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The Texas and Pacific Express
Train Robbed at Eagle Ford
and Mesquite.


The Messenger and Conductor Open
Fire on the Bandits - In the Ex-
change of Shots the Coaches
are Riddled.


The Guards of the Convict Train Join in
the Fray and in Retaliation the Rob-
bers Attempt the Release of
About Fifty Convicts.


The Express and Mail Car is Sat-
urated with Coal Oil and the
Match Lighted before the
Door is Opened.



How the Maskers Operated, Amount
Captured - A Dallasian's Familiarity
Addressed by the Robbers.

[From Saturday's Daily.]

     The west bound passenger and express train on the Texas and Pacific railroad was robbed Thursday night at 12:10, at Eagle Ford, by four masked men, armed with Winchester rifles and navy sixes. As the train drew up at the depot, the robbers rushed into the office and made a prisoner of Mr. J. Hixcox, railroad agent. One of the party covering him with a pistol, kept the agent in the office while the three others hurried to the locomotive and arrested the engineer and fireman, whom they marched, together with the agent, to the door of the express car.
     Before leaving the depot, the agent had been ordered, on reaching the express coach, to ask to be admitted, feigning as though he was alone. Although all have been quietly done, the suspicions of the express messenger must have been aroused, for when the agent asked for admittance as he had been commanded, the messenger refused to open the door under any circumstances, informing the agent that he could only get in by breaking in the door. One of the robbers ran to the tender and, returning with a stick of wood, proceeded to batter in the door, the leader of the maskers, at the same time calling out to the messenger that they would give him two minutes to open the door.
     When the messenger opened it, he was covered with the arms of the party, and ordered to unlock the safe. On entering the car, the robbers immediately went through it. This completed, the leader of the gang said, "Well, we'll now see what's in Uncle Sam's packages," and started for the mail car. At this juncture, Conductor Campbell came out to see what was the occasion of the delay, and was rounded up by the robbers with the agent, engineer and fireman, at the same time being relieved of his watch. The mail bags were then rifled and all registered letters taken. A stock man of this place, named Wilson, who was aboard of the train, came out and walked up into the crowd, not knowing the nature of the delay, when one of the robbers said, "Fall into line, Wilson, d--n you, fall into line," which he did without further delay. The robber unquestionably knew him, but Wilson failed to recognize his voice.
After the robbery, the maskers backed some distance from the train with their weapons presented to prevent an attack, and then turning, retreated hurriedly in a northeasterly direction.
     Colonel Noble, superintendent of the Texas and Pacific, who was in the city at the LeGrand, was telegraphed regarding the robbery, and upon receiving the message, notified the officers of the fact, when a posse of men, headed by Captain June Peak, started in pursuit. Thus far, nothing concerning the movements of the pursuing force have been received. The maskers are though to be of the same gang who recently robbed the Texas Central railroad at Allen and Hutchins, variously estimated at from four to sixteen.
     Mr. Hargis, the agent of the Texas express company at this place, was called upon by a H
ERALD reporter to ascertain the amount taken from the company. The gentleman stated that the amount taken could not be much over fifty dollars, but was reticent concerning anything else connected with the robbery and pursuit. Judge Norton, the postmaster, was also called upon by the reporter, to learn, if possible, the loss by mail. He stated that he could not tell, as the major part of it was a through mail to Fort Worth, and he had not received any information from that point regarding it. He said he could, therefore, only speak of the mail from this point, and as there had been but very little registered money sent on that evening in that direction, he thought the amount gotten by the robbers must have been small.

[From Sunday's Daily.]

     Last night, a HERALD reporter met Mr. E. L. Stevens, the station agent at Eagle Ford, who stated that he could give no new developments concerning the train robbing at that place. He stated that the robbing was perfected in the most quiet manner possible, and executed with dispatch. The leader of the gang was a small man, rather wiry in his movements, with dark, close-cut hair, small mustache and about one hundred and forty pounds weight. Though he was dressed in a rough frontier garb, he had the air of a border dandy, and gave his orders in a bold, fearless way, which the other three men, without ever once speaking a word, executed with rapidity and precision. One of the other three, was rather a large, tall man, though not fleshy, while the other two were of medium size. All wore masks, consisting of handkerchiefs tied around their faces just below the eyes. While engaged in securing the booty, the leader's mask dropped down, but he never attempted to fix it. They had a flour sack with them in which they put the purloined money and mail.
     Last night, about ten o'clock, the express agent at this place, received a dispatch from Pilot Point, in Denton county, stating that Sam Bass, Jackson and Underwood, the supposed train robbers, are in the bottom of Elm Fork. It was rumored that a party had crowded them above Lewisville, when a fight ensued, in which many shots had been exchanged, when the attacking party, for want of sufficient force, had been compelled to draw off, when the robbers made for the bottom of Elm Fork, near Pilot Point, where they defied arrest. The dispatch asked for help, and Marshal Morton, officers Arnold, Walton and McGinly, left last night on horseback for the scene.

Bass and His Gang in Denton County,
Where They Defy the Law and Out
General Their Pursuers.

From Wednesday's Daily.

     Last night about 8 o'clock, the party who had gone from this place to Denton county to look for the Eagle Ford express robbers, returned to the city.
     A H
ERALD reporter called upon Mr. Sam Finley, of the express company, who kindly furnished the following: Thursday, the day after the robbery, a party consisting of detective James Curry, Ed Smith, telegraph operator, Wm. Edwards and others, started out on the hunt of the Eagle Ford express robbers. They struck their trail at Eagle Crossing, in this county, which led them in a round-about way through the prairie and timber, within two miles of Lewisville, on the Denton road.
     Securing the services of a party who was thoroughly versed in the windings of the county to pilot them, they set out the following day to continue the hunt. After riding over a good portion of the county on Saturday, they turned again towards Denton, and when within two miles of that place, and while they were yet in the timber, their attention was attracted to two horses hitched in the timber a short distance from the main road. They thought the animals were those of Hall's rangers, but determining to take very precaution, they scattered and advanced toward them. He and Curry rode further down on the left.
     When within about forty rods of the horses, a shot was fired at Curry, which he returned. He saw the smoke from the shot, but could not see the party who fired it. He and Curry dismounted, calling to the other men to go around in the rear.
     While in the act of tying his horse, he saw one of the robbers, Frank Jackson, standing behind a tree with his side exposed to him, aiming at Curry. Dropping his bridle reins, he threw his gun down on the robber to shoot, when a voice called out, "Look out, Frank." Jackson immediately put the tree between Finley and himself. Wheeling around to learn where the voice came from, he saw a man just as he was getting behind a tree. At this juncture, he began to look for a tree himself, and soon found one. Having gained shelter, he began to look about, but could see nothing further.
Smith and their pilot had nothing but pistols, which were useless at that range.
     Jackson asked the party what they were shooting at them for, when Curry asked him why he shot at them; the robber replied that he had fired at a rabbit that had jumped up between them.
     This raised a doubt in their mind as to whether or not they were the right party, and he called to them to come out from behind the trees and show who they were. This they refused to do, saying, "You go away; we don't know you."
     To encourage them, he stepped from behind the tree, repeating his request that they should come out and show who they were. They still refused and said, ""No, you go away; we don't want to see you." He then called to Curry, who was also behind a tree some fifty yards off in a key which the robbers could plainly hear, asking him if either one of the men was Bass, when Curry, who knew Bass by sight, answered "no."
     He then walked to where his horse was grazing, when one of the robbers asked him what he was going to do. He told him he would let him know in a few minutes. He then led his horse over to where Curry was standing, they covering him all the while with their guns.
Curry assured him that Bass was not there, and he began to think more than ever that they were after the wrong men.
     After a short consultation, and finding that they could get nothing out of the men, they pulled off, watched them and saw each one at a time go out and saddle his horse, while the other would stand guard with his gun leveled on them. Soon after, they rode off in the woods and afterwards appearing about three hundred and fifty yards below. They then raised in their saddles, waved their hats and yelled to them to come on. Chase was given, but the robbers soon distanced them.
     It was subsequently learned that the man with Jackson was Underwood, the Nebraska express robber, who recently escaped from prison. In about an hour after Finley and his party had arrived in Denton, Tom Gerrin, formerly a deputy sheriff of that county, told them that Tom [sic] Bass and his men were at a mill about three quarters of a mile out, and they if they wanted them, to come out and try to take them. Gerrin said there were four or five of them in the party, and all of them armed with Winchester rifles.
     At the time, he thought the report a canard, and he asked Gerrin to accompany them to the place, but though he claims, and has been to all appearances, acting as an officer of the law, he refused, saying, "No, Sam Bass is a friend of mine and I will do nothing against him." This braggadocio-like avowal from Gerrin, when it became known, caused a great deal of excitement and indignation among the citizens of that place who armed and went out in pursuit. Before their arrival, Bass and his followers had taken a timely departure.
     While in Denton, he became aware that the major part of the citizens of the county condemned the robbers, but they had a number of friends who kept them posted concerning their movements. He stated that men who acted as couriers for the robbers left the city while they were there. Many sympathize with them, while others befriend them, fearing their ill-will, though the citizens, as a general thing, heartily condemn the outlaws. Seeing that it was useless to further pursue under these circumstances without a superior force, he telegraphed to this place for aid, when Captain June Peak, Marshal Morton, officers Arnold, Waller and James McGinley, responded, arriving there Tuesday morning. Thus reinforced, they scoured the county around Denton for a circuit of ten miles, but failed to find further trace of them. It is time that the governor of the state was taking some action in the matter.
Sam Bass and his followers would look well in the iron cage at the jail. Bass boasts of the Union express robbery, and says he converted most of the gold he got that trip into greenbacks.

- April 13, 1878, Dallas Weekly Herald, p. 1.
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     It is by no means a new thing for men to go after what seems to be easy money, and there was plenty of excitement in and about Dallas in the latter part of June, 1878, when four train robberies were perpetrated in rapid succession in this vicinity, two on the H. & T. C. and two on the Texas & Pacific railroads. The first robbery was at Allen, the second at Hutchins, the third at Eagle Ford, and the fourth at Mesquite. The officers and State rangers scoured the country for the bandits, but did not arrive at even a suspicion as to who they were until after the Mesquite holdup.
     The clew was given by a man who knew some of the bandits, and by the arrest of one of the gang who had been shot in the leg at Mesquite, and who had stolen into Dallas for surgical aid. Then it became known that the band was headed by Sam Bass, who had, up to that time, enjoyed the reputation of being a law-abiding farmer and stockman of Denton County and whose followers were mostly country boys of Dallas and Denton Counties who had become fired with the spirit of adventure.
     The holdups at Allen, Eagle Ford and Hutchins were without specially romantic features, the bandits simply boarding the trains when they stopped at the stations, as was their method, and taking what they found in the express car, and leaving the passengers undisturbed. They usually announced themselves by firing a few shots in order to give the requisite blood-and-thunder setting to their performance, but avoiding wanton bloodshed. But, at Mesquite, their exploit took on more picturesque accessories.

Picturesque Holdups.
      In the first place, Conductor Alvord, who had charge of the train, when told to throw up his hands as he stepped on the platform, pulled a small pistol and began to shoot, thereby making himself the target for such a fusillade of shots that he scrambled aboard the train with the bone of his left arm shattered by a bullet, and his hat carried off his head by a charge from a sawed-off shotgun. The shots attracted the attention of the guards of a convict train standing near the station, and one of the guards took a shot at the nearest bandit, but he was obliged to retire under a rain of bullets and buckshot.
     The three guards of the convict train, J. T. Lynch, now of the Dallas police force; Fluellen, who had shot at the bandit, and Henning, with their guns in hand, approached the train from the side opposite the station, but were told by the two bandits on that side to stop where they were. They replied that they had no intention of interfering, but merely wished to see what was going on. The bandits told them there was no objection to their presence if they would keep quiet.

Threatens to Burn Car.
     According to J. T. Lynch, who said he saw and heard everything, the robbers made Jake Zern, station agent, throw up his hands as he came out of the station, and stood up beside him, J. M. Gross, a local merchant who happened to be on the platform. The express messenger closed his car and refused to open. The bandits saturated the sides of the car with kerosene and told the messenger that they were going to count to fifty, and that if the car was not open by that time, they would apply a match to the kerosene. When the counter got to "forty," the door of the car flew open and the messenger stepped out with hands above his head.

     "I heard what the bandits said to the express messenger, saw them throw kerosene against the car, and heard the man counting," said Lynch. Meantime Jake Zern and Mr. Cross held their hands up as faithfully as any old saint on his pillar. After the robbers had looted the car, and were about to depart, the express messenger coolly said to them: "Would you gentlemen object to giving me a receipt for what you have taken from the car; you see, I shall have to make a report to the company?" The messenger's request was such a surprise that we guards were moved to laugh to ourselves, but it was even funnier to Jake Zern, who laughed aloud, and was reproved by one of the robbers for the untimeliness of his mirth.
     "Jake Zern lived on the second floor of the station, and while the robbers were busy with the express car, Mrs. Zern slipped downstairs and secured what money there was in the station drawer. The robbers did not molest the passengers on the train, but they took a watch and some money from the messenger.  They were, however, so well pleased with the nerve he displayed by asking them for a receipt that they returned to him all that they had taken, with the remark that he was all right.
     Having looted the car, the robbers made a run for their horses, taking with them the man whom our guard, Fluellen, had wounded when he fired a charge of buckshot at him at the beginning of the proceedings. But before they started away, one of the number proposed that they go and liberate all the convicts, because Fluellen had fired. The convicts, who heard this proposal, became very unruly, and we were obliged to shoot three of them within the next few days. The wounded robber was sent to Dallas, or came of his own accord, to consult a surgeon, and was arrested along with another of the band, and in this way the personnel of the band became known to the officers and rangers."
     A company of rangers, reinforced by civilians and officers, under command of Lieutenant June Peak of the rangers, went in pursuit of the bandits. In the pursing party, besides the rangers and officers, wee Alex Cockrell, Tom Floyd, Tom Gerren, Jim Curry, John and William Work, and many more. The posse followed the bandits into Denton County, and thence into Wise County. In their flight, the robbers killed one of their number whom they suspected of bad faith, saying that he snored in his sleep.
     At Salt Creek, in Wise County, the posse surprised the bandits in camp. Their horses were staked out to graze in a glad while the men were taking a much needed sleep in a grove. Underwood was the only one of the bandits who got to his horse, on which he got away, but seeing that Lieutenant Peak was the only one in charge of the horses, he boldly rode back to dispute Peak's claim to the stock. He charged Peak, shooting as he came. But, Peak shot him out of his saddle, but was unable to prevent him from escaping into the timber on foot. In order to render it impossible for the fugitives to regain possession of the horses, Lieutenant Peak ordered the animals shot.
     In the running fight which ensued, Alex Cockrell and John Work had their horses killed under them, and Arkansaw Johnson, one of the bandits, was killed. Eluding their pursuers, the rest of the gang secured other mounts and struck across Denton and Dallas Counties, making their way into East Fork bottom in Kaufman County, with the rangers and posse in pursuit. In the meantime, Lieutenant Peak had secured the services of a spy in the camp of the fugitives. Having followed the bandits out of Kaufman County and as far south as Porter's Bluff on the Trinity River, he received word from his spy that the bandits had planned to raid a bank in Waco on a certain day. Acting on this information, Lieutenant Peak made arrangements to be on hand at the robbery. But before the day arrived, a second message from the spy informed the officer that the Waco enterprise had been abandoned in favor of a raid on a bank at Round Rock, where the chances of getting away with the holdup were considered as being more favorable.
     Realizing that it would be impossible for him to reach Round Rock in time to be present at the robbery, Lieutenant Peak telegraphed Major J. B. Jones, commander of the rangers, who dispatched a company of rangers to the scene. The rangers engaged the bandits on the streets as they entered the town, and in the running fight which followed, Sam Bass, the leader, was killed, and his band, scattering, never again operated as an organization, though some of the individuals figured for several years in lone holdups.
     Just what amount of loot the Bass gang secured in their various holdups no one seems to know. As stated, they never undertook to rob the passengers on the trains which they stopped, but were content with what they got out of the express cars. Bass is said to have been a native of Illinois. He came to Texas when he was a mere boy, settling in Denton County, where his people engaged in farming and stock raising. His band consisted of about ten men, mostly boys of respectable families in Dallas and Denton Counties. Arkansaw Johnson, who was killed in the Salt Creek fight, was the only one of the number whose antecedents were unknown. Nobody seems to this day to know who he was.
     One of the number was killed in Grayson County, another by United States soldiers in Kansas, a third by a United States Deputy Marshal in Dakota, two were convicted and sent to the penitentiary, and two, Bill Underwood and Frank Jackson, have never been accounted for.
     Early day bandits were usually frontiersmen, who regarded railway trains, which began to make their appearance in their solitudes, as a species of larger game, and who were prompted as much by adventure as they were by cupidity. They knew little or nothing of commercialism or industrialism. After an exploit, they fled into some natural wilderness, the mountains or woods, their superior knowledge of the country, giving them a great advantage over pursuing officers.

Up-to-Date Bandits.
     But bandits nowadays are right up-to-date in the affairs of the world, court danger, and rather prefer that the police, Deputy Sheriffs, detectives and secret service men will see proper to appear on the scene than not, as calculated to give zest to their operations, and since the telegraph and telephone wires, automobiles and interurban cars have transferred the wilderness from the mountains and woods to the cities, they no longer figure on a 100-mile chase and the chances of eluding it. They simply turn a few corners, lose themselves in the crowd and turn up the next day for a new adventure just a few blocks removed from the scene of the sensation of the preceding day. The old-time bandit took life only when it was necessary; the modern shoots promiscuously.

- January 23, 1921, Dallas Morning News, Sec. 3, p. 4.
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Outlaw Band Unwelcome Guests
of Dallas Business Men n
Denton County.



    "To me, it seems only yesterday that all the Western country was full of Indians in paint," said M. W. Samuels, 102 South Jefferson street. "I was born at Columbus, Ind., in 1852, and going to Kansas with my father, Joseph Samuels, in 1858, settled at Marysville, Marshall County, 110 miles west of St. Joseph, where father was proprietor of the only mercantile establishment between St. Joseph and Denver. The country was almost a moving mass of buffaloes, and the Indians were on the warpath all around us. Settlers were in constant dread of massacre. Little children did not have to be told twice to stick close to the house.
    "While I spent my boyhood days on the frontier, all that was very tame in comparison with what I saw when I made a trip to the Black Hills in 1869. In early days, people flocked to newly discovered gold fields as they now flock to a new oil field. Most of them did not know gold from any other shiny substance, but that did not hold them back. I hurried to Deadwood with thousands of others from all parts of the world. I took a stage at Sidney, Neb. The Black Hills were in the Sioux reservation, and when white men began to pour into that region, the Indians protested, and, that doing no good, went on the warpath. the stage, which charged a fare of ten cents a mile, was guarded every step of the way by Federal soldiers.
    "Deadwood, a collection of tents and huts in the mountains, was a den of vice. Criminals and abandoned characters from all the ends of the earth had assembled there, thinking to profit by the absence of law and order. Men killed one another at the gaming tables, or killed themselves when they lost their all. A man considered himself lucky when he was merely hijacked, for robbers, as a rule, killed their victim to start with, and then went through his pockets at their leisure. No man felt safe. The Indians attacked the first train the Union Pacific attempted to run into Deadwood, and, among others, killed the engineer. To tell the plain truth, I was afraid to stay at Deadwood, and I soon found myself running the gauntlet back to Sidney and feeling infinitely more safe on the way than I had felt in Deadwood.

Up Against It Once More.
    "The Southwest began to attract attention when railroad building was started here early in the 70s. From what I could hear, Shreveport was the very place for a rising young man. I arrive there in August, 1873. I was at once arrested and put in a quarantine camp, where I learned that there was a yellow fever epidemic on. All the fears and alarms I had experienced at Deadwood once more came over me. Early that night, I managed to escape from the camp. I footed it to Marshall, hiding in the woods when I saw anybody coming. On reaching Marshall, I made for the railroad yards, where I found a freight train starting west. The friendly engineer and the fireman agreed to bring me to Dallas for $5 each, which I was glad to pay. With a blanket rolled around me, I rode in the coal tender. The engineer stopped the train several miles east of Dallas and put me off, but told me how to find my way into town. He was afraid to let me come in on the train.

Early Morning Killing.
    "Covered with coal dust and half famished, I strode into the Crutchfield House at night. The town was quarantined against the world, and a stranger had to give a circumstantial account of whence he came and how he got into town. To questions at the Crutchfield House, I replied that I had been at work for some time in the Texas & Pacific yards, and, strange to say, got by with that fabrication. When I emerged from the hotel next morning, I had scarcely time to note that the courthouse was s small frame structure with trees around it and inclosed by a chain which served at once as fence and hitching rack, when my attention was arrested by some shots on the east side of the square. I saw a man fall on the sidewalk in front of the Four-Clover saloon, at what is now 102 South Jefferson street, and another man mount a horse, and, whooping and yelling like a Comanche, ride for the river, firing a pistol with each hand as he went. He clattered across the bridge without saying turkey about the toll and was lost to view. The shacks on the east side of the courthouse were occupied as saloons or gambling halls, or a combination of the two. Such games as faro and keno were played within the houses, and monte, chuck-a-luck and the wheel and paddle games on the sidewalk in front.    There was a 'barker' for each game, who in eloquent slang, urged the boys to come forward and try their luck. The shooting affair did not interfere with the business of the gamblers. Word went down the line that a man had been killed, and that was all there was to it. So little was said about the tragedy, in fact, that I never heard the name of either of the parties to it. So far as I know, no attempt was made by the officers to arrest the killer.

Took it Out for Trade.
    "I went to work for Adam Craft, on the northeast corner of Main and Jefferson streets. Mr. Craft had the most extensive general mercantile establishment in Dallas, and was the largest cotton buyer in North Texas. He was succeeded in business by his son, Levi Craft, who occupied the old stand until along in the '80s. Dallas was the terminus of the Houston & Texas Central and of the Texas & Pacific Railroads, and was the market for the cotton produced in Dallas and adjoining counties. Merchants paid 4 1/2¢ to 5¢ for cotton, not in money, but in dry goods and groceries. The cotton, some of it grown 150 miles away, was brought in four and five bales on a wagon, drawn by six yoke of oxen, the whole family perched on top of the cotton. The farmer would exchange his cotton for jeans, linsey-woolsey, cowhide shoes, tobacco and whisky, and then beat it back home without having seen a cent of money, and, to all appearance, well satisfied. Every cotton grower had to have whisky and navy tobacco. Many times, a farmer, after completing his purchases, would take a hasty inventory and conclude that he had invested too much in dry goods and groceries and not enough in whisky, and would ask the merchant to take back part of the groceries and wearing apparel and give him more whisky and tobacco. In spite of the fact that farmers got next to nothing for their cotton, and had to take that in trade, there was considerable money in circulation, mostly gold, for the people of the South were afraid of greenbacks. For several years after the close of the war, the country was flooded with counterfeit bills, and the people refused to take chances on any kind of paper money.

Town Lot Auction.
    "The only two-story building on the courthouse square in 1873 was the Wagner Building, southeast corner of Main and Jefferson streets. But, there were several two-story buildings on Main and Elm streets. Dallas was no doubt a flourishing town, but it was generally believed that when the railroads were extended, the trade would go elsewhere. Waco was spoken of as the coming town, and Fort Worth was already on something of a boom. The real estate men advertised a town lot sale at Fort Worth in 1873. Philip Sanger, who knew that I had about $2,000, came to me and advised me to invest it in town lots at Fort Worth. I hired a buggy and drove to Fort Worth to attend the auction sale of lots. Lots sold from $50 to $150 each in what is now the business district of the town, the best corner lots going for the latter figure. I listened to the auctioneer, but was never once moved to make a bid. Mr. Sanger was out of patience with me when I told him that I had not invested. I also looked Waco over. It was a larger town than Dallas, had more capital and had an immense trade. But, I did not take hold. When I returned to Dallas, a blacksmith who was illuminated with the name of Bois d'Arc, from the circumstance that he made wagons of bois d'arc timber, offered me a tract of thirty acres lying along the river, west of Houston street, and extending from Commerce street to the brewery plant. He wanted $300 for it. It did not seem to me that it would even be worth as much as $3, and so, we made no deal. When I review the past, it appears to me that I obstinately refused to be shoved or shouldered in on the ground floor in this part of the country.

Merely a Little to Drink.
    "In 1876, Isadore Casper of Casper Bros., Denison, and I went west with three wagons loaded with merchandise, which we meant to sell at auction in the various settlements. I was the auctioneer. With us were Perry Saums and a Mexican in charge of the teams. A few miles east of Denton, we met late in the afternoon a body of twenty-five or thirty heavily-armed mounted men. After halting and questioning us, they ordered us to about face and conducted us into a deep ravine, where they said we would go into camp for the night. The leader introduced himself as Sam Bass and presented his next friend, Mr. Underwood. These formalities over, Bass wanted to know if we had any whisky. We told him that we had only about five gallons. 'We do not want to swim in it, but merely a little drink,' was his reply. The outlaws took a drink all around, invited themselves to be our guests at supper and then played cards, having first put out guards.

Send Word to the Rangers.
    "After breakfast next morning, Bass and Underwood, acting for the whole band, shook hands with us, thanked us for our hospitality, praised our fare and whisky, and requested that if we met any rangers, we tell them a straight tale about having spent the night with Sam Bass and his men. Then we resumed our journey and our guests went in the opposite direction. Between our camping place and Denton, we met a squad of rangers, to whom we gave a circumstantial account of our night with the outlaws. The rangers went in hot pursuit, but I never heard that they caught up with the fugitives. That was two or three years before Bass was killed at Round Rock."

- May 24, 1925, Dallas Morning News, Sec. 9, p. 5.
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