Lawrence, Kansas, a thrifty town located on the Kaw river, was selected by Quantrell as the place upon which to wreak a long-pent-up vengeance. Sitting around the camp fire on the night of August 18th, 1863, the chief of the black banner held a consultation with Frank and Jesse James, the Younger boys, the Shepherd brothers, and others of his most daring followers, as to the next advisable move upon a place which would furnish the best inducements for their peculiar mode of war. There was a concert of opinion that Lawrence was the most available place. The point having been selected, Quantrell did not neglect to inform his followers of the danger such an undertaking involved; that their road would be infested with militia, the forces of which would be daily augmented when the first intimation of the purposes of the guerrillas should be made known; that it would be ceaseless fighting and countless hardships, and many would be left upon the prairies to fester in the sun. He then called his command to arms and acquainted every man with the decision in the following speech: "Fellow soldiers, a consultation just held with several of my comrades has resulted in a decision that we break camp to-morrow and take up a line of march for Lawrence, Kansas; that we attack that town and, if pressed too hard, lay it in ashes. This undertaking, let me assure you, is hazardous in the extreme. The territory through which we must pass is full of enemies, and the entire way will be beset by well armed men through whom it will be necessary for us to carve our way. I know full well that there is not a man in my command who fears a foe; that no braver force ever existed than it is my honor to lead, but you have never encountered danger so great as we will have to meet on our way to Lawrence; therefore let me say to you, without doubting in the least your heroism, if there are any in my command who would prefer not to stake their lives in such a dangerous attempt, let them step outside the ranks."

At the conclusion of Quantrell's remarks a shout went up from every man, "On to Lawrence!" Not a face blanched, but on the other hand there was but one desire, to lay waste the city on the Kaw.

On the following day the order was given to "mount," and with that dreadfully black flag streaming over their heads the command, two hundred strong, turned their faces to the west. As they crossed the Kansas line at the small town of Aubrey, in Johnson county, Quantrell compelled three men, whom he found sitting in front of a small store kept by John Beeson, to accompany him as guides. The command passed through Johnson county midway between Olathe and Spring Hill, and through the northern part of Franklin county. When they reached Cole creek, eight miles from Lawrence, the three guides were taken into a clump of thick woods and shot by Jesse and Frank James. One of the party, an elderly man, begged piteously to be spared, reminding his executioners that he had never done them any wrong, but his prayers for mercy ended in the death rattle as a bullet went crashing through his neck.

Quantrell had been agreeably mistaken concerning the resistance he expected to encounter. Not a foe had yet appeared, but he never permitted a person to pass him alive. No less than twenty-five persons whom he met in the highway, after getting into Kansas, had been shot, and yet he avoided the public roads as much as possible.

Early in the morning of August 21st Quantrell and his band came in sight of the fated town. The sun was just straggling above the undulations of the prairie and the people of the place were beginning to resume the duties of a newly-born day. With a cry which froze the blood of every one in the town who heard it, Quantrell and his two hundred followers descended upon the place with pistol, sword and firebrand.

The prime object of the guerrillas was to capture Gen. Jim Lane, who resided at Lawrence, and retaliate upon him for the burning and sacking of Osceola, Mo., which had been accomplished by men under his command. But Lane fled on the first alarm, and concealed himself in an adjacent cornfield. Foiled in their desire to capture him, the enraged guerrillas turned their vengeance loose upon the ill-fated town, killing every man who came within range of their deadly revolvers. Quantrell's orders were to kill all the men, but to spare the women and children. By accident, however,—possibly by design of some drunken privates—several women and children were shot; and this fact was made use of in subsequent reports of the affair to greatly exaggerate its barbarous details. It was certainly sufficiently inexcusable and barbarous without exaggeration. The torch was applied to the light frame buildings as the killing progressed, and the beautiful little city was soon enveloped in a sheet of flames. Stores and saloons were broken into and robbed of their contents, and the guerrilla band soon became a howling mob of drunken madmen. The dreadful harvest of death and destruction lasted nearly all day, and when the guerrillas took up their line of retreat toward the borders of Missouri, the city of Lawrence had disappeared from the face of the earth. In this affair Jesse James is said to have killed thirty men and Frank thirty-five. They seemed to take a sort of devilish pride in numbering their victims.

Quantrell and his men hastily retraced their steps, but they were terribly harassed during the entire return march by the Kansas militia and Federal troops that hurriedly concentrated and went in pursuit of them. This force has been reliably estimated at fully seven thousand, and nothing but hard marching, determined fighting, and an endurance that has never been equalled saved the guerrillas from total destruction. At Black Jack, about fifteen miles from Lawrence, a stand was made and some brisk fighting occurred. The guerrillas took to cover in a large barn which stood at the edge of an orchard. Several assaults were made to dislodge them but in vain. The horses of the guerrillas were suffering severely, however, and realizing that without horses they would be unable to get out of Kansas, the guerrillas made a desperate charge in which thirty-two of the militia were killed and a panic was the result. But the guerrillas did not care to follow up the victory, as every moment was precious. The militia were swarming and closing in upon them rapidly, and it was only by the rarest stroke of fortune that Quantrell and his men ever escaped from Kansas; this rare fortune was due entirely to the unparalleled cowardice of three hundred well armed and mounted men who had been organized into a militia force near Spring Hill, Kansas. These men exhibited remarkable bravery until the enemy appeared in sight, when they immediately retreated and never halted until they were ten miles from the place where they saw Quantrell. Had they engaged the enemy, which was one-third less in number, besides badly fatigued, they could either have beaten Quantrell or held him at bay until enough reinforcements were received to have annihilated every one of the guerrilla band.

It was a continual fight, however, and as Quantrell predicted, many of his followers were left dead and unburied on the hot prairies, where they became the prey of carrion birds. At Shawnee, in the northern part of Johnson county, the last stand was made, but the fight lasted only a few minutes, for the guerrillas, appreciating the critical position they occupied, with nearly five thousand militia gradually surrounding them, in the manner of early settlers who join in general hunts for the destruction of obnoxious wild animals, Quantrell soon ordered a charge and retreat. After breaking through the lines the guerrillas disbanded and each one then considered alone his own safety; this rendered a general pursuit impossible, and with a total loss of twenty-one men the bands reached the coverts of Jackson and Clay counties, where they were comparatively safe.