son was the
bartender. It was upstairs over a restaurant run by Archie McLeod, who is
still in St. Paul.

Chadwell and I were nearly $300 ahead of the game when Bob came along and
insisted on sitting in, and we left the table. I never would play in a
game where Bob was.

Early in the last week in August we started on the preliminary work for
the Northfield expedition.

27. HORACE GREELEY PERRY

When we split up in St. Paul Howard, Woods, Jim and Clell Miller were to
go to Red Wing to get their horses, while Chadwell, Pitts, Bob and myself
were to go to St. Peter or Mankato, but Bob and Chadwell missed the train
and they had me in a stew to know what had happened to them. We watched
the papers, but could find nothing about any arrest, and Pitts and I
bought our horses at St. Peter. I was known as King, and some of the
fellows called me Congressman King, insisting that I bore some resemblance
to Congressman William S. King of Minneapolis. I bought two horses, one
from a man named Hodge and the other from a man named French, and while we
were breaking them there at St. Peter I made the acquaintance of a little
girl who was afterward one of the most earnest workers for our parole.

A little tot then, she said she could ride a horse, too, and reaching down
I lifted her up before me, and we rode up and down. I asked her name and
she said it was "Horace Greeley Perry," and I replied:

"No wonder you're such a little tot, with such a great name."

"I won't always be little," she replied. "I'm going to be a great big
girl, and be a newspaper man like my pa."

"Will you still be my sweetheart then, and be my friend?" I asked her, and
she declared she would, a promise I was to remind her of years later under
circumstances of which I did not dream then.

Many years afterward with a party of visitors to the prison came a girl,
perhaps sixteen, who registered in full "Horace Greeley Perry."

I knew there could not be two women with such a name in the world, and I
reminded her of her promise, a promise which she did not remember,
although she had been told how she had made friends with the bold bad man
who afterwards robbed the bank at Northfield.

Very soon afterward, at the age of eighteen, I believe, she became, as she
had dreamed in childhood, a "newspaper man," editing the St. Peter
Journal, and to the hour of my pardon she was one of the most
indefatigable workers for us.

A few years ago failing h