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CHAPTER XIII
PORTER CAPTURES PALMYRA

With the disastrous defeats and scattering of the guerrilla bands of Poindexter, Cobb and Porter, it looked as if Northeast Missouri was, at last, free from partisan warfare, but such did not prove to be the case. Porter had escaped, and was soon back in his old haunts, gathering together as many of his followers as possible.

Harry Semans reported this fact to McNeil, who had now been appointed general in the Missouri militia. That officer could hardly believe that Porter would be able to gather a force large enough to do much damage, but he bade Harry be watchful and report at the first signs of danger.

"Hist! Bruno, keep quiet!"

It was Harry Semans, who was once more lying in a thicket by the side of the road, and as usual the faithful Bruno was by his side. The dog was now showing that he scented danger.

Harry's method of scouting was peculiar. When in need of information he and Bruno generally scouted alone, and that during the night.

In the daytime he would lie concealed in some thicket, close to a road, his horse always picketed some distance from him. He would observe any men that passed along the road, the direction they were going, and thus be able to determine whether the guerrillas were gathering for a raid or not. If so, it was his duty to find their rendezvous, report with all possible speed, and bring a Federal force down upon them.

When he thought best, he had no scruples in passing himself off as a guerrilla. It was only in case of urgent necessity that he rode in the daytime. For one reason he did not wish the guerrillas to know he was always accompanied by a dog. In the night he could not be recognized, and he was never in fear of a surprise, for Bruno always gave warning.

To the guerrillas it was a matter of wonderment how the Federals so often found out their secret hiding places, and many a suspected Union man was accused of giving information, and suffered in consequence, when it was Harry who was the guilty party.

Feeling safe, McNeil had left only one small company in Palmyra to guard the place, and to protect the prisoners, of whom he had nearly a hundred. He was away looking after other posts in his territory.

The news of McNeil's absence and the small number of soldiers at Palmyra was borne to Porter and he determined to make a raid on the village, liberate the prisoners, and capture some of the Union citizens who had made themselves obnoxious to Porter and his gang.

The news was given out and the guerrillas were rallying at a given place in the western part of the county. It was this gathering of the guerrillas that Harry was now watching.

He quickly quieted the dog and the cause of his excitement was now apparent, for six men came riding past, all armed to the teeth.

"There is deviltry on foot, old fellow," whispered Harry to Bruno, "and it 's up to us to find out what it is. There's twenty of these villains ridden past since we've been hiding here.

"How I wish I could hear what they are saying," continued Harry. "I must, I will find out what's brewing."

Harry was in a place which he could not safely leave before night, so he waited impatiently for the coming darkness. As soon as he dared he made his way back to where he had left his horse, and cautiously led it to the road. He then mounted and rode in the direction the guerrillas had taken. Two or three times Bruno gave warning, and Harry quietly drew out by the side of the road and let men pass.

He had gone some two or three miles when he came to a main road leading to Palmyra. Bruno showed unusual excitement, and Harry stopped and listened intently. From up the road there came the sound of the trampling of horses, as if a large body of cavalry was coming.

"Quick, Bruno, we must get out of this," exclaimed Harry, and wheeling his horse he rode back a short distance. Then he rode into a clump of bushes where he dismounted and tied the horse. "I dare not leave you too near the road when that cavalry passes, you might give me away," he said, patting his horse's neck. "Bruno, you stay here."

Back on the run went Harry. Climbing a fence he quickly made his way to the road over which the cavalry must pass. Here a fence ran close to the road and the corners were overgrown with weeds and brush, making a safe hiding place.

He was none too soon. Six men came riding by. "An advance guard," muttered Harry.

In a short time the head of the column appeared, and in front rode two men. As they came abreast of Harry he heard one of them say, "What time do you expect to attack Palmyra, Colonel?"

"Just at daybreak." It was the voice of Colonel Porter that answered.

Harry breathed hard. It was Palmyra that was to be attacked, and he knew the weakness of the garrison. He calculated as closely as he could the number that passed, and concluded there must be about four hundred in the band.

What was he to do? The whole force was squarely between him and Palmyra. He could never get through that body of men. He must ride around. But would he have time? Could he find his way in the darkness? He could try.

Harry waited until the last man had passed, then going back he mounted his horse and followed the band. So close was he after them that three or four stragglers overtook him, and taking him for one of their number, told him to hurry up or he would be too late for the fun.

"My hoss is plumb tired out," was Harry's answer, "but I reckon I will git thar in time."

After riding three or four miles Harry came to a road that he believed might enable him to get around Porter's force, and by hard riding get to Palmyra first and give warning. Taking the road he put his horse to a fast gallop. Two or three times he was hailed as he passed houses, but he dashed on regardless of the fact that a bullet might be sent after him.

He soon became aware that the road was taking him away instead of in the direction he wished to go. He brought his horse down to a walk.

"I'm afraid it's all up," he sighed, "but I will never cease trying until all hope is gone."

Keeping a sharp lookout he soon came to a road that ran in the direction he wished to go. True the road seemed but little traveled, but it was his only hope, so he turned into it, and again urged his horse forward.

The road twisted and turned and Harry soon lost all idea of direction. Worse than all, it grew fainter and fainter and soon became little more than a trail. Harry felt himself hopelessly lost. He knew not where he was, nor in what direction he wanted to go, but he knew by the woods which bordered the trail he must be near a stream.

Soon he came to a clearing, in the middle of which stood a rough log house. There was a light burning in the house, and before it a horse stood saddled and bridled, and Harry noticed that a shotgun lay across the saddle.

Though he knew it was risky he determined to stop and find out where he was and to inquire the shortest way to Palmyra. Hitching his horse and telling Bruno to keep out of sight, but near him, he carefully made his way to the house. He soon became satisfied it was tenanted only by a man and woman; if there were children they were asleep.

The man kept coming to the door and looking out as if he expected some one. Harry saw he was a sinister looking fellow, and that he wore a belt which held in place a huge revolver. Harry waited until the man had closed the door after one of his visits, and then marching boldly up he gave a short rap.

The door was immediately opened and the man he had seen exclaimed, "Hello, Steve, yo' un air late." When he saw Harry he stopped and his hand went to his belt, "Who be yo' un," he growled, "and what do yo' un want?"

"Don't be alarmed, pard," laughed Harry. "I reckon yo' un and I air in the same class. I'm from Shelby an' on my way to join Porter. Yo' un knows we 'uns air to make it hot for the Yanks in Palmyra. I have lost my way, an' want to know whar I kin find the direct road to Palmyra."

"Yo' un only have to foller the trail to the branch, cross it and yo' un will strike the main road. But I kalkerlate to have a hand in that little job at Palmyra myself. Have three or four debts to pay, one agin old Allsman. He reported me to McNeil as a dangerous char'ter. He'll never peach agin if I lay hands on him."

"Thank yo' un. I'll be goin'," said Harry, "or I'm afraid I'll be late."

"Hold on, pard," said the man. "I be jest waitin' for Steve and Sol Jones. We 'uns will all go together."

"Sorry I can't wait. I must be goin'," replied Harry, turning to go.

"Stop!" cried the man, hoarsely.

Harry wheeled, his hand on his revolver.

"Better not," drawled the man, with a grin. "The old woman has you kivered and she's a dead shot."

Harry glanced up. Sure enough the woman, a gaunt, muscular virago, stood in the door, a rifle at her shoulder, and Harry saw that he could look right into the muzzle.

"Ha! Ha!" chuckled the fellow, "yo' un didn't count on that, did yo' un? Fact is, I didn't take to yo' un's story and I giv' the old woman a sign to look out. If yo' un be from Shelby, how'd it happen yo' un got in this timber along the branch. Yo' un may be all right, and if yo' un air it will be no hurt for yo' un to wait and go with we 'uns. Thar, stop fingering that thar revolver, or I'll giv' the old woman the wink. Better up with yo' hands. Thar, I heah Steve and Sol comin'. If yo' un don't prove all right, we 'uns will have a hangin' bee before we 'uns start. Hands up, I tell yo' un."

Harry was still looking into the muzzle of the rifle. It seemed to him as big as a cannon. His hands slowly went up, but as they did so he gave a low, peculiar whistle. Like a flash a great black body bounded through the air and Bruno's teeth were buried in the shoulder of his victim. The force of the impact threw the fellow over, and as he fell Harry ducked.

The woman fired, but the shot went wild. In a moment Harry had wrenched the gun from her, and with a blow bent the barrel of the rifle around the door frame. But now was heard the approach of horses, and the cries of men. Steve and Sol Jones were coming, and the sound of the rifle shot had alarmed them.

"Here, Bruno, come quick," commanded Harry. But Bruno was unwilling to release his victim, and it took a hard cuff and a sharp command to make him let go. Steve and Sol were now there, excitedly crying, "What's up? What's up?"

Without a word Harry opened fire. One of the horses and the rider went down; the other wheeling his horse, was off like a shot, fortunately going the way Harry had come.

Without waiting to learn the result of his shots, Harry rushed for his horse and rode away. He reached the branch spoken of, and, crossing it, was soon on the highroad to Palmyra. But Porter and his men were still in between him and the place.

Harry now came to where he was acquainted with the country. He could ride around Porter, but it was a good six or eight miles out of his way. "I can never do it and be in time," he groaned, "but I may do some good." Again his good horse was urged to a stiff gallop.

Day was just breaking and Harry was still three miles from Palmyra, but he had got past Porter, and would enter the place from the east. He was congratulating himself that he might still be in time, when the faint echo of firearms was borne to him on the breeze. Spurring his horse forward he rode some distance, then halted and listened.

The sounds of firing were unmistakable, but the reports were scattering, not as if any considerable number of men were engaged.

Harry reached the fair grounds on the eastern edge of town. Here he unstrapped the blanket from his saddle, and carrying it into a vacant stall, said to Bruno, "Old fellow, watch that blanket until I come back."

The dog lay down by the side of the blanket, and Harry patted his head and told him to keep his eyes open, then he left him, thinking to return shortly.

Harry now rode boldly forward, thinking he would have no trouble in passing himself off as one of the guerrillas. He soon saw squads of them riding through the town and stopping at the different houses. He shuddered, for he knew Union men lived in every one of those houses.

The firing up in the center of the town now grew more severe.

"Seems as if they air havin' quite a time up thar," he said to a guerrilla whom he met.

"Yes," growled the fellow. "The Yanks have got into the court house and a brick store. Porter ordered them to surrender and they answered if he wanted them to com' an' take them. That they'd fight till the last man fell before they'd surrender. The Kunnel will find it hard work to get them out without cannon."

Harry's heart gave a great bound. If the Federals were in the court house and a brick store, they might hold out for hours. Might he not get help from Hannibal? McNeil was at Monticello, only thirty miles away, with part of the Merrill Horse. Would it be possible to bring help to the besieged men? He would try, and he turned up a side street.

"Hullo! Whar be yo' un goin'?" asked the guerrilla.

"Thar's a feller up here aways I've got an account to settle with, an' I'll git him no matter what happens," exclaimed Harry, fiercely. Then a happy thought came to him, "Say," he asked, "didn't the Kunnel tell us whar to rally after this affair was over?"

"Yes, at Whaley's Mill," was the answer.

"Wall, I must git my man an' then I'll find yo' un," Harry answered.

On the outskirts of the village Harry met another guerrilla who told him he had better be getting back, as Porter had given up all hopes of capturing the soldiers in the court house, and they were going to gather up their booty and prisoners and evacuate the place.

"Very well," answered Harry. "Thar is one feller out heah I want to get, an' I'm goin' to get him."

"Better hurry up then," replied the guerrilla.

Porter had no idea of holding the place when he made the raid. His orders were that while some of his force should engage the soldiers at the court house, the rest should disperse through the city and arrest every Union man in the place; expressly were they ordered to find and arrest Andrew Allsman, who had made himself very obnoxious to them by acting as guide to the Union forces.

Allsman was found in bed. He was dragged out, ordered to dress himself, and taken away.

Porter expected to find a large quantity of arms and munitions of war in the place. In this he was disappointed, but he succeeded in taking the jail and liberating a number of prisoners.

One Union citizen was shot down as he stood in the door of his house.

The soldiers, in defending the court house, had a few men wounded. The guerrillas lost one killed and had several wounded.

When Porter withdrew from the place he halted on the outskirts of the village and paroled all his prisoners except four, and one of the four was Allsman.

This done he started for the appointed rendezvous at Whaley's Mill. He expected no immediate pursuit, for he knew McNeil was at Monticello.

CHAPTER XIV
TEN LIVES FOR ONE

Harry succeeded in clearing the village in safety, and, when about half a mile away, halted and looked back. Porter's men were already leaving the place, and Harry saw they had quite a number of prisoners. Porter halted in an open meadow near the edge of the village, and the prisoners were gathered together.

"My God!" groaned Harry. "Are they going to murder them all?"

But the prisoners were not murdered. They were all paroled with the exception of four, to whom allusion has been made.

Harry watched until he saw the paroled men start back to the village, and the guerrillas riding away. He drew a long breath of relief. The fact was, McNeil held so many of Porter's men prisoners that the guerrilla chieftain dare not command such wholesale murder.

"What is to be done now?" asked Harry of himself. "I know," he cried suddenly. "If I can make Monticello before night, McNeil can get to Whaley's Mill nearly as quickly as Porter. I'll make Monticello or die in the attempt."

Thus saying, he turned his horse to the north and rode swiftly away. He had gone some distance when he suddenly drew rein. "Great guns!" he exclaimed. "I have forgotten Bruno. He will stay by that blanket until he starves."

He reined in his horse and sat a moment in deep thought. "It's no use," he sighed. "It's full five miles. I can never go back and make Monticello in time. Poor Bruno! I won't let him suffer for more than a day or two."

His mind made up, Harry rode on at as swift a pace as his horse could stand. Residents along the road gazed in wonder as Harry dashed past. Most of them took him for a guerrilla fleeing from his foes, and looked in vain for blue-coated pursuers. A number hailed him and two or three sent a ball after him on receiving no answer.

When about half way to Monticello three rough-looking men blocked the road, demanding his name and the reason of his haste.

"I'm carrying the news to the boys," he explained. "Porter captured Palmyra this morning."

"Yo' un don't say. But who air yo' un carryin' the news to?"

"To Sam Dodds. Porter wanted him to rally all the boys he could and join him at Whaley's Mill."

This was a guess by Harry. He only knew Dodds was a leader among the guerrillas in that section of the country.

"That's a lie. Sam Dodds is with Porter and – " The guerrilla never got further. Harry's revolver cracked and the fellow rolled from his horse. Bending low over his horse's neck, Harry was off like a shot.

For a moment the other two guerrillas were dazed by the unlooked-for attack, then drawing their revolvers sent ball after ball after Harry, who, as they fired, felt a sharp pain in his left arm, but he only urged his horse to greater speed.

One of the guerrillas sprang from his horse and went to his fallen companion. "Dead as a doornail," he exclaimed. "Shot through the heart. Jack, let's after that boy. I reckon one of us winged him, for I saw him winch. We 'uns can come back and see to poor Collins heah, after we catch him. I reckon that young devil was the famous boy scout of the Merrill Hoss. I've heard Porter say he'd give a thousand dollars for him dead or alive."

Without further parley, leaving their dead companion lying in the road, the two guerrillas mounted their horses and started in pursuit. Harry by this time had gained a good lead, but the guerrillas' horses were fresh, and they gained on him rapidly. As dark as it now looked for Harry, his being pursued proved to be his salvation, for he had not gone more than two miles when six guerrillas blocked the road.

"Halt and give an account of yo'self!" they cried.

Without checking his horse, Harry shouted, "Yanks! Yanks!"

The guerrillas saw the cloud of dust raised by Harry's pursuers and wheeling their horses fled with him. Harry now had company he did not relish, but not for long. Coming to a cross road which led into a wood they turned into it crying out to Harry to do the same, but to their amazement he kept right on.

"Reckon he's so skeered he didn't notice," said one.

"Hold," said another, "thar's only two comin' an' they don't look like Yanks. If they be, we 'uns can tend to them."

Drawing their weapons they waited for the two to come up, when they found they were two of their own gang. Explanations were made and there were curses loud and deep.

"We 'uns air losing time," cried one of the first two. "The feller's hoss must be badly winded. We 'uns can catch him."

The leader of the six shook his head. "No," he exclaimed, with an oath, "it's all off. Thar is a scouting party of Yanks up the road. They chased us. That's the reason we 'uns are down heah. That feller will fall in with them before we 'uns can ketch him."

So, much to their chagrin, the guerrillas gave up the chase and went to attend to their dead comrade.

About five miles from Monticello Harry overtook the scouting party, now on their way back to that city. Taking Harry for a guerrilla, they ordered him to surrender, which he did very willingly.

Harry was white with dust, blood was dripping from his left hand and his horse, white with foam, stood trembling.

The lieutenant in charge of the party rode up. "Well, young man," he began, then stopped and gazed in wonder.

"Good Heavens!" he exclaimed. "It's Harry Semans. Harry, what's up?"

"Porter is on the warpath. He has captured Palmyra," gasped Harry.

The news was astounding.

"When?" cried the lieutenant.

"This morning. But I have no time to talk. Give me a fresh horse. I must see McNeil."

"But your hand, my boy. Let me send one of the boys with the news."

"No, no!" cried Harry. "I must see McNeil. The wound is nothing. It is nothing but a scratch."

Harry took a horse from one of the troop, and accompanied by the lieutenant and three men rode post-haste for Monticello, leaving the troop to come more leisurely.

General McNeil was greatly surprised by the news. He had supposed Porter's band to be entirely dispersed.

"You say the garrison did not surrender?" asked McNeil.

"No, but Porter plundered the town and took every Union man in the place prisoner. From what I could see he paroled all, or most of them."

"God help Andrew Allsman if they captured him," exclaimed McNeil; "but if Porter dares – " The General said no more, but his jaws came together with a snap.

Harry now told the whole story and ended with: "General, they are to rendezvous at Whaley's Mill. You can catch them if you act promptly. It's not much farther to Whaley's Mill from here than it is from Palmyra; and Porter has no idea you can get there nearly as quickly as he."

McNeil lost no time. Fortunately there was a battalion of the Merrill Horse at Monticello, and he could muster five hundred men for the pursuit.

"I wish you could be with us," said the General to Harry.

"I certainly shall be," answered Harry.

"But your wound, and thirty-six hours without sleep or rest," said the General.

"My wound is nothing," said Harry, "but that reminds me it has not been dressed, and that I am nearly famished, but I will be ready as soon as you are."

"Only cut deep enough to make it bleed freely," said the surgeon, as he dressed Harry's arm. "You will be all right in a week."

"I'm all right now, except a lame arm and an empty stomach," laughed Harry, "and I will attend to the stomach now."

It was not long before McNeil, at the head of five hundred stout troopers, was on his way to Whaley's Mill, every man eager for the conflict. But as Harry rode there came to him the thought of Bruno. His first impulse was to turn back and ride for Palmyra, but he knew how dangerous it would be, and then he felt his duty was to continue with McNeil. It would not make more than a day's difference, and if he started alone, the probabilities were he would never get to Palmyra, so with a heavy heart he rode on.

All through the night they rode. Porter, never dreaming McNeil could reach him so quickly, went into camp at Whaley's Mill to await supplies and reinforcements.

The next day McNeil was on him like a thunderbolt. Never was there a surprise more complete. Many of the guerrillas cut the halters of their horses and without saddles or bridles galloped furiously away. Frequently two men were seen on one horse, digging in their heels and urging him to the utmost speed.

The relentless Merrill Horse were after them, cutting, shooting and taking prisoners those who threw down their arms and begged for mercy. For two days the pursuit was kept up, and at last in desperation Porter cried to the men who had kept with him, "Every man for himself." And every man for himself it was. The band was totally dispersed.

When Porter saw all hope was lost, he paroled three of the four prisoners he had kept; but Andrew Allsman was held, and from that day all authentic news of him ceases.¹¹

Porter did not rally his band; he collected as many as he could and fled south into Arkansas, where he held a commission as colonel in a regiment of provisional troops. Owing to this pursuit six days had elapsed before Harry could get back to Palmyra. During this period the thought of Bruno keeping his lonely watch over that blanket caused Harry many a sharp pain. More than once he thought of deserting and going to the relief of the animal. Those of the officers who knew the story laughed at Harry's fears, saying no dog would stay and watch a blanket until he starved, but Harry knew better.

Upon reaching Palmyra he rode with all haste to the fair grounds where he had left Bruno. He found the dog lying with his head and forepaws on the blanket, his eyes closed. So still he lay, so gaunt he looked, that Harry's heart gave a great bound; he feared he was dead. But the moment Harry's footsteps were heard, Bruno gave a hoarse growl and staggered to his feet, every hair on his back bristling. But no sooner did he see who it was than he gave a joyful bark and attempted to spring forward to meet him, but fell from weakness.

In a moment Harry's arms were around his neck and he was weeping like a child. The dog licked his hands and his face in an ecstasy of joy.

"Bruno, Bruno, to love me like this, after I left you to starve and die," sobbed Harry, "but I couldn't help it, if the guerrillas had seen you they would never have let you live. They would rather have your life than mine, and Bruno you are worth a dozen of me."

If ever a dog was cared for and fed tidbits, it was Bruno, and in a few days he showed no signs of his fast.

The taking of Palmyra was a humiliating affair to General McNeil. That the town in which he made his headquarters should be raided, every Union citizen in it captured, one shot down and another carried off, and in all probability murdered, was a bitter pill for him to swallow.

He had often declared that if any more murders were committed in his district he would shoot ten guerrillas for every man murdered. Had the time come for him to make that threat good?

McNeil was not naturally a cruel man; to his friends he was one of the kindest and most generous of men, but to his foes he was relentless. He believed that the guerrillas of Missouri had broken every law of civilized warfare, and were entitled to no mercy. But now that the time had come for him to make his threats good, he hesitated. He arose and paced his room. "No, no," he murmured, "I cannot do it. There must be some way out of it."

Just then his provost marshal, Colonel W. R. Strachan, entered the room. Strachan was a coarse featured man and his heavy jaw showed him to be a man of determined will. His countenance showed marks of dissipation, for he was a heavy drinker, and this served to further brutalize his nature. That he was cruel could be seen in every lineament of his face. But he was a man of marked executive ability, and when occasion demanded he wielded a facile and ready pen. His defence of McNeil in a New York paper showed him to be a man possessing ability of the highest order.

Such was the man who came into the presence of McNeil at this critical moment. He stood and regarded McNeil as if he would read his very thoughts, and then remarked, cynically, "I haven't seen anything of that proclamation of yours yet, General."

McNeil started as if stung. He hesitated and then said, "Strachan, I can't make up my mind. It seems so cold blooded."

"The Rebels say you dare not," sneered Strachan.

McNeil flushed. "I allow no man to question my courage," he answered hotly.

"Pardon me, General, it is not your physical courage they question. That is above criticism. It is your moral courage, the courage to do right, because it wrings your heart to do right. You feel for the ten men you doom to die, but, Great God! look at their crimes. Does not the blood of the Union men murdered by Porter's gang cry for vengeance? Think of that. Think of Carter, and Preston, and Pratt, and Spieres, and Carnegy, and Aylward – but why enumerate every one of these men murdered by these assassins. Now they come and, right under our very eyes, carry off Allsman, to be foully dealt with – and yet General McNeil hesitates."¹²

"Say no more, Strachan," cried McNeil, "the proclamation will be forthcoming."

A cruel smile played around the lips of Strachan as he saluted his superior and departed.

The next morning a proclamation appeared, directed to Joseph C. Porter, saying that if Andrew Allsman was not returned before the end of ten days ten of his followers held as prisoners would be taken out and shot.

The proclamation was posted on the door of the court house and soon a motley crowd gathered around to read it. Some read it with satisfaction, some with lowering brows, but the most with jeers.

"McNeil will never do it. It's only a bluff," declared a sullen-looking man.

A tall, lank, cadaverous native ejected a mouthful of tobacco juice and drawled, "Directed to Joe Porter, is it? That's a mistake; the General should have directed it to the devil. He's the only one who can return ole Allsman."

"Think so, do you?" said a soldier, who, overhearing the remark, laid a heavy hand on the fellow's shoulder. "Come along with me."

Protesting vehemently, the fellow was taken to prison. This episode ended public criticism.

There were not many in Palmyra who believed Porter could return Allsman if he wanted to; the universal belief was that he had been murdered. What would McNeil do when the man was not returned, was the question. The general belief was that the proclamation was only a bluff to try and scare Porter; so the people of Palmyra went about their business disregarding the ominous cloud hanging over them.

As the days slipped by and Allsman was not returned and no explanation made, McNeil began to be uneasy. He caused the proclamation to be made throughout all Northeast Missouri. He even sent Harry on a dangerous ride to deliver a copy to the wife of Porter, and to beg her to get a copy to her husband, if she knew where he was.

She replied she did not know where he was. The fact was, Porter had fled south, as has been noted, but McNeil did not know this.

No representations were made to McNeil that Allsman had been paroled by Porter, as was afterwards claimed by Porter and his friends, and that he was afterwards murdered by unknown parties. His proclamation was utterly ignored.