Part 6 (2/2)

The lieutenant's report was encouraging. The city itself was poorly garrisoned; the camp beyond was not formidable; the streets were wide.

”You have heard the report,” said Quantrell when the lieutenant finished.

”It is a long march; we march through soldiers; we attack soldiers; we must retreat through soldiers. What shall it be? Speak out. Anderson!”

”Lawrence or h.e.l.l,” relied Anderson, instantly. With fire flas.h.i.+ng in his eyes as he recalled the recent wreck from which his sister had been taken in Kansas City, he added: ”But with one proviso, that we kill every male thing.”

”Todd?” called Quantrell.

”Lawrence, if I knew that not a man would get back alive.” ”Gregg?”

This was Capt. William Gregg, who still lives in Kansas City, one of the bravest men that ever faced powder, and in action the coolest, probably, in the entire command.

[Ill.u.s.tration: William Gregg]

William Gregg

”Lawrence,” he relied. ”It is the home of Jim Lane; the nurse of Jayhawkers.”

”Jarrette?”

”Lawrence, by all means,” my brother-in-law answered. ”It is the head devil of the killing and burning in Jackson county. I vote to fight it and with fire burn it before we leave.”

Shepherd, d.i.c.k Maddox, so on, Quantrell called the roll.

”Have you all voted?” shouted Quantrell.

There was no word.

”Then Lawrence it is; saddle up.”

We reached Lawrence the morning of the 21st. Quantrell sent me to quiz an old farmer who was feeding his hogs as to whether there had been any material changes in Lawrence since Lieut. Taylor had been there. He thought there were 75 soldiers in Lawrence; there were really 200.

Four abreast, the column dashed into the town with the cry:

”The camp first!”

It was a day of butchery. Bill Anderson claimed to have killed fourteen and the count was allowed. But it is not true that women were killed.

One negro woman leaned out of a window and shouted:

”You-of-.”

She toppled out dead before it was seen she was a woman.

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