The cocks are crowing at dawn of August 21, 1863, and the Civil
War is just entering its last and bitterest stage, when a pale-eyed
killer leads a horde of bearded horsemen, bristling with weapons,
down upon the sleeping town of Lawrence, Kansas.

An eyewitness ¹ later describes them: "Low-crowned, broad-
brimmed hats--nearly all alike--unshaven--stoop-shouldered--all
without coats, nearly all [in] red flannel shirts, much begrimed
with camp grease and dirt."

These are Quantrill's dreaded guerrillas.

At their head rides: "A spare man making a fine figure on horse-
back . . . magnificently mounted . . . a soft black hat with a
yellow or gold cord around it for a band, cavalry boots . . . a shirt
ornamented with fine needlework."

That is William Clarke Quantrill himself. Always the dandy,

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