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. From beneath the riding skirt a heavy foot emerged; the old horse in the blind bridle seemed to undergo an electric impulse; there was t

he gliding of the old hand which the sergeant had

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inspected into the basket, and a cocked pistol came out and was fired almost before it got in sight. With his grasp still upon the reins o

f the old woman’s bridle, the Federal picket fell

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dead under the feet of the horse. Then stupified, the impotent reserve saw a weird figure dash away down the81 road, its huge bonnet flap

ping in the wind, and the trail of an antique ridi

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ng skirt, split at the shoulders, streaming back as the smoke that follows a furnace. Coleman Younger had accomplished his mission. Beneat

h the bonnet and the bombazine was the Guerrilla,

and beneath the white cloth of the basket and its apples and beets and beans the unerring revolvers. The furthest picket heard the firing, saw the apparition, bethought himself of the devil, and took to the brush. ?/p>

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癉uring this month’s stay in prison, being chained down, drinking coffee sweet as molasses, when they knew I did not like sweetened coffee they made it that much sweeter, running a boxing

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match, having songs sung to me of the sweet South in an insulting way and being janitor for the jail and thousands of other things that go with a prison life, and while Cole Younger was g

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etting information under disguise as an old lady Sally selling apples and cookies to the Federals three days before, I made my bond, my father being a union man and interceding with Colone