The weekly pioneer and Democrat. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn. Territory) 1855-1865, 1865-08-25
THE SHERIFF'S STORY.

THE SHERIFF'S STORY.
In the autumn of AZ, on my way home
from the West, l foand myself obliged to
put up for the night at the inn of a small
settlement on the Wabash. The day had
been dark and lowry, and the evening set
in with driving storm. After supper, a
goodly company assembled in the bar
room; and storytelling became the order
of the occasion. Among our number was
q gray-haired man, whose name, Learned,
was Warren Alton. He was past three
score, but his gestures and vigor beto-
kened all the vigor of middle age.
A number of stories had been told, and
finally all eyes were directed toward Al
ton. Some had called his name, and hint
ed that his time had come.
Gentlemen" be said, "if you choose
to listen, can give you short story
touching q certain criminal, that I once
had the pleasure of arresting."
OF course we all would listen.
Twenty years ago, or thereabOuts, I"
commenced Mr.. Alton, 81 was Sheriff of
Jefferson county. Close by a sharp bend
of the Bottom Branch Greek was located
quite settlement, called jackson and
nine miles distant in southerly direction
was the town of Huntsville. The creek,
after bending around Jackson settlement,
took sweep to the West and then turned
back, crossed the track about midway be-
tween these two places. Seven miles were
through low, dismal swamp, where the
road for 8 long distance was corduroy of
oak logs. On this dark and sunken road,
travellers had been murdered and robbed.
Two years before / came into Office as
many as six had been found by the way
side in the swamp. After l became Sher-
if, the trouble was renewed, and / went
down to Huntsville to leok into the mat
ter. I found one of my deputies there-a
fair, honorable man, named Watson. BE
told me every exertion had been made to
apprehend the perpetrators of the murder,
but without effect In fact the officers
had not yet been able to fix suspicion.
/ reached Huntsville in the evening, and
on the following morning / rode down with
Watson upon the corduroy road. The
place was truly dismal and dark enough.
tangled, matted growth of cypress, cotton
wood and running vines and in many
places the logs had sunk so far that the
mud and water flowed over them. And
this piece of swamp by the road, was
seven miles in extent. About half through
we came to the bridge that crossed the
creek-not q bridge such as we usually
see. but sunken mass of timber pinned
down by piles and ties, 80 that the stream
could be forded. 1t was near this spot, /
was told, that most of the murders had
taken place.
On the following morning word was
brought that another man had been found
dead and robbed in the swamp. Watson
and l posted off with many others, and
found it to be as had been related The
dead man lay upon the roadside, about
two rods from the bridge, with his skull
broken and his pockets empty. A score
Of people from jackson were already there,
and soon learned that the murdered man
had stopped at the latter place on the eve
ming before. 1 whispered to Watson that
Imust not be known, and bade him not re-
cOgnize me any more in public. After
this mingled with the people of Jack
son, and gathered what information could,
and at length the following facts appeared:
The murdered man was not known in that
section. He had arrived at jackson on
the evening before, on horseback, and
put up at that place. He had started on
his way very early in the morning, and was
next day found dead by boy who had
come down to the creek to look at some
traps which he had set the previous day.
The man who had kept the inn at jack
son was present, and had been helping 10
identify the dead body. His name was
Lamar Stoker, and the moment rested
nv eyes upon him / disliksd him. He was
q short, square-built man, with tremen-
dous breadth of shoulders, small bullet
shaped head, with prominent cheek bones,
and small, thin ears, buttoned back hat
upon his skull. / was close by him, en-
gagged in studying his physiognomy, when
an old gentleman, who had come down on
horseback, approached and spoke to him {:
"I say, Stoker, what time did this man
leave your inn this morning?" the gentle
man asked.
"As soon as it was daylight" replied
Stoker. 81 told him he had better wait
for company, but he was in hurry"
wonder If he had much money about
him?"
AT this query, Stoker betrayed me sus-
piclous sign, for l was watching him very
closely. He tried to look surprised that
such question should be put to him.
"How doyou suppose know ?" was the
reply. "He may have had thousand
dollars, and he mayn't have had a dollar,
l can't tell"
"But where's his horse?" asked the old
man.
"His horse was found in my yard by
my hostler, just after breakfast"
"Was there any blood on him p
81 guess not"