An excellent hiding-place for a fugitive
certainly, particularly, as I suspected, if he had relatives residing
there. Far away from the swift and powerful messengers of steam and
electricity, he might safely repose in quiet seclusion until the
excitement had died away and pursuit was abandoned. Such places as these
afford a secure harbor for the stranded wrecks of humanity, and many a
fleeing criminal has passed years of his life in quiet localities, where
he was removed from the toil and bustle, and the prying eyes of the
officers of the law in the more populous cities and towns.
Two men were selected for this journey, and their preparations were soon
made. That evening they were flying over the ground in the direction of
the little hamlet, where they were hopeful of finding the man they were
seeking.
As an additional precaution, and fearing that Edwards might not remain
in McDonald for any length of time, I telegraphed to my son, Robert A.
Pinkerton, at New York city, to also repair, as soon as possible, to
that place, and if Edwards was there to arrest him at once, and await
the arrival of my operatives from Chicago.
Immediately upon the receipt of this message, Robert left New York city
by the earliest train, and without event, arrived at the station nearest
to the village of McDonald, which he learned was about twelve miles
distant.
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