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THE WHIRLWIND OF DESTRUCTION CHANGES.

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in january, 1865, quantrell collected together nearly fifty of his old followers, among whom was frank james, and started for the hills of kentucky, where he expected to continue his warfare. their route lay south-east, and before they got out of missouri they came very near falling into the hands of curtis, who pursued them hard almost to the [pg 32]arkansas line, where the trail was lost. the guerrillas crossed the mississippi river at gaine's landing, nearly twenty miles above memphis, and made their way through tennessee, entering kentucky from the south. at hartford, in ohio county, the command met a squad of thirty militia under command of capt. barnett, whom they readily deceived into the belief that they were federal troops searching for guerrillas, and that quantrell was a federal captain. indeed the deception was played so successfully that barnett was induced to accompany them upon an expedition. quantrell managed to communicate with each of his men, whom he instructed to ride beside the federals, and when he should draw his handkerchief and throw it over his shoulder it was the signal for the slaughter. at about five o'clock in the afternoon frank james rode up beside capt. barnett, while quantrell moved forward, and as his horse stepped into a shallow branch where all his men could see him, he drew the fatal handkerchief, and without looking back he waved it and then threw it over his shoulder. there was a rattle of pistol shots and capt. barnett and his men fell dead under their horses.

near hopkinsville the guerrillas met twelve federal cavalrymen who sought the shelter of a barn and gave battle. the fight lasted for more than an hour, and until the barn was fired, when the twelve brave fellows were forced from their defense and were[pg 33] shot as they rushed from the flames. their horses then became the property of the guerrillas. frank james stopped one day with an uncle, who lives about fifty miles from hopkinsville, and thus permitted the command to get so far ahead of him that he did not engage in any more skirmishes in kentucky; for, two days afterward, quantrell was driven into a small village called smiley, where, finding escape impossible, he made his last stand. it was forty against nearly three hundred, and quantrell knew that it was a fight to the death. bleeding almost at every pore, the black-bannered bandit fought like the gladiators, until, blinded by his own blood, and with a score of gaping wounds, he fell mortally wounded, with an empty pistol in one hand and a bloody sword in the other. it was thus that the entire force of quantrell's guerrillas died, excepting frank james, whose life was spared for darker deeds.

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