How Aunt Polly Prevented a Jail Delivery [pp. 82-86]

HOW AUNT POLLY PREVENTED A JAIL DELIVERY
men. There were sixteen cells on this roor,
in two rows, eight on a side, with an eightfoot corridor between them. From this
corridor an iron door led out into the hall,
from which there was a stairway to the row
of cells in the upper story. At the end of
this hall was another heavy door, which led
into the living rooms of the jailer's family.
The water and provisions for the prisoners
were always carried through this door.
When Aunt Polly took possession of the
jail, there were but few prisoners, but so
well did Uncle Joe bestir himself that inside of three months the lower tier of cells,
except two, were filled by as desperate and
hardened a set of criminals as ever looked
through prison bars. Five were in on the
charge of murder, three for highway robbery, two for arson, and the remaining four
were horse-thieves of the worst type. All
of these prisoners were waiting for the next
session of court, when they would be sent
to the State prison.
While Uncle Joe was wondering who
would occupy the remaining two cells, word
came that a train had been held up at a
place called Slawson, about fifteen miles
below the city. Phillips, on the advice of
Aunt Polly, immediately organized a posse
and started for the scene of the hold-up.
IUncle Joe remained behind to guard the
jail.
The train robbers had had several hours'
start when Phillips and his men arrived at
Slawson, but the posse immediately took the
trail and kept up the pursuit so well, that
the robbers were overtaken, and after a
sharp conflict two were shot dead and the
remaining two captured and brought to the
city, heavily shackled and so bound up with
ropes as to be unable to move a limb. The
instant the posse stopped at the jail they
were surrounded by an excited crowd.
"That's' Missouri Bill,"' they cried, pointing to the larger of the men, who broke out
with a roar of laughter.
"You bet it's me," he shouted. "I feel
a little hungry, so I'11 stop and take a few
meals and then I'll crawl out of your confounded paste-board box."
"Missouri Bill," as he was called, was a
well known criminal in western Kansas at;
that time. He was suspected of several
murders, was a professional horse-thief and!
an all around "bad man." At the time of
his arrest there was a large reward hanging
over his head, and Uncle Joe rubbed his
hands in glee when he was brought in.
The train robbers were forced into the
two remaining cells at the muzzle of a Winchester and left to their own reflections.
Hank Phillips realized what a desperate
character he had to deal with, and although
Missouri Bill actually meant what he said
about escaping, Hank had ideas of his own
on that question.
A few days afterward my aunt invited me
to make them a visit at the jail. My family
lived on a farm about ten miles out of the
city, and when father came in one day with
a load of produce I came with him. I was
only a small boy at the time and vividly remember the awe with which I looked through
the gratings at the men confined in their
cells. Everything was novel and interesting to me, and while I was allowed the freedom of the hall, I was given distinctly to
understand that I was to hold no conversation with the prisoners and above all things
to pass nothing to them through the corridor door.
Phillips's usual custom was to allow the
prisoners the freedom of their corridor during the day time; the men passing the time
in playing cards, reading, or doing whatever
suited their fancy. There was no danger
as the outer door was always locked and
barred, the walls were thick, and the one
window in the corridor was ten feet from
the floor and heavily grated.
Knowing the treacherous character of
Missouri Bill, Phillips did not allow him
to mingle with the rest of the prisoners for
several weeks, but as time passed, and he
showed no signs of putting his threat into
execution, his appeal to "stretch his legs a
little" was granted, although the shackles
were still on his ankles, which prevented, in
a measure, any attempt to escape.
"I guess he can't cut up any dido," remarked my uncle in his usual free-and-easy
way.
Aunt Polly, however, was not so easily
convinced.
" Keep your eye on that man, Hank," she
commanded. "I don't believe he is so penitent as he appears."
Phillips followed her commands to the
letter, and at no time did he abate his
watchfulness, and for about two weeks all
went well. Early one morning the sheriff
from a neighboring county galloped into the