a dutch colonel, with his company of men, one day came into piser’s saloon in independence, mo., and got to drinking pretty freely and said to piser, the saloon keeper:

“dose you’se knows where dot quantrell, dot kill-devil, iss? gife us another drink. we are going out and get dot quantrells today, brings his scalps in on ours vidle bits.”

piser, a friend of both federals and confederates, pleaded with him to leave the job alone. the dutch colonel wore a pair of earrings as big as a ring in a bull’s nose.

“give us another drinks,” the dutch colonel said. “ills tells youse we are going after quantrells, and ven i finds him i is going to says, ‘haltz!’ and ven i says ‘haltz’ dot means him stops a little viles.”

so they took the independence and harrisonville road and found quantrell camped close to old man grinter’s and as usual always ready for any surprise, for he had been surprised so much. when the dutch colonel and his company came in sight, quantrell ordered his men to mount and charge, which they did, and when the smoke cleared away only two remained to tell the story. they were a couple hundred yards away sitting on their horses cursing us, calling us all kinds of d——d “secesh,” telling us to come on. i said172 to sim whitsett, “let’s give them a little chase. they seem to be so brave.” we took after them but they would not stand. they broke and ran. we ran them for a quarter of a mile down the big road. one fell off his horse dead, the other one jumped off and ran into old man grinter’s house. mrs. grinter was in the yard. he ran to her and said, “hide me.” she put him under a bee gum. sim and i stopped but never could find him. sim does not to this day like the grinter name. sim said, “i got the earring, but he is the lad.” he afterwards gave them to a girl on texas prairie, missouri. poor old dutchman. he lost his life with all his men but one.