St. Paul daily globe., 1892-01-04

was coming. 1t would not do to stir up
the fire and cook supper, and she lay
down to rest, hungry and anxious for
the safety of her husband and comrades.
Later in the night, attracted by the
smell of fresh meat, wild vermin came
to feed upon the carcass of the pig, and
skunks and opossums snarled and
fought over IL until wildcat came and
drove them all away. Not fifty feet
away lay Sally, a keen bowie knife in
her plump little hand,
10 Settle the Wildcat
If he should attack her. She feared to
fire her revolver at him, lest the report
should bring back the Kansas men, who
were as fierce as wildcats. and for other
reasons more to be dreaded. All the
next day she hid in the brush, from
where she could watch the camp, hop
ing some of the boys would return, but
toward evening, half-famished from
hunger and thirst, she hid her weapons
and equipments and made her way to a
house two miles distant, where the rem
nant OF a family lived. Here, the next
day, she was joined by her husband
and three or four of his men,
who. somehow, had picked up a
horse apiece, and soon they were on the
warpath again. That night, as sally
and her husband were sleeping OH a
broad, open prairie, i'll Barton county,
she suddenly awoke with an unaccount-
able sense of impending danger. She
had task to induce her husband to
move camp, but they had not gotten half
mile away when body of Union cav
airy rode over the ground they had just
quilted. AT another time Sally and
Dave Majors and two other couples
n n
timber i'll the eastern part of Vernon.
Dave had mounted his horse, a
large. fine claybank, and was about set
ting forth on scout. Sally was stand
ing by the horse, Stroking its name and
chatting with her big bushwhacker hus-
band. Two other horses were near by,
Saddled and bridled, but haltered to
saplings. All at once a squad of Cedar
county militia burst upon them. Dave
Majors big claybank sprang away with
him. One OF the other guerrillaS Sprang
upon the back of a fastened horse and
sought to unite the halter by leaning
forward over the saddle. Stung by a
bullet, the horse drew the batter taut,
and Sally ran to unite 1t herself. While
her fingers were
Busy the Bushyhacker
severed the rein with his knife and the
animal sprang fairly over the woman,
knocking her down. She arose, her
flying around her, and went into the
cabin, to the great terror Of the other
women, who thought she must be NOR
tally wounded. One of the guerrillas
was killed; do not remember his name,
but L know that Sally and the other
women buried him, and his grave may
yet be seen. Sally was splendid
hOrS ewoman, and to save mans life at
Fort Scott she once rode 120 miles in
twelve hours, across country. leaplng
avines, skurrying through woodlands
and half-swimming creeks, without an
hours rest or wink of sleep. Eliza
McGOvern, Newton county girl.
tall and finely formed, was another girl
guerrilla. Her husband belonged to
Iiyingston's band for time, but was
killed in the fall of 1863 on the wire
road" between Springfield and Cass-
VILE. She was captured the next day
in male attire, from hat to spurs. and
armed cap-a-pie. She was taken to
Springfield, but in few days somehow
cOntrlyed to escape, and, mounting a
sore-backed cavalry horse which had
been turned loose to die, she made her
way over the spurs of the OZarkS to her
old haunts. A few weeks later, with
half a dozen male companions, she
captured two furloughed Kansas sol
dierS on their way home and
Shot Them to Death
on the banks of Spring river, in Jasper
county. She died in the summer of
1864, in a guerrilla camp, near Mount
Vernon, with none but men about her,
at time when she most needed the
ministrations of her own sex. Ben
a q fo VII mn
rilla, one of Bill Anderson's best-or
w0rst-men, threw his life away be-
cause his sweetheart, Lexington girl,
beautiful as Edith of the swans neck"
had played him false for another bush
whacker. 1t was after the Huntsville
and Sheibina raid, and Anderson was
retreating westward through Charlton,
pursued and harrassed by Reeves Leon
ard, with the Howard county COM
pany of the Ninth NJ. S. NJ. The guer-
rillas had halted at a farmhouse for din
ner, and to allow the horses backs to
cool. But before the meal could be pre-
pared the picket gave warning that
Leonard and his men were in sight, and
Anderson commanded Saddle upE"
Broomtield had been brooding over the
perfidy of his enchantress for some days,
and was moody and wotish. Now, as
his comrades were riding away, he sud-
denly faced about in the road toward
the FederalS, refined up his horse and
drew his revolvers.
.'Come on, Ben! What's the matter
with you? Don't you see that the Feds
will kill you ?'' shouted Anderson.
LET 'em kill and be d." sullenly
replied Ben.
Sure enough. the Federals came gal
Ieping up, and, one man to sixty,
Broomfield was no match for them. He
tired to
Sell His Life Dearly.
but was shot dead from his saddle be-
fore he had done much harm. He told
Jessie Hamlet, and Jessie told me. that
he could not live without his sweet
heart, and that if the Feds" did not
kill him he would take his own life.
Old Chaucer asks: What will not
mon do gyf thot he bin in luve?"
Bill Anderson's sisters were not guer-
rillas outright, but they did what they
could to help their brothers, Bill and
Jim, after they ''started out" In the
spring of 1868. The girls were forced
to leave their homes in Lyon county,
Kan. and took refuge in jackson coun-
ty, Mo-, after their brothers killed Capt.
Beatty and burned his store. On
very common charge against rebel
women in those days, "aidihg bush
whackers," they were arrested and put
in the female prison at Kansas City.
Tho buildjn0 in which thpy and OthprS