In the spring of 1874 John W. Wicher of Chicago, a brave, cool, cunning man, scarcely thirty years of age, connected with the Pinkerton force, appeared before his chief and asked to be sent out to discover the hiding place of the terrible brigands. He was fully informed of the dangers of such a mission, but his self-reliance and pride made him anxious to make the attempt which had already cost the lives of so many courageous officials. The chief gave his consent, and Wicher set out at once for the Samuels residence. In the early part of March the detective arrived in Liberty, where he soon laid his schemes before the sheriff of Clay county, and asked for assistance when the time and circumstances were ripe for a strike. The sheriff promised all needful aid and gave Wicher all the information in his possession concerning the habits and rendezvous of the James and Younger boys.  
Changing his garb for the habit of a tramp, Wicher left Liberty on the 15th of March and arrived at Kearney on the same day, late in the afternoon. He took the road leading directly to the Samuels residence and had proceeded perhaps two miles on the lonely highway, when suddenly Jesse James walked out from behind a pile of dead brush and, with pistol presented, confronted the detective. Wicher's [Pg 70]surprise was complete, but he manifested not the least excitement, his cool self-possession never deserting him for a moment.
 
"Where are you going?" was the first remark made by Jesse James.
 
"I am looking for work," was Wicher's reply.
 
"What kind of work do you want, and where do you expect to find it?" asked Jesse, his pistol still pointing full in poor Wicher's face.
 
"I have been used to farm labor, and hope to find something to do on some farm in the vicinity," responded the detective.
 
Jesse James smiled contemptuously and then gave a sharp whistle, which brought to his side Clell Miller and Frank James, whose near presence Wicher had not thought of. The conversation then continued. Said Jesse:
 
"You don't look much like a laborer, nor is there any appearance of a tramp about you except in your clothes. Now I want you to acknowledge frankly just what your purpose is in this part of the country."
 
The detective began to realize how critical was his position, and that unless the most fortuitous circumstance should arise in his favor his chances of escape were exceedingly small. But with the same coolness he made reply:
 
"Well, gentlemen, I am nothing more than a poor man, without as much as a dollar in my pocket, and wh............