m the north, and while I carried a pair of pistols in my belt
to guard against the appearance of any of Judy's ilk, the people of Lake
City never knew it until one day when the village was threatened with a
race riot.

A lot of the blacks there had been members of a negro regiment and all had
arms. My barber was of a different school of darkies, and the Lake City
blacks determined to run him out of town. He told me of the plan, and I
did not take much stock in it until one morning when I was being shaved I
heard the plotters, over a bottle of whisky in an adjoining room,
declaring what they were going to do. Soon after I left the shop I heard
a pistol shot, and turning around to see what was the matter, I saw my
barber running toward me, while the other darkies were scattering to their
homes for their guns. I walked up the street a little distance with the
barber, when some one called to me, and I saw that the lieutenant of this
old company had us covered by his gun. I ran up to him and planting my
pistol between his eyes, commanded him to drop the gun, which the barber
got in a jiffy. The pistol shot in the shop had alarmed the merchants,
each of whom kept a gun in his store, and thereafter as the blacks came to
the rallying place in the public square with their guns we disarmed them
quicker than it takes to tell it, and they were locked up to cool off.

After that I was dubbed "Capt." Dykes, by unanimous consent, and had to be
more careful than before lest the military title should attract to me the
attention of some curious investigator who would have overlooked entirely
"Mr. Dykes."

The disguised outlaw became during the remainder of his residence a
leading and respected citizen. When the election was held it was "Capt.
Dykes" who was called upon to preserve order at the polls, he, of course,
having no interest as between the rival candidates, and with pistols in
easy reach he maintained perfect order during one of the most exciting
elections Lake City had ever had.

25. ELUDING THE POLICE

Bob and I had a close call with the St. Louis police in the fall of that
year. The bank at Huntington, West Virginia, was robbed the first of
September that year, and in the chase of the robbers Thompson McDaniels,
who had fought with us in the war, was shot and fatally hurt. In his
delirium he called for "Bud," and many, among whom was Detective Ely of
Louisville, thought that he meant me, I having been k