Part 2

After the departure of Davis and Hayes, about thirty citizens organized into a pursuing party, some mounted on horses, others were carried in wagons and buggies, and all set out in full speed along the road the robbers had taken.

Meantime the

TELEGRAPH WAS SET AT WORK,

and messages were sent to all points. Unfortunately the operator at Dundas was not in his office, and although the call was repeated for an hour no response was made. Had this gentleman been at his post, the people of Dundas would have been prepared to receive the bandits on their arrival.

It has been expressed as a wonder by many that the gang, before making the raid, did not cut the telegraph wires, but it appears from the confession of one of them, that their plan was a much better one. They intended to have destroyed the telegraph instruments before leaving, only the unexpectedly hot attack which was made upon them by the plucky boys of Northfield, completely demoralized them.

The first indication received at St. Paul of the daring raid, was from the following telegram to Mayor Maxfield:

“Eight armed men attacked the bank at two o’clock. Fight on street between robbers and citizens. Cashier killed and teller wounded. Send us arms and men to chase robbers.”

JOHN T. AMES.

This telegram reached St. Paul at about 3 p. m. The first train leaving the city for the scene of hostilities at 4 p. m., was the Owatonna Accommodation, on the Milwaukee & St. Paul road. From St. Paul were dispatched, Chief of Police King, detective Brissette, officers Brosseau and Clark, and Deputy Sheriff Harrison. At Mendota Junction, the party was joined by Mr. Brackett and posse of police, consisting of Capt. Hoy, A. S. Munger, F. C. Shepherd, J. W. Hankinson and J. West, of Minneapolis, all well armed with seven shooters and rifles. At Rosemount, Farmington and Castle Rock, the excitement was immense, many persons at these points getting on the cars and proceeding to Northfield.

The train arrived at the scene of the most daring crime ever perpetrated in the State at 6:20, the whole platform being crowded with an excited populace.

THE DEAD BANDITS.

The police were at once led by the sheriff to an empty store where were lying the inanimate and ghastly forms of the two bandits who had been shot down by the intrepid Northfield citizens. One was found to be six feet four and a half inches in height; his body exhibited a splendid physical development, with arms and limbs of thewy muscles and skin as fair and soft as a lady’s; his face was of rather an elongated oval with sharply cut features; high cheek bones, well arched brow and deep-set blue eyes. His hair was a very dark, reddish auburn, inclined to curl. He wore no hair on his face, but was closely shaved, and did not appear to be more than 23 or 25 years of age. He was clothed in a new suit of black clothes, worth about $25 or $30, a new colored shirt and good boots. The ball which brought him down entered about three inches, in a line with the left nipple and toward the center of the chest and completely riddling the man, passed out on the same side beneath the shoulder blade. On his person was found the card of the Nicollet House livery stable, St. Peter, on which is printed the distances of the principal cities in this part of the State. He had also on him an advertisement of Hall’s safes cut from a local paper. His pockets were well filled with cartridges, and he had round his waist, beneath his coat, a cartridge belt. There has been some dispute as to the identity of the man, but it is now pretty well settled that he is Bill Chadwell _alias_ Bill Styles.

IDENTIFICATION.

There were two men from Cannon Falls, who came to view the bodies before the interment, with the expectation of identifying one of the latter as a brother-in-law of one of the two. He said if it was his relative, a bullet scar would be found under the left arm. The scar was there, but the man would not say whether the fellow was his relation or not. The man whom the big fellow was thought to be, is

[BILL STYLES.]

BILL STYLES.

BILL STYLES,

a former resident of Minneapolis, who has a brother-in-law still living there. This Styles left for Texas some time ago. It is said he was a desperately bad man. It is told that his sister received a letter from him a short time before, saying that now he had lucrative employment, and if she wanted money he would send her some. He also wrote in his letter that he would shortly be up this way, and would call on her. This sister was adopted by a minister residing at Cannon Falls. A letter recently received from the father of Styles proves beyond doubt the identity of the man. Styles’ father now lives at Grand Forks, D. T., and says that his son has for some time lived in Texas. The father expresses no surprise at the untimely end of his son, and says he was always a wild wayward boy with whom he could do nothing.

CLELL MILLER.

[CLELL MILLER.]

CLELL MILLER.

The other man was five feet eight inches in height, but much stouter built than the taller, with hair of the exact color, and like his inclined to curl. His face was rounder and covered with about two weeks growth of beard; the eyes, like the other’s were blue.

The clothing was quite new, even to the shirt, which appeared to have been put on that day. He also wore a white linen collar (new) and a white linen handkerchief round his neck. On his feet were striped half hose and good boots, but of different make, one boot being finer and lighter than the other.

Gold sleeve buttons, gold pin and gold or filled case watch and chain, with linen ulster duster and new felt hat of fine quality, “John Hancock” make, completed his costume.

Beneath his clothing he wore a money belt of leather, but it was empty. About a dollar and fifty cents had been taken from the two men, but Chief King, in researching this fellow, found four dollars more. The wound was an ugly, jagged bullet hole, very large, and with the edges much torn, toward the center of the chest and about four inches below the heart. There were also several small shot wounds on the body of this one and three on the forehead; his hat was also riddled with shot, and it was evident that he had been hit twice from a shot gun, for several of the shot wounds were in the back. From photographs sent to the St. Louis police, the man was at once recognized as Clell Miller.

SCENE OF THE BLOODY ENCOUNTER

The empty store in which the two corpses lay, is on Mill Square, which is immediately over on the south side of the handsome iron bridge which spans the Cannon river just below the mill race. On the north side of the square is the flouring mill of Ames & Co. On the west is Scriver’s block and two or three small stores, among them that in which the bodies lay. On the east side is the office of the Rice County _Journal_ and a wagon shop, and on the south is the Dampier House, under which are three stores, the last eastward and just opposite the corner of the Scriver block, is the clothing store of Mr. Hanauer. The Scriver block has also a frontage of 80 feet on Division street, 22 feet of which is occupied by the First National Bank of Northfield, in which one of the saddest and most daring tragedies was perpetrated—the heartless and deliberate murder of a faithful and brave man in the defense of the valuable property under his charge.

There are some four or five wooden buildings below the bank on Fourth street, and it was in this narrow space, from Mill Square to Fourth street, that the great fight which startled the whole country took place. Many indications of the fearful contest in bullet holes were found in every direction. Windows were pierced and shattered and balls must have been thrown around for a time as thick as hail, for the whole encounter took place within the short space of fifteen minutes. The conflict was a sharp and bloody one, and speaks volumes for the coolness and intrepidity of the citizens of the little provincial town.

From Mr. Bates, who took a prominent part in the encounter, the following was learned:

He said at about 11 o’clock his attention was called to four men who came from over the river. They came over the bridge and were mounted on four splendid horses. The men were well dressed, and Mr. Bates says, four nobler looking fellows he never saw; but there was a _reckless, bold swagger_ about them that seemed to indicate that they would be rough and dangerous fellows to handle. Altogether he did not like the looks of them.

Again, at about 2 o’clock in the afternoon, as he was standing at the entrance of the store, talking to Mr. C. C. Waldo, commercial traveler from Council Bluffs, he saw the same men ride past—three came up the street from mill square and one down, street meeting within thirty feet of the bank. They dismounted and tied their horses to the hitching posts and two, he thought, went into the bank and two came down to the staircase leading up into the upper stories of Lee & Hitchcock’s buildings, and here they stood leaning against the banisters talking. Commenting upon their fine physique, and upon their unusually good mounts, Mr. Bates and Mr. Waldo withdrew to the far end of the store to look over some sample trusses.

They had not long been so occupied when they heard several shots fired in rapid succession, and the thought flashed upon the mind of Bates at once, that the bank was in danger—Mr. Waldo stating that he cried out:

“Those men are going for the town, they mean to rob the bank.” Mr. Bates, however, does not recollect saying anything, he became so excited. He remembers, though, rushing to the door, and seeing some men riding up from the bank—they came riding towards him with long pistols in their hands and called out, “Get in there you son of a b——.”

Mr. Bates at once seized a shotgun and ran back to the door, but the gun would not go off. He then put down the gun and seized a fine seven shooter which was _not_ loaded, and as the men came down again, (they were riding to and fro, evidently intent upon keeping people from going towards the bank), he standing behind the door jambs, called out.

“Now, I’ve got you.” And pointed the empty pistol as if drawing a bead on them.

They turned their horses suddenly and fired at Mr. Bates, the ball crashing through the plate glass. There were other men at the bank firing down the street. The next he saw was Mr. J. S. Allen running down the street from the bank, and two shots were fired at him.

Mr. Manning, of Mill Square, whose store is adjoining the block in which the bank is, next came upon the scene. He ran out of his store with a breech loading repeating rifle, and took a deliberate aim and fired from the corner, Mr. Bates calling out:

“Jump back now, or they’ll get you.”

Next Mr. J. B. Hide came up with a double-barrelled shot gun and discharged the two barrels, and retired to re-load. Mr. Phillips also took a turn at the scoundrels, and L. Stacy delivered a cool, deliberate aim. Mr. Bates next heard a report over his head and saw one of the desperadoes fall from his horse. The horse made a faltering plunge forward and then suddenly stopped and the man pitched over with his face to the ground and in a few moments was dead. This shot was fired by Henry Wheeler from an old carbine from out one of the windows of the Dampier House.

Mr. Manning was still firing, and as he crept to the corner Mr. Waldo called out:

“Take good aim before you fire.” Immediately after this shot one of the horses started up the street and the rider began to reel and swing to and fro and suddenly fell to the ground just opposite Eldridge’s store. Another horseman immediately rode up, dismounted, and spoke to the prostrate man, who was stretched out at full length, supporting himself on his outstretched arms, when he rolled over on his back. Then the other man took from him his cartridge belt and two pistols, and, remounting his horse, rode off.

Another horseman, finding Mr. Manning’s fire too hot, dismounted from his horse and got on the opposite side of it for protection, when an unerring ball from the breech loader brought the horse down, the man running behind some boxes which were piled beneath the stair-case before mentioned, and now ensued a

LIVELY FUSILADE

between this fellow and Manning, the scoundrel keeping himself well under cover, but a ball from Wheeler’s musket struck the fellow in the leg, half way above the knee.

He at once changed his pistol to the left hand and grasped the wounded limb with the right, still trying to get at Manning. Finding himself getting weak, he turned and limped off up the street, but, seeing Bates with a pistol in his hand, he sent a ball whizzing toward that gentleman, grazing the side of his cheek and the bridge of his nose, and burying itself in a collar-box in the store.

Mr. Bates says he feels the ring of that ball in his ear still, and the ball, he says, he will ever keep as a souvenir of the hottest day Northfield ever saw.

The man limped away, and when he got opposite to Mr. Morris’ store, he cried out to his retreating companions, “My God, boys, you are not going to leave—I am shot!”

One of the party, riding a sorrel horse with a light tail and mane, turned and took the wounded man up behind him.

MR. F. WILCOX’S STATEMENT.

Mr. Wilcox, the teller of the bank, stated that he, in company with Mr. Heywood and A. E. Bunker, were in the bank at about 2 o’clock, when three well dressed, powerful looking men entered by the door, which was open. They held large revolvers in their hands, and one of them cried out: “Throw up your hands, for we intend to rob the bank, and if you halloo, we will”

BLOW YOUR BRAINS OUT.

They then asked which was the cashier, to which Mr. Heywood replied, “He is not in.” They then sprang over the counter and demanded the safe to be opened. Addressing each in turn they said: “You are the cashier,” which each denied.

Seeing Heywood seated at the cashier’s desk, one of the ruffians went up to him with his long, narrow-barrelled pistol and said:

“You are the cashier; now open the safe, you —— —— son of a ——.” Mr. Heywood said:

“It is a time-lock and cannot be opened now.” One of the men then went into the vault, the door being open. Heywood at once sprang forward and closed the door of the vault, shutting the robber in, when another of the men seized Heywood by the collar and dragged him away from the door and released the incarcerated robber.

The man who came out of the vault—a slim, dark complexioned man, with a black moustache, then called to the others to seize the silver which was lying loose (about $15) and put it in the sack. They did not do this, but seized about twelve dollars in scrip and put it into a two bushel flour sack which they had with them. The dark complexioned man, who appeared to be the leader, then again attacked Heywood, insisting upon his opening the safe, threatening to cut his throat, if he did not, and actually drawing a big knife across his throat.

The heroic and faithful teller, however, was not to be deterred from his duty, and would rather

SACRIFICE HIS LIFE

than betray his trust. Some few moments—it seemed ages to the bewildered and terror-stricken lookers-on—were spent in Heywood’s struggling to break from the murderous villain and gain his liberty.

At length he broke away, and regaining his feet, ran toward the door crying

“MURDER!”

The man at once struck him with a pistol and knocked him down, and, dragging him to the safe door, commanded him to open it. But the intrepid clerk stolidly refused, when the villain shot at him, but did not hit him.

Evidently the shot was intended rather to intimidate him than injure, but the scoundrel had reckoned without his host, for the effect was lost upon Heywood.

But upon the discharge of the pistol Bunker made a start for the back door and ran for dear life, one of the robbers pursuing and firing, the shot taking effect in the shoulder. Bunker, however, reached the street (Water street) and ran to Dr. Coombs’ office.

During the whole of this time four or five men were riding up and down the street, shooting in every direction, and keeping up an incessant fusilade.

One of the men outside came riding up furiously and called for the men to leave the bank.

“THE GAME’S UP.”

he said, “and we are beaten.”

The three men in the bank then sprang over the counter and rushed to the door, and Heywood staggered to the chair, but, as the last one was getting over the counter, with one hand on the cashier’s desk, he turned round and deliberately fired. Heywood fell senseless to the floor! The man then sprang on the rail and out at the front door, and he (Wilcox) cleared out of the back door into Manning’s hardware store.

Wilcox was not sure whether the ruffian struck Heywood when the latter staggered to the cashier’s chair, and he did not stop to see if he was dead when he fell. He said the reason he did not try to get out or help Heywood was that one of the men stood over him with a pistol in his hand.

Mr. Allen said he saw three men cross the bridge and go toward the bank. They were all big, powerful men, well dressed. One had sandy side-whiskers, shaved chin and blue eyes. Another, wore a black mustache, and was a slight but tall man, and better dressed than the others. The third man was heavy set, with curly brown hair, and beard of about one week’s growth. They had tied their horses and talked a while, when another came up, and he went into the bank. Mr. Allen then waited half a minute, and then walked up to the bank to see what was up.

“As I got to the back door,” he says, “one man came out and grabbed me by the collar, and said ‘you son of a——, don’t holler,’ drawing a revolver. I got out and made tracks as fast as I could, two shots feeing fired after me.”

Mr. Ben Henry says that he was first attracted to the strangers by seeing the horses tied, and he went up to one and was examining the saddle, when one of the men came up and said,

“What are you doing here?”

“Looking at this saddle,” was the reply “I want an article like that, and thought perhaps I could strike a bargain with the owner.”

Drawing a pistol, the fellow cried out:

“Now you git’” And he _did_ “git,” but as he walked away a bullet came hissing by his head and struck a wall close by. Henry deliberately picked up the ball and put it in his pocket, but made long strides for home.

It appeared that the object of the men on the street was at first only to keep people back from the bank, and not a desire to murder indiscriminately, but when they found that the Northfield people would not scare worth a cent, and that real work was before them, they showed all the

SAVAGE BLOODTHIRSTY PROPENSITY

of their nature, and wherever a face showed itself, whether it was man, woman or child, the robbers fired murderously at it, crashing in windows in a lively style.

Early Friday morning it was reported in Northfield that Brissette and Hoy had joined their forces at Morristown and had a hot encounter with the gang, which had been reinforced by three others. The police succeeded in killing one man and capturing the wounded man carried from Northfield. The robbers then took to the woods and the police held them there. This report was proved at a later date to be a complete fabrication, but so excited were the people that every rumor received credence and grew in dimensions as it was handed round by the busy throng of news seekers.

THE BANK,

It is in a small apartment, about 20 by 50 feet, situate in the Scriver block, folding doors in the center of the front opening into Division street. It has a counter three feet high, running across to within three feet of the west wall, and going back the whole length of the building. This counter is mounted by a thirty inch glazed rail, leaving a space of two feet in front, where the men jumped over, scratching the counter with their boots. Inside of the center is the safe vault fitted with the Detroit Safe Company’s doors, and to the left is the cashier’s chair where poor Heywood fell a victim to the assassin’s hand. A blotting pad lay upon the desk stained with the life-blood of the murdered man.

HEYWOOD’S DEATH WOUND.

Poor Heywood was shot through the head, the ball entering at the right temple and passing downward and inward, scattering his brains all about, and doubtless depriving him instantaneously of consciousness, and putting him completely beyond all suffering, although he breathed for about twenty minutes, but did not speak. In addition to the bullet wound, there was a slight scratch in the right side of the neck as from a knife.

[BREAKING THE NEWS TO MRS. HEYWOOD.]

BREAKING THE NEWS TO MRS. HEYWOOD.

Mr. E. E. Bunker was not considered dangerously wounded, the ball passing in at the back of the right shoulder, below the point of the shoulder, passing downward and forward and upward, coming out just above the clavicle, making only a severe flesh wound. This wound, however, was very nearly being a fatal one, as the ball passed close to a principal artery, which no doubt, had it been severed by the deadly missive, would have produced death by hemorrhage.

Since the capture at Madelia of the Younger boys, Mr. Bunker has given his recollections of the bank raid, and as it differs in several points from others already given, we embody it in this narrative. It will be seen that the narrative recognizes two of the men who entered the bank as Charley Pitts and Bob Younger.

MR. E. E. BUNKER’S STORY.

Mr. Bunker said that himself, Mr. Heywood and Mr. Wilcox were sitting at their respective desks, when they heard a heavy rush from the bank door to the counter. They turned round and saw three men climbing over the counter and with their knees on it and revolvers pointed directly at the three bank officers. A man presumed to be Jesse James, and who acted as leader, called out, “Throw up your hands, we are going to rob the bank.” James then ran across the room and passed Heywood into the vault, which was open, but seeing the safe door closed, turned back from the entrance and seizing Heywood by the collar who, from being older than the others and from the position of his desk, was naturally supposed to be the cashier, ordered him to open the safe, Mr. Heywood said it was a time lock, and it could not be opened. The other said that was a d—d lie.

Charley Pitts then came up on the other side of Heywood and threatened to kill him if he did not immediately open the safe. One of the others called out, “Let’s cut his throat and be done with it.” Heywood commenced shouting murder and repeated the cry three or four times. They then hustled him about, and James struck him on the head with the butt end of his pistol, knocking him down. He was then dragged towards the vault, where he lay with his head partially in the vault. James then drew the knife across Heywood’s neck, who did not say anything, appearing to be partially insensible, when another of them stooped down and fired close to the prostrate man’s head, the ball penetrating a tin box containing papers in the vault.