The Opelousas courier., 1903-08-15
THIS is a bit of the unwritten
history Of the Southwest, uh-
worthy of preservation save

guage of one of the chief actors III
the drama, my friend, the train robber,
the only man on record who served
a life sentence at Columbus, Ohio, for
one offense and q fve-year term at
Fort Leavenworth for another stimuli
t~aneously and was purged OF both In
about three years.
But the details of his crimes, coli
vietion, punishment and successful
legal battle for liberty are another
story and 1t has already been written.
That the present story is not couched
in the vernacular of the alkali and
sagebrush melodrama is due to the
fact that the man who told it is a
graduate of the University of West
Virginia and as a condition precedent
to becoming a knight of the road was
prosecuting attorney Of an Oklahoma
county in the early days when the
picking was better than it is now.
He was not an imposing nor a par
ticularly heroic figure as he sat in the
dingy old city room and told his story
10 Tile dCCUllpuliLlSl4I VI q NOHNA ~A4>A
ing typewriters grinding out late copy.
He was a ~red-headed, five-foot scrap of
humanity with the prison pallor on
his countenance and the prison faint
enveloping him as a garment, but he
had a cold. %steel-blue eye, a fighting
jaw and a mouth that closed IN as
strong and expressionless a line as the
two halves of a steel trap. AS be
talked one could understand how in
the free and law1ess atmosphere of the
conscientious man, hot on the trail of
his brothers murderer, as he had
been, might through a combination OF
fortuitous circumstances and atavistic
impulse, become in turn a hunted out
law. lie was but five hours out Of the
United States prison at Fort Leaven-
worth, and the reason for his being
there and the manner Of his release
made his story news. Not as thrilling,
possibly, as the telegraph stories that
used to come in over the wire when his
"gang" was alleged to be terrorizing
the twin territories, but interesting as
marking the close of an episode in the
winning of the West.
"And l guess thatll be about all" he
said, as he finished the recital.
"Rut surely there must be some in
eidents during all that time to which
you can revert without regret" was
suggested.
swell, yes" was the response, and
q reminiscent look came into his eyes.
"There was one case that doesn't give
me unmixed grief when l think of it.
One day during the recent unpleasant
ness I was in Western Texas on my
way to California by an unfrequented
route, as main travelled roads were a
been in the saddle t~hirty-six hours on
end and without food for a day, sc you
can imagine how glad / was to come
upon a solitary dugout with a rusty
stovepipe sticking up through the roof,
the first I had seen for three days. I
called for several minutes before any
one came, but finally the door slowly
opened and a woman stuck her head
cautiously out.
"Say, she was a picture of poverty.
Thin faced, gaunt to the point of atten-
uation, dressed as far as | could judge
In a single scant calico garment, and
barefoot. Several tow-headed kids
with scared faces were peeping out
from behind her and holding on to her
dress.
"tHello,' she responded family to the
usual SALVATION of the plains.
"tI've rode a day without eating and
am nearly famished,' 1 said. Can't
you fix me some dinner? I'll pay you
well for It,
"tStranger,' she replied, I'D be
mighty glad to, but there amt a thing
to eat on the place and we're pretty
hungry ourselves
"Tm reasonably hardened, but the
look in that woman's eyes and those Of
the kids at the mere mention of food
touched me, and having learned that
the nearest rancho was twelve miles
away I rode over there and back as
fast as my tined cayuse could carry me,
with bacon, spuds, flour and coffee
enough to last a week. Man, it was
pitiful to see those hungry kids chew
ing a raw bacon rind to stay their
pinched little stomachs while the moth
er was cooking something for US to eat.
Well, we all gorged ourselves, and af-
ter supper, stimulated by the food and
coffee, the Woman told me their story.
II had wondered where her husband
was, and she told me he had gone a
week before owe about 100 miles east
where a man owed him some money,
and she had expected him back for sew
eral days. Her supplies were exhaust
ed, and she and the children were in
desperate straits when I p~rovidentially
drove up. She was sure something
must have happened to her husband,
and the worry about him was added
to her other troubles. 1t seems they
had formerly owned q little farm over
in Eastern Texas, but some Shylock
of a cashier in a country bank had
made them a small loan and closed
them out when they were unable to
pay the interest. Then they drifted
around for a year or two, and finally
stranded high and dry in that dugout
In the short grass. / left her some
money and went on the next morning,
feeling mighty chesty over the thought
that I had helped some one out Of the
hole, but I remembered the name of the
town and the bank. and made up my
mind some dav would break even