While we were waiting the change of mail at Lower Le Sueur, the deputy sheriff asked me to get out of the stage, and said to me: "Major [I was called major in those days], had we not better take another look at those fellows in the stage? They are going out of the country when everybody is coming in. It looks to me suspicious." I agreed with him, and took another look. I at once discovered that they were both dressed from head to foot in new slop-shop clothes, indicating the necessity for an entire change of costume, and I concluded from this clue there were sufficient grounds to suspect them. So the deputy sheriff said: "You hold the stage ten or fifteen minutes, and I'll go to Henderson, and take out a warrant, and arrest them on the arrival of the stage; so that, if we are mistaken, no particular harm will be done." He started on. I got my hand-bag out of the boot, and buckled on my six-shooter, all of which was seen by the thieves, who must have fully understood the program; at least, such must have been the case with the Frenchman, as subsequent events led me to doubt whether the German was a participant in the theft, or more than a mere deserter. I had a sense of uneasiness about the double-barrelled shotgun carried by the German, but I thought I could handle the other man. We started, and, much to my relief, when we reached the ferry over the river, the German fired one barrel of his gun at a pigeon, and snapped several caps on the other, which refused to go off. As we approached Henderson, quite a crowd had gathered at the hotel to see the arrest, and just as the stage swung up to the sidewalk, the Frenchman took out of his pocket a small penknife, the largest blade of which could not have been over four inches long. He opened it so quietly that it did not excite my apprehensions in the least, although I had my right hand on my six-shooter, intending to draw and cover him the moment the stage stopped. He made a desperate lunge at his breast with the knife, and handing me a carpetbag which lay on his lap, he said, "The money is all in this bag, sir," just as if we had been talking the whole matter over. I, fearing that he might strike at me with the knife, drew my revolver and struck him sharply over the knuckles, making the knife fly out of the window, and seizing him by the throat with my left hand, I covered him with my pistol. The stage stopped. Retaining my hold on him, and still covering him with my pistol, we got out of the stage, on the sidewalk. He wavered for a second, and fell dead. He had put the knife an inch into his heart. I found in a belt on his body, and in the bag $5,320 in gold, which I deposited in the United States land office, at Henderson, subject to the order of Major Cullen, who got it all in good time. The Frenchman had in his pocket some letters from a lady in Strasburg, written in French, conveying some very tender sentiments. I never thought he was a bad man, but had yielded, as many do, to a strong