they could
render him in the way of money matters, would be thankfully received,
as he was working for their good alone. They contributed all the
money they had, which I think amounted to about six dollars. I arose
to depart, stating that I had promised to take dinner with some
colored friends about a mile from there, and insisted that my “brother
missionary” accompany me, to which he readily consented.
During our walk he laid before me many of his plots and plans, which
fully convinced me that he designated to excite the minds of the
negroes with the hope of ultimately expelling all the white people from
the State, except their immediate friends from the North.
We finally arrived at the place, but it proved to be a Rebel camp
instead of a negro cabin. On coming up to the boys my missionary seemed
to be badly alarmed, but made no show of resistance. We hung the
scallawag to a limb, where he remained until we got our dinner, then we
took him down and threw him into a hole of water, with a large stone
tied to his feet. We crossed White river at a ferry several miles below
Batesville, immediately after which we came suddenly upon a company of
twenty armed men dressed in citizen‘s clothes. As we were not posted
in regard to the state of affairs in that part of the State, we were
utterly at a loss to know to which side they belonged in this war.
We were first seen by a tall, awkward looking specimen of humanity,
who stepped out in front of us and questioned us about who we were and
where we were going.
He held in his hand a double-barreled gun large enough to have killed
all eight of us at one fire. Without answering his questions, as we
wished to take items before committing ourselves, I asked “where
is your Captain?” He replied that he was going to serve as captain
himself, and immediately made a remark that led us to understand that
they were merely a party starting out on a “bear hunt.”
At night we stopped at the Round Pond, and ascertained that there was
but little Union sentiment in that part of the State, and that we would
meet with no trouble from the Federals until we got into the counties
bordering on Arkansas river. We avoided a military camp at Clinton, not
knowing to a certainty whether they were Rebels or not.
We had no source of information upon which we could explicitly rely.
On arriving in Conway county we stayed all night with an old gentleman
on Point Remove; but being fearful that our horses might be stolen, we
concluded to sleep under a shed between the stable and the smokehouse.
About one o‘clock in the night we saw two negroes approaching the
smoke house very cautiously; after some little time they succeeded in
removing a log, when one of them crawled in. We made an attempt to
arrest the one on the outside, but he got away, followed by two shots,
which, however, missed him. A great consternation was produced in the
house, and out the old man came with a light. On taking our prisoner
out he made a clean breast of it; he confessed that he belonged to a
band of eight negroes, who were camped on the bank of Arkansas river,
between Point Remove and Gilmore‘s Landing; that they were led by a
white man, and were in the habit of robbing white people, and making
them tell where their money was concealed by burning their feet.
On the next morning he consented to pilot us to the place where they
were camped; but instead of taking us directly to the place, he took us
a mile around through the cane, and finally brought us back to within
two hundred yards of where we had been before, and then pointed to
their camp. Here it was, sure enough, but the birds had flown.
For this trick the body of a dead negro was soon discovered floating
down the muddy river.
I was much mortified in thus failing to squelch the foot-burning
scallawag who was leading the negroes on to such acts of cruelty; but
he succeeded in getting away and is no doubt by this time in Congress.
After remaining in the woods a few miles from Lewisburg for several
days without being able to do any good toward ferreting out the
“foot-burners,” we started back through Van Buren and Izard counties
without molesting any one until we got near a little town called
Mount Olive, where we captured a man whom we accidentally met in the
road. Several of my men knew him, and stated that he had been run off
from Bloomfield, Missouri, for professing loyalty during the second
year of the war, and thus betraying the confidence his neighbors had
hitherto placed in him. He was also accused of having had a man shot
near Bloomfield, by reporting on him; this accusation he virtually
acknowledged after we had captured him.
We took him a few hundred yards from the road, hung him to a limb, and
proceeded on through Lawrence county to our old headquarters.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
Gloomy prospects for the South. Takes a trip to Missouri with
four men. Saved from capture by a woman. Visits his mother
on Big river. Robs the store of J. V. Tyler at Big River
Mills.—Escapes to Arkansas.
I had a long conversation with Capt. Bolin, who had just returned from
an expedition on the head waters of Current river, concerning the
probable termination of the war.
He was a man of considerable intelligence, and I always noticed on his
return from a raid his pockets were stuffed full of Yankee newspapers.
I found him sitting on a log deeply absorbed in examining his
miscellaneous pile of news.
“Well, Captain! what‘s the news from the North? Are they ready to give
it up yet?”
“Give it up, indeed! Sam, the war is very near to a close.”
“I thought so! I knew they could not hold out much longer; I suppose
we have killed nearly half of them; I hope they will grin and bear it
until we get another swipe at them!”
“I rather think they will! but Sam, it is the South which is going
under; her fate is already sealed.”
“What makes you think so?”
“I think so because the great armies of the Confederacy are crippled
and almost annihilated; their whole country is overrun and impoverished
by immense Northern armies; I fear that our great chieftains, will be
compelled to yield, and when they go under, our little fighting here
must also stop.”
“Ah, Captain, you get that from your Yankee papers; I can‘t believe
anything that they contain.”
I must acknowledge however, that I was somewhat staggered by Capt.
Bolin‘s candid remarks. I immediately selected four men, being
determined to make another trip to see whether the Federals had
literally swallowed up the whole country or not.
We made our way up Black river, thinking that we would be very likely
to make the trip on that route without ever seeing a Federal.
One evening, on the first day of March, 1865, after remaining in a
thicket nearly all day, we concluded to approach the house of a friend
with whom we had stopped on a previous trip. A terrible rain storm was
coming up, and we thought we could leave our horses where they were and
repair to the house for shelter until the rain should cease.
Our friend was from home; he had gone toward Springfield to look after
his son whom he feared had been murdered by some of the roving bands
of Federals. We learned from the good woman that none of the enemy had
passed that road for a long time; so feeling perfectly safe we repaired
to the barn intending to get a little sleep, but took the precaution to
crawl up into the loft and over the hay into a low place near the wall.
Directly after dark we were awakened by the noise of a large empty
wagon that was driven up to the barn, just under our window; on peeping
out the truth flashed across our minds in an instant that not less than
fifty Federal soldiers were in the barn yard all around us; but on
watching their maneuvers a few minutes, we became satisfied that they
knew nothing of our presence.
The barn floor below us was soon full of them, and in a few minutes
eight or ten of them crawled up through the window on to the hay and
rolled up in their blankets, between us and the window. Our escape
seemed impossible; we could not slip out at the window without stepping
on the soldiers; we might indeed lay still and escape detection for a
while, but we knew full well that as soon as it was light enough they
would load their wagon with the hay and be sure to discover us. For
once I was at my wit‘s end.
In this predicament we lay for two long hours, when all at once we
heard the alarm of fire; our good woman was calling lustily for help.
In the corner of the yard about fifty feet from the house there stood
a little cabin that had once been her dwelling house but which was now
used as a kind of receptacle for old boxes and barrels.
This house was in flames, and we learned afterwards that she set it
on fire herself to draw the soldiers from the barn so that we might
effect our escape. In this she succeeded admirably; every one broke for
the fire and prevented it from catching the main building, while we
made our escape without any trouble whatever. We took a long breath of
relief, mounted our horses and made one good night‘s travel. Passing
near the town of Buford then west of Fredericktown, we arrived in the
vicinity of Flat Woods and remained concealed in a thick forest during
the day. In the evening, two of my men who were dressed in Federal
uniform, wandered off from the camp and were discovered by a citizen
named John Myers, who mistook them for Union soldiers and immediately
commenced telling them how, thus far, he had succeeded in deceiving
the Rebels. He handed them a sheet of paper on which he had written
out a full report of his success in ferreting out the friends of Sam
Hildebrand in that neighborhood. He stated that he was in the habit of
reporting to the Rebels also, and to prove the matter he drew from his
pocket a half worn paper purporting to be an account of the Federal
movements in that section of country. He manifested a great desire for
my capture, and when they told him that I had actually been captured
and was a prisoner at their camp near by, he waved his hat and shouted
like an Indian. They brought him into camp to satisfy his curiosity;
but on discovering that I was not tied he started to retreat, but was
stopped by my men. As soon as night began to approach we shot him and
proceeded on toward Big river, but stopped in the pinery northwest from
Farmington, where we remained two days. On leaving there we took supper
with a friend near Big River Mills and proceeded down the river to the
old Hildebrand homestead.
During Price‘s raid into that section of country I left word for my
enemies that they should build my mother another house at the old
homestead in lieu of the one they had burned, otherwise, I would burn
the last one of them out. Some of my friends however, seeing that they
were slow about commencing it, and wishing perhaps to screen them, met
together and in a very short time built her a cabin, which answered her
purpose very well for a temporary abode. Into this cabin she removed,
and there I found her on the night of March 6th, 1865. I left my men
and horses in a secure place near by, and quietly approached the
premises where once had been the happy home of my childhood. It was
late in the night when I called at the door, but my mother had not yet
retired; knowing my voice she laid her spectacles upon her open bible
where she had been reading, and softly opened the door. Her motherly
arms entwined around my neck, the same arms that had so often lulled me
to sleep in my innocent childhood, that had so often clasped me to her
bosom and made me feel secure from all the dangers and storms of life.
My heart beat strangely as all those dear scenes and all the events of
my life in one short minute crowded through my memory. I could not help
contrasting her own condition at that happy period with the cheerless
present. As she took her seat I could not help noticing the calm
serenity of her countenance; a quiet resignation seemed to pervade her
nature. Considering the terrible loss that her kind heart had sustained
in the cruel death of her three boys, and in the utter uprooting of
all her cherished hopes in this world, I was at a loss to account for
it, and was about to express my wonder when she seemed to divine my
thoughts before my question was formed, and with a slight motion of her
hand toward the bible, she said in a faltering tone: “My dear boy! you
are more unhappy than I am!” The remark was so true, that I wished I
had the power to obliterate the past, and to commence life again as a
little frolicsome boy around my mother‘s chair.
I remained with her most of the time during the next day. It was her
impression that the war was near its close; that the triumph of the
Union cause was almost complete, and she insisted strongly that when
the Southern soldiers should lay down their arms, that I with the rest
would yield obedience to the government and claim its protection.
I was so softened by this interview with my mother, that I almost
forgot my enemies; and I made up my mind to return to Arkansas without
killing any one if I could do so with safety to myself.
But it was necessary that I and my men should take some goods with
us, for our families, at this time, were rather needy; and believing
that friends as well as foes should bear a part of the burden of our
suffering families, inasmuch as all our energies had been directed to
the accomplishment of an object which they so strenuously contended was
right, we concluded to make a small raid into the town of Big River
Mills that my friends might still know we were on the war path. We
started late in the evening and kept along the main road, arriving in
town between sundown and dark. We went to the store of J. Y. Tyler, and
helped ourselves to such articles as we actually needed. After mounting
our horses we did not remain long to see the balance of our friends,
but hurried on all that night to get as far beyond the gravel road at
night as possible.
We lay up to rest ourselves during the day; but about two o‘clock in
the evening, we discovered a considerable force of Federals on our
track; they came to the place where our trail commenced winding around
the hill, and there they began to move very cautiously.
I plainly saw from their movements that they had learned my trick of
making a circuit before camping; this being the case I determined to
escape by the same knowledge. We started very cautiously down the hill
in an opposite direction, rode about three miles, made another circuit
and went on in a great hurry. Every few miles we made a similar curve,
but continued on, and by the time they had crept cautiously up to the
last place we were far beyond their reach.
We had no further trouble with the Federals, and reached Arkansas with
all our goods.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
Started to Missouri with three men. Surrounded at night near
Fredericktown. Narrow escape by a cunning device. Retired to
Simms‘ Mountain. Swapped horses with Robert Hill and captured
some more. Killed Free Jim and kidnapped a negro boy.
About the first of April, 1865, I started to Missouri with four men,
one of whom was Tom Haile. We passed west of Bloomfield, and made an
attempt to take in a German living in the edge of Wayne county, whose
name I never could pronounce. He had rendered himself rather obnoxious
to us by his officiousness in carrying news to the Federal authorities.
On going up to his house about sunrise, thinking to find him asleep,
we made no attempt at concealment, but marched directly up toward the
front of his house; when we got within a hundred and fifty yards of
the house he ran out and struck across a little field; we fired our
guns at him, shooting one at a time; every time we fired he squalled
like a panther, which tickled Tom Haile so well he could not shoot, but
laughed about as loud as the Dutchman yelled. We made no attempt to
pursue him, as we cared very little about him any way. We marched on
toward Fredericktown, reaching that place one morning about daybreak,
and secreted ourselves for the day, during which time Haile went into
Fredericktown.
After tying up an old coat in a dirty cotton handkerchief, and swinging
it on a stick which he carried on his shoulder, he walked into town,
passing himself off for a lame Irishman who wanted a job for a few
days; he found some soldiers there, but did not learn their number.
While in town he met several acquaintances who kindly passed him
without recognition.
It appears, however, that in the morning as we were passing Mr. Blake‘s
farm we were discovered by some one and reported to the soldiers.
A company was ordered out to guard a gap where we were in the habit of
passing, and we distinctly heard their horses‘ feet on the gravel road
as they passed our retreat where we lay concealed in the thick forest
awaiting the approach of night.
Immediately after dark we started, but on crossing the gravel road two
shots were fired at us from a short distance; we dashed through the
thick brush, but my horse soon got tangled in a grapevine, and the boys
all left me, vainly endeavoring to get him along.
The firing became very rapid. In riding through the thick tangled brush
I made too much noise, and the first thing I knew I was completely
surrounded, though their lines as yet were at some distance.
Having no time to lose I quickly dismounted, dropped the bridle rein
over a snag, and ran back about one hundred yards; I stepped behind a
bush and remained very quiet, knowing if I fired they would see the
flash of my pistol.
They were closing up in regular order toward the point where my horse
stood. I waited until they were within ten steps of me, then facing
toward the horse which now gave a snort, I gave a few steps, then in a
low but commanding tone, I cried out: “Advance with more caution! they
can hear you a mile!” By this time I was in their line, and under the
pretense of correcting some irregularity in their movements, I stepped
behind them and got away without creating the least suspicion.
Being next discovered by the guard who were holding the horses, I told
them that we had the bushwhackers all surrounded, and that to make a
sure thing we must have more men.
Mounting the best looking horse I could find by the dim light of the
moon, I started toward Fredericktown in a great hurry; but when out of
danger I changed my course for Simms‘ mountain in St. Francois county,
the place designated for our meeting in case of trouble.
The Federals probably captured my horse, but that was no loss to me,
for I had obtained a much better one.
I rode all night and a part of the next day by myself before I reached
our place of rendezvous. My men were not there, and as the day wore
away I began to fear that some misfortune had befallen them; but they
made their appearance after dark, and reported that the Federals had
given them a severe chase; immediately after which they met a squad of
Federals who chased them the other way.
Simms‘ Mountain is a very high elevation of land scarcely ever visited
except by hunters at certain seasons of the year. It looms up above the
other hills, affording a fine view of the whole surrounding country.
While we lay here Tom Haile took a trip to Iron Mountain to learn the
news at the military camp, and to get some provisions. After getting
near the place he left his horse and his arms in the woods, stopped at
an old coal pit to smut his face and his hands, and then went into town
disguised as a collier, of whom there were many in the neighborhood.
While purchasing some provisions at a store he learned that “five
hundred soldiers had Sam Hildebrand surrounded in a thicket from which
it was impossible for him to escape.”
This was good news, for it would enable us to make a raid on Big river
in broad daylight with perfect impunity. We passed down Flat river
during the latter part of the night, crossed Big river at the Haile
Ford and rode into town just as the sun was rising. Finding no goods
there that suited us we continued along the main road until we got to
the residence of our good Union friend, Robert Hill. We wished to make
him a friendly visit and swap off some of our horses, for Tom Haile
dissuaded me from doing him any personal injury.
I took two of his best horses and left two in their place; we charged
him some boot, but had to take it in clothing and such articles from
the house as we could make use of.
On leaving there we turned south and passed along the most public road
four or five miles until we came to Nesbit Orton‘s. We took a fancy to
a couple of mares that some neighbors had there, one belonging to Tom
Highley and the other to Tom Crunkleton. The mare, however, which we
took from the latter did not like Rebels, for on getting a few miles I
concluded that she would make a splendid war horse; but she threw all
my men, one at a time, and when I was about to try my luck she gave a
snort, broke away from us and made her escape.
Tom Haile had remained behind to visit some of his friends on Big
river, and did not overtake us until we got to Cook settlement.
I and my other men continued to travel along the road until we reached
the shanty belonging to an old free negro by the name of Jim. He had
made himself the dread of Southern sympathizers in his neighborhood by
frequently visiting the different military posts with various charges
against them, such as feeding bushwhackers, etc.
To satisfy myself in regard to his complicity in the matter, we rode up
to his cabin, each one being dressed in Federal uniform.
On calling him out I gave him a hearty shake of the hand, and
inquired if he had learned anything more about that man Madkins he
was telling me about at the Knob; at this the old negro imagined
that he recognized me as Col. ——, and asked me what I had done with
my shoulder-straps; to which I replied that I wanted to find out a
few things for myself, and enjoined secrecy on him in regard to my
disguised appearance.
He made charges against several of the best men in the neighborhood,
which was calculated to consign them to summary punishment according to
Federal usage.
After making his statements, he asked me if I was still willing to take
his son for a waiting boy; I told him that I was, and that I designed
taking him along with me this time, having brought a horse for that
purpose. He called the boy out and told him to mount the horse, which
he at first refused to do; but after I had got the old negro to mount
another horse for the purpose of going with us a few miles, the boy
consented and seemed very well reconciled.
After going about two miles I shot old Jim, but took the boy on with us.
We stopped near the residence of Francis Clark, in Cook settlement, to
get our dinners; and while there some Federals came along, but seeing
us they turned off the road and went around without molesting us. We
proceeded on without any further trouble, but traveled altogether in
the night.
On reaching the St. Francis we found it still out of its banks; we,
however, succeeded in swimming it by resting our horses on an island
about half way. From there we arrived safely at home, and for the
first time in my life I owned a negro. I was to all intents and
purposes a genuine slaveholder.
Immediately after I left Big river on my last raid, Robert Hill became
satisfied that, as I took his horses, he could no longer pass himself
off for a Rebel and a Union man at the same time. He was a member both
of the “Knights of the Golden Circle” and the “Union League.” A few
days after I “_swapped_ horses” with him, he went before the provost
marshal, at Potosi, and represented that in consequence of his Union
sentiments he could not live at home on Big river without a band of
soldiers for his protection.
Failing, however, in his purpose, he went to Ironton and made a similar
statement to the provost marshal at that place. Certain Union men,
however, who knew all the facts in the case, represented the whole
matter as arising from personal enmity against Dr. A. W. Keith and
others.
Thwarted again in his designs, he was left a few days to muse over his
misfortunes; but a bright idea finally came to his relief: He would
expose the “Knights of the Golden Circle,” and consign his brother
members to an indiscriminate butchery!
The war was nearly at an end; the Union cause was about to triumph; and
one string was enough to play on during the balance of the struggle.
He would startle the world by his disclosures; the earth should be
dumbfounded, and mankind should stand aghast at the magnitude of his
revelations! He sought and obtained a private interview with the
provost marshal. At this time the sun was serenely smiling upon the
earth; spring had just made her advent, and was strewing garlands of
flowers along the meadows and sunny hillsides, as if nothing was about
to happen; and men throughout the world, unmindful of what was about to
take place, were plodding on in their daily pursuits.
All things being now ready, he told the marshal that he was a member
of the Union League. This announcement was a satisfactory proof of his
loyalty, for this Northern KuKlux League was instituted to save the
National Union secretly.
He then stated that, for the good of his country, he had also joined
the Knights of the Golden Circle; that the Circle met at the house of
Joseph Herrod, on Big river, and that many of the leading men in that
neighborhood were members.
The patriotic motives of Robert Hill will be very apparent to the
reader, when I state that at the outbreak of the rebellion, when he
joined the Golden Circle, he was a slaveholder, and utterly pro-slavery
in sentiment.
How pure, then, must have been his motives when, for the good of his
country, even at that early day, he bound himself with oaths like
adamant for the purpose of finally exposing the Circle, as soon as it
should have run its race and become defunct!
If the Southern Confederacy had won, his patriotism would have prompted
him to expose the Union League; and when the last expiring beacon of
Federal hope was about to be extinguished, he probably would have
called for troops to crush the members of the Union League to which he
belonged!
The representations he made to the provost marshal had the desired
effect; a telegram was sent to Col. Beverage, at Cape Girardeau, who
sent Lieutenant Brown, with forty men, to Big River Mills.
The statement made by Hill, however, needed confirmation. It was
desirable to prove the charges by some one whose word, on account of
the color of his skin, could never for a moment be doubted.
A negro man by the name of Buck Poston lived in the neighborhood;
his skin was black enough for him to be considered perpetually under
oath, so they repaired immediately to his domicil, for the purpose of
implicating certain persons as belonging to the Golden Circle.
Brown and his men put a rope around his neck, and tried to frighten
him into a belief that he would be hung unless he confirmed Hill‘s
statements. But Buck was a brave man, and answered “no” to each one of
Hill‘s accusations against his neighbors.
Finally they told him that he was now about to be hung, and appealed
to him to know if he did not love his wife and children, and urged him
just to say “yes,” and live; but the old man replied: “Well, Massa, I
does know some little things; but I‘s gwine to take it all to t‘other
world with me!” Neither persuasions, threats, the glittering of
bayonets, nor the prospect of death, could make him divulge anything.
The color of his skin, however, saved his life, and his tormentors had
nothing to do but to return to camp. During the night following he gave
warning to those whom he knew to be in danger.
On the next day, May 14, 1865, Lieut. Brown took four men, rode up to
the house of Mr. Joseph Herrod, and found him at home. They ordered
him to get his horse and go with them to Farmington. He did so, but
on getting half a mile from the house, they took him twenty or thirty
steps from the road and shot him through the back of the head. There
they left him, where he was found the next day.
Thus perished a young man who, for kindness of heart, strict integrity,
and moral honesty had no superiors, and but few equals.
Before proceeding any further with the slaughter, Lieut. Brown went and
consulted with Franklin Murphy, who told him that the whole matter was
the result of a neighborhood difficulty, which did not warrant Federal
interference in any manner whatever.
Brown and his men, during their stay on Big river, were engaged in a
wholesale robbery and plunder of the citizens, taking their property
without even a promise to pay. Their depredations were even more
intolerable than the same number of hostile Indians would have been;
but after Brown had been better informed as to the true nature of
affairs he became half civilized, and on taking property he gave
government vouchers. These debts against the government, however, were
finally rejected, the people having been reported as disloyal. Even
the widow Baker lost over one hundred dollars by some one reporting her
as a Southern sympathizer.
After feasting off of the neighborhood for about two months, Brown and
his infamous band of vandals took their departure. The conspiracy,
founded on the marvelous revelation of a broken oath, and emanating
from the fertile brain of base malignity, suddenly collapsed.
CHAPTER XXXV.
Trip to Missouri with four men.—Attempt to rob Taylor‘s
store.—Fight with Lieut. Brown and his soldiers.—Killed
Miller and Johnson at Flat Woods.—Return home from his last
raid.—The war is pronounced to be at an end.—Reflections on the
termination of the war.—Mrs. Hildebrand‘s advice.—The parole at
Jacksonport.
When the war first broke out in Missouri, and after the persecutions
against the Hildebrand family had become so intolerable that I was
compelled to flee the country, I owed a small debt to D. W. Taylor, a
merchant living at Valley‘s Mines, in Jefferson county.
After the mob had destroyed my property and driven me into the Southern
army for protection, it was impossible for me to pay the debt during
the struggle.
In all communities there are “land sharks” who are willing to befriend
an intended victim to a certain extent, but who are ready at the first
approach of an unforseen disaster to gobble up his lands.
In this instance, Taylor attached my interest in the Hildebrand
homestead, and while the country was in the ebullition of civil war,
had it sold at public vendue, bidding it in himself for a mere nominal
sum.
For this little piece of ingenuity I now determined to award him with a
clear title to another small tract of land, four feet by six, to have
and to hold, as his own individual possession, until Gabriel should
blow his horn.
With this intention, on the 28th day of April, 1865, I started with
four men for another raid into Missouri. We made our way quietly and
cautiously through the southern counties of Missouri, all of which were
now held by Federal soldiers, for the protection of the citizens—the
_protection_, however, being the same kind that the vulture gave the
lamb.
Reaching Big river late in the night, we repaired to the Pike Run hills
and slept until morning. Knowing that we would be more apt to catch
Taylor in daytime, we started in the morning and rode over to Taylor‘s
store, which was distant only about six miles. He was not at home, and
having no time to lose, we went into his store and commenced selecting
such goods as we wanted, when we were suddenly run on to by some
Federal soldiers, under Lieut. Brown, from Perry county, but who was
at that time stationed at Big River Mills, with forty men, one-half of
whom he had with him on the present occasion.
They came up within two hundred yards of the store, and commenced
firing and yelling at a terrible rate. We ran out to our horses,
which were tied to the brush not more than forty yards off, but on
the opposite side from the soldiers. One of my men was killed by an
accidental shot, and another one who happened to be a new recruit left
his horse and ran off through the woods, leaving me with an _army_ of
only two men, besides myself, to repel the attack of twenty regulars.
The Federals, however, after their first fire, took refuge behind some
old houses about one hundred and fifty yards off, and from there showed
us a very harmless and cowardly fight. After I gained my horse, I used
him for a fortification and shot several rounds at them; occasionally I
could see one‘s head bob around a corner, but they were out of range,
and my shots fell harmless to the ground. My other two men now left me
alone, and for several minutes I remained, trying to get a dead shot at
one of the Federals; but having no chance to do so, without charging
them by myself, I mounted my horse and retreated, leaving my dead man
upon the ground, whom they charged and shot several times after I left.
I went on to an adjoining hill, but failing to find my men, I rattled
my cow bell, which I had with me for emergencies of this kind, and in
half an hour my three men were with me.
Having made a complete failure, it is not unreasonable to suppose that
we felt very much chagrined at our ill luck, and knowing that if we
started south then, we would be annoyed by Federals on our trail, we
repaired again to the Pike Run hills for safety, where we could easily
have whipped all the forces within the three surrounding counties. My
comrade who was on foot went about four miles to the house of an old
acquaintance and obtained a horse, by promising to return him again in
six weeks; which promise, I will here state, he afterwards faithfully
performed.
It was now about the middle of May, and we were anxious to be on our
way back; so we started one night and went as far as Flat Woods.
Before McIlvaine and the soldiers had driven me from there, I became
acquainted with two men, George Miller and Joseph Johnson, who
professed great friendship for me; but some time after my expulsion
from that neighborhood, they visited my house and used abusive language
to my wife, making threats what they intended to do with me. Johnson
had the impudence to remark that he intended to kill me and bring my
head to her swinging to the horn of his saddle.
These were not vain threats, for they watched for me for a long time;
but after they learned a little more about me, they were very shy, and
up to the present time I had never got my eyes upon either of them.
Late in the evening, on the next day after our arrival in the
neighborhood, as I was passing a house I saw a lady dressing some
butter, and wishing for a good drink of buttermilk, I alighted a
moment and went in the house. As I was dressed in Federal uniform, the
good woman asked me if I was hunting for Sam Hildebrand; on telling
her that I was, she went on to give me the particulars of our affray
at Taylor‘s store, ascribing to the Federal arms the most brilliant
victory, by stating that “Lieut. Brown, with only twenty men, ran upon
Hildebrand‘s Bushwhackers and completely routed them, killing fourteen
and wounding several more; a great many soldiers are now after him,
and have him surrounded in a place where he can never get back here to
bother us again!” I asked her if she would please give Sam Hildebrand a
drink of buttermilk? She looked at me a moment and then replied: “Yes,
sir; you can have all in the churn if you want it.”
Not long after leaving there, I found Mr. Miller in his field, and
shot him. After night I found Mr. Johnson at home, took him out of the
house, and cut off his head with my bowie knife.
The reader will perceive that the threats of Johnson would have been
completely reversed if I had carried his head to his wife swinging
to the horn of my saddle; but instead of imitating his designs any
further, I leisurely pursued my way home to our headquarters in Green
county, Arkansas.
On the next day after my arrival at home, Capt. Bolin called on me and
stated that he wished us all to meet him at headquarters that evening
at three o‘clock. At the time appointed I was there, and so were about
forty more of the boys, most of whom had just returned from their
various scouts.
The Captain seemed a little agitated, and for several minutes after we
were all assembled he did not say a word. Presently he began, and these
are about his words:
“GENTLEMEN: It is my wish that we remain quietly at
headquarters a few days until my other scouting parties return.
“I wish to say to you now that, in my opinion, this war has virtually
closed. General Lee, the great head and front of all our hopes, as you
are already aware, was compelled to succumb to superior numbers, and
surrender on the 12th day of April. General Johnston surrendered on the
18th of the same month. The hopes held out by General Kirby Smith in
his general order issued at Shreveport can never be realized.
“The Southern Confederacy is at an end; our course must be governed by
circumstances over which we have no control.
“The course we have pursued during the struggle is only justified by
the fact that a great war existed. While the eyes of the world have
been riveted on great actors and on events of an astounding magnitude,
the minor details of the struggle have been overlooked. That condition
of affairs now no longer exists; the war has ceased, and our operations
must cease also.
“Finally, it is my request that each and every one of you submit
manfully to the same terms that have been forced upon our great
chieftains; that is: Lay down your arms, surrender on parole, and
return to the pursuits of peace.”
This little speech fell like a wet blanket on most of the men, and I
must confess that I was one of that number; but we held Capt. Bolin in
such high esteem that not a murmur of dissent was suffered to drop
from the lips of any of his men.
On the next day, however, the matter was fully discussed in every camp.
Nine-tenths of the men fully indorsed the statements made by our noble
captain, and I could not but acknowledge that his reasoning seemed
plausible; yet I was annoyed beyond all measure by the reflection that
the war had suddenly ceased before I was done fighting.
I cared not so much about the general result. I knew but little, and
cared still less, about the great political problem that the war was
supposed to have solved, nor to the technical question discussed by
old fossil statesmen, whether the States formed the Union or the
Union formed the States, whether the South had inherent rights or
whether inherent rights had the South, whether the General Government
was a restricted agent of the people, or whether the people were the
restricted agents of the General Government.
These questions probably originated with the antediluvians, and they
ought to have been left to a committee of twelve Egyptian mummies, with
the “man in the moon” for chairman.
The practical question with me was, whether all the scoundrels in the
nation were yet killed off or not. As far as my knowledge extended, the
war had only gobbled up about one-tenth of them.
Most of those men who had composed the Vigilance mob on Big river were
yet alive. They were in the centre of military camps, crawling around
the feet of Federal officers, and whining for protection against my
vengeance.
To reach them it would be necessary to overthrow the Federal power;
just that far my heart was in the National war.
My mind was troubled by the reflection that as soon as the war should
be ended, all those cowardly miscreants would crawl out from their
hiding places, boast of their loyalty, make a grand rush for office,
swing their hats, and cry out: “Well, didn‘t _we_ whip them?”
I made up my mind that, for my part, I would take as many of the boys
as were determined never to surrender, escape to Texas if possible,
fight under Gen. Kirby Smith until he should surrender, and then make
our way into Mexico—there to annoy the Federal Government all I could
until I could get another “whack” at my old enemies.
I thought, however, that I would consult my wife for once, and see what
she thought about it. She looked serious for a minute, and then burst
out into a laugh.
“I once heard about some little boys,” said she, “who were left at home
by their parents, who had gone to church. One of them discovered a rat
which had taken refuge under a pile of lumber in the yard; but the boys
tore away the lumber, splitting about half the boards. The rat then ran
under the ash-hopper, and when that was torn down it took refuge under
the barn floor. One of the boys ran to the house for matches, in order
to burn out the rat; but his little sister, the youngest one in the
crowd, cried out: ‘If you burn the rat we will have no barn!‘ The boys
saw the force of her reasoning, and made peace with the rat. So I would
advise you to make no further efforts toward destroying the Federal
barn for such a purpose.”
I must confess that this little speech from my wife, given in such good
humor, contained a little more good sense than anything I had heard for
a long time.
It sounded a little like a Union speech, and seemed strange on that
account; but, although I had not at first the least idea of ever
swerving from my purpose, yet I now determined to follow her advice,
for I concluded that as she had waded through the hardships of war with
a devotion to me that has but few parallels in the history of mankind,
I ought to respect her comfort as well as my own.
On the next day I told Capt. Bolin that I consented to his arrangement.
He started on to Jacksonport to give in the list of his men, and I
started a few days afterwards to the same place, and received my parole
on the 26th day of May, 1865, the very day on which General Kirby Smith
surrendered at Shreveport.
The war now being over, I tried to banish the subject from my mind as
much as possible, and soon went to work on the place I still occupied,
for no owner had yet returned to claim it. Most of our men were afraid
to return to their homes in Missouri while a remembrance of our
depredations were still fresh in the minds of the people, and went to
farming in different parts of Green county.
With what I captured during the war I did not have more than half
as much property as I had lost by the hands of the Vigilance mob in
Missouri.
One might suppose that, from the name my enemies gave me, I might have
grown rich by my depredations during the war; but such was not the
fact; plunder was only a secondary consideration with me; I resorted to
it merely to sustain myself while I pursued my main leading object—that
of killing my enemies.
We sustained ourselves during the whole war off of our enemies. If
objections are made to that kind of warfare, I can point to the example
of Sherman, in Georgia, and to a host of other Federal commanders, both
great and small, even down to that pigmy lump of insignificance—the
Big River Militia. But, unlike those illustrious examples, we did
not charge our government with anything we captured; neither was I a
burden to the Confederacy to the amount of one dollar; neither did I
ever stoop so low as to become an incendiary, and burn out my enemies.
I left that for the Indians to do, and for those who saw proper to
imitate them.
So, at the close of the war, and in fact during its whole continuance,
I was poor, and my family were in straitened circumstances; but I
went to work and raised a good crop of corn and everything else that
we needed. In the spring of 1866 I rented another place in a better
locality, and farmed on a larger scale. This I also did on the year
following, and at the close of 1867 I had succeeded in rendering myself
and family as comfortable as could be expected.
The negro boy I had taken from Free Jim, in St. Francois county, still
remained with me; he was free, I suppose, but he seemed to prefer good
living and light work to “free starvation.”
CHAPTER XXXVI.
Imprisoned in Jacksonport jail.—Mrs. Hildebrand returns
to Missouri.—Escape from prison.—Final settlement in Ste.
Genevieve county.—St. Louis detectives make their first
trip.—The Governor‘s reward.—Wounded by Peterson.—Removed
to his uncle‘s.—Fight at John Williams‘.—Kills James
McLaine.—Hides in a cave.
Early in the spring of 1868 I put in a good crop of corn, and devoted
much of my time to gardening; my prospect looked flattering indeed,
and I fancied that I was getting along as well as any of my neighbors,
and better than most of them. My negro man worked cheerfully, and I
put in much of my time in “overseeing.” I claim that I was the last
slaveholder in the United States.
A circumstance now took place that destroyed my future prospect, and
cast a shadow over the happiness of my family. It is a circumstance
that I deeply deplore, and one, too, that I you‘d easily have avoided,
at the expense, perhaps, of losing one friend.
Early in the month of April one of my old war associates, with whom I
had passed many a hardship, came to my house and stated that he had
received bad news from home; that his sister had been deserted by her
husband without any cause, and that the fellow had taken up with a
negro woman, and was living with her not more than ten miles off. He
requested that I should aid him in taking the couple out and giving
them a good flogging.
The matter was talked over, and one of us might have made the remark
that they deserved to be tied together. This conversation was heard by
the wife of my friend; two or three days after which the guilty pair
were taken from a mill pond, drowned, and still tied together. After
the first excitement was over, nothing more was heard about the matter
for nearly six weeks. My friend‘s wife told all about the conversation,
and suspicion rested upon us.
Finally Major Surge, with three men, arrested us, and took us before
the authorities; the preliminary examination was had, and we were both
lodged in the jail at Jacksonport.
We were secured by handcuffs and by ball and chain. In this condition
it soon became apparent to us that our escape was impossible. Negroes
frequently passed our prison, and told us that we would be hung by a
mob.
We were loaded with chains, and so strongly guarded that I began to
doubt the ability of our friends to release us, even if they should
attempt it; in fact I began very strongly to doubt the probability of
their ever coming at all.
In June, my brother William, who had served during the war in the Union
army, came down to Arkansas, where my family was, for the purpose of
taking them back to Big river, in Missouri; for the probabilities were
that my wife would soon be left a widow. She sold the crop as it stood
on the ground for what she could get, and hired a teamster to haul the
family to Big river.
She made the trip in safety; arriving at the old homestead, she lived
with my mother and brother William. My prison life every day became
more intolerable. I had been in jail for four months, and had almost
abandoned all hopes of being released.
On the last day of August, as I lay brooding over my helpless
condition, some one, about dark, whispered in through the grates,
telling me to be of good cheer, for that on the following night his
friends were going to make an attempt to release me.
Fortunately for us, as our friends lay in wait on the next night, a
boat landed at the wharf, which attracted the attention of all those
who were yet up, and we were let out without any disturbance whatever.
I was so overjoyed at the idea of being free once more, that I leaped
off the platform in the dark and sprained my ankle. I was in a bad fix
for traveling, but we were soon out of danger. I rode until daylight;
then we all scattered, and each one took his own course. I hobbled
on in this way, living on nothing but May-apples until I made about
thirty-five miles, to the house of an old friend, where I remained
until I recruited up, and then I started to where my family was, in
Missouri. I found them at my mother‘s residence, on Big river; but
after remaining a few weeks, finding that my presence was anything
but pleasing to my old enemies I removed to Illinois and settled on
the Mississippi, about forty miles below St. Louis. Here I went to
chopping cord wood for a livelihood, not intending to molest any one,
as the war was over, and fully determined to withhold my hand from the
commission of any act that would indicate anything else than that I was
a peaceable and law-abiding citizen.
In January, 1869, I moved across the river on to the Missouri side, at
a place called Rush Tower, and continued cutting wood until the first
of April, at which time I rented a small farm of Samuel B. Herrod, on
the Three Rivers, in Ste. Genevieve county, near the county line of
St. Francois, and about four miles from Big River Mills. To this place
I moved my family. My oldest boy was twelve years old, and on him
devolved most of the labor on the farm.
My arrival seemed to create a panic among those who had robbed me,
killed my brothers, and persecuted my family. They still had a fear of
retributive justice, and though I had no such designs, they secretly
went to work to effect my destruction.
Joe McGahan, as I am informed, took several trips to influence the
Governor of Missouri to crush me out of existence. Gov. McClurg
instructed Col. Myers, Police Commissioner of St. Louis, to send out
men for my arrest. In May, 1869, he sent McQueen and Col. Bowen, who
were met at Irondale by Joe McGahan, to pilot them to the scene of
operations. On going about ten miles, however, daylight overtook them,
and McGahan, after informing them that to be seen there in daylight
would be death to him, went on home and never returned. At the
approach of night the detectives were obliged to proceed without a
guide, on foot, and in a strange neighborhood. After wandering around
all night, wading Big river at a deep ford, they were obliged to pass
another day in the woods. As they could not find my house without some
further information, one of them, disguised as a rude country man in
search of employment, got all the information he wanted. It appears
that those two detectives watched around my house for eight days and
nights. Their provisions then gave out, and not being able to get any
from my enemies, they started back to Irondale at ten o‘clock at night,
and from there took the cars for St. Louis. While this was going on I
was working at the mouth of Isle Bois on the Mississippi.
It appears that some time during the war Governor Fletcher had offered
a reward of three hundred dollars for my capture.
This and other rewards which were offered was the price of blood—an
inducement held out for assassination! Men can be found, who, for a
certain reward, will shoot any man down whom a Governor may designate.
Thank God, I have never come to that yet! I have killed many men,
but it has always been either in self-defense, or for the purpose of
redressing some terrible wrong.
Some persons wrote to Governor McClurg to ascertain whether the
reward was still valid; on being answered in the affirmative, they
determined, even for that paltry sum, to attempt my assassination.
James McLaine, as he afterwards boasted, prowled around my house for
one whole month for that purpose.
On the night of June 6th, 1869, I ventured up to my house at a late
hour to see my family, and remained with them all night. In the morning
I stepped out into the yard, when I heard the report of a gun from a
cluster of hazel brush about eighty yards off. I went into the house
for my gun, and discovered that I had been shot through the fleshy part
of my thigh.
On going out I could discover no one, the person having left as soon
as he fired, so I went into Mr. Pratt‘s stable, a short distance
off. Presently McLaine passed by with his gun; after going up to my
house, he came back and passed along the road not far from the stable.
Believing him to be the assassin, I would have shot him, but was
prevented by Mr. Pratt.
I was hauled to the house of William M. Highley, who went after a
physician to have my wound dressed. The wound proved to be a very
serious one, and disabled me for a long time in such a manner that I
was unable to walk. I was next hauled to Samuel Gossom‘s, and then to
the residence of my uncle, John Williams. As this became the scene of
a furious battle a few days afterwards, I shall be a little minute in
my description. My uncle‘s family consisted of himself, Aunt Mary and
a granddaughter about six years of age. His house is among the hills
in the western part of St. Francois county, five miles from Big River
Mills, and one mile due south from the stone house formerly occupied
by Dick Berryman. My uncle‘s premises consisted of one log house, one
story high, and containing but one room. In the yard west of the house
stood an old dilapidated cabin with the chimney torn down, near which
stood the smoke-house and a cluster of young cherry trees. Opposite the
south end of the house, at a distance of about eighty yards, was the
spring house.
I suffered much from my wound; and as my well known crippled condition
emboldened parties afterwards to attempt my arrest, under the
assumption that I was just about dead, I attribute all my sufferings
and privations during the three months that followed to that attempted
assassination. For many months afterwards I believed that it was James
McLaine who did the deed, but I will here state that the man who shot
me, as I am informed, was Cyrus A. Peterson, from Fredericktown, and
that Walter E. Evans was along with him.
Neither of those two men did I ever harm; Peterson I did not know, and
Evans I had met a few weeks before, and shook hands with him.
The Evans family resided on Big river, and we were raised up within
a few miles of each other. The widow and her daughter remained at
home in perfect safety during the whole war, although the family
was known to be Union (with one or two exceptions), and two of her
boys, Ellis G. and William C. Evans, were known to be two of the most
uncompromising Unionists in the State. I heard Dick Berryman once tell
his men, after calling them all up in a line, that he would not suffer
them to interfere with the widow Evans, or with any property that she
possessed. This order I sanctioned, and governed myself accordingly.
While I still lay at my uncle‘s, confined to my bed, Sheriff
Breckinridge and a party of about six men concluded that they would
secure the reward offered by the Governor without any personal danger,
as it was thought by some that I had died of my wounds.
During the night he went with his party to Mr. Highley‘s, and got
near the house by keeping behind a gate-post. Mr. Highley was called
out, and when he assured them that I was not there they made a
valiant charge upon the house, and entered it just as Mrs. Highley
was endeavoring to put on her dress. The gallant Breckinridge thrust
his gun against her dress and threw it to the other side of the room,
denoting thereby that cowardice and ruffianism are blended together.
From here they went on the balance of the night in search of “Sam
Hildebrand”—_and they found him_!
They reached Uncle William‘s about daylight. Finding him at the crib
they made a breastwork of him, by making the old man walk in front,
while they marched on behind with their guns presented. I fastened the
front door and refused to open it. The back door, however, was only
latched, and a child could have opened it. I pulled a little rag out
of a crack near the jamb, and as they attempted to pass I fired four
shots at them before they fired at all; one tumbled up behind the
ash-hopper, and the others dashed back around the corner to the front
side of the house. They fired several shots through the door, which
struck the wall at the back of the house a few inches over the bed
where the little girl lay. She raised a terrible yell; Aunt Mary ran to
her, supposing that she had been shot. “Come away with her,” said I,
“and both of you stand in yon corner; break her a piece of pie to stop
her crying, so that I can hear what is going on.” I got two more shots
through the crack near the chimney, one of which was at Noah Williams;
he got in the chimney corner, and was hunting for a crack, but I found
it first, and sent a shot after him that raked across his breast, and
tore his clothes in such a manner that he left in disgust. They kept
firing through the door; the beds were literally riddled; aunt got a
shot on her chin; a whole volley was now fired through the door; one
little shot struck her on the head, and five holes were shot through
her dress.
They now marched the old man in front of them to the door; he stood
with his right hand against the door-facing, and cried out: “Sam, open
the door or they will kill me!”
“Hold on, Uncle,” I replied, “and step out of the way.”
Just then I opened the door, and crossing my arms I fired to the
right and left with my pistols. Uncle‘s hand being in the way, I could
only shoot Breckinridge through the groin, and another man through the
shoulder.
Andy Bean broke to run, and jumped the fence by a walnut tree just
as a shot passed through his fiery red whiskers, grazing his face
sufficiently to saturate them, and to make him believe that they were
one huge stream of blood. The whole party now broke, and on leaping the
fence fired off their guns, some of their shots piercing the door, one
passed through my uncle‘s wrist, some struck the house, and some missed
creation.
The man wounded in the shoulder was taken to the spring to have water
poured on his wound, Breckinridge to Frank Simms to have his life
written, and Andy Bean to Irondale to have the arteries of his whiskers
taken up. Aunt Mary now brought me a bucket of water and left, after
telling me that there were provisions enough in the house to last a
week.
Telegraphic dispatches were sent to St. Louis, Potosi and Farmington
for more men. James McLaine and Dennis O‘Leary came from Farmington,
and Captain Todd Hunter with eight or ten men came from Potosi and
Irondale, and, from a hill two hundred yards off, kept up an occasional
fire at the house during the balance of the day. The party behind
the spring house were compelled to remain there on account of my
shots; they, however, kept up a random fire, to show to their anxious
companions that they were not yet dead. They once held a hat around
the corner of the spring house, and instantly got a hole shot through
it.
While the firing still continued, I tried my hand at cooking my dinner.
After eating a hearty meal and resting myself a little, I went on duty
again.
About sunset McLaine climbed upon the old cabin near the house, but as
there were three walls between us, the cracks did not range right for
me to shoot him. After he had kindled a fire on the roof he came down
and stood near the door on the far side of the cabin. I got a glimpse
of his body, and by a lucky chance I shot him dead.
This created such an excitement that, as they crowded around his body,
which they carried a short distance, I opened the back door, and
unperceived by any of them, crawled out through the weeds and through
the fence. Here I had to leave my gun, as I could not carry it, for I
could not walk a step on account of my wounded leg. I crawled through
the woods about two miles, for darkness now favored my escape, and
arriving at the house of a friend, I obtained a horse and rode to my
sister‘s (Mrs. Adams), living near the old homestead of the Hildebrand
family.
It was necessary that I should keep in a cool place on account of my
wound, so I went into my cave in the Big river bluff, half a mile north
from the residence of G. W. Murphy, and near the Pike Run hills, where
I remained some time, my provisions being brought to me every day by
my sister. My wife and children still remained on the Herrod place,
where they were watched so closely that they could not come to my
assistance.
[Illustration: HILDEBRAND‘S LAST BATTLE.]
CHAPTER XXXVII.
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.
