When the prisoner was on board The Three States the dog was turned loose, and after moving aimlessly around, followed the crowd to where Miller sat handcuffed and there stopped.  The crowd closed in on the pair and insisted that the brute had identified him because of that action.  When the boat reached Wickliffe, Gordon, the fisherman, was called on to say whether the prisoner was the man he ferried over the river the day of the murder.

[Illustration:  Lynching of C.J.  Miller, at Bardwell, Kentucky, July 7, 1893.]

The sheriff of Ballard County informed him, sternly that if the prisoner was not the man, he (the fisherman) would be held responsible as knowing who the guilty man was.  Gordon stated before, that the man he ferried across was a white man or a bright colored man; Miller was a dark brown skinned man, with kinky hair, “neither yellow nor black,” says the Cairo Evening Telegram of Friday, July 7.  The fisherman went up to Miller from behind, looked at him without speaking for fully five minutes, then slowly said, “Yes, that’s the man I crossed over.”  This was about six o’clock, Friday morning, and the crowd wished to hang Miller then and there.  But Mr. Ray, the father of the girls, insisted that he be taken to Bardwell, the county seat of Ballard, and twelve miles inland.  He said he thought a white man committed the crime, and that he was not satisfied that was the man.  They took him to Bardwell and at ten o’clock, this same excited, unauthorized mob undertook to determine Miller’s guilt.  One of the Clark brothers who shot at a fleeing man in the Dupoyster cornfield, said the prisoner was the same man; the other said he was not, but the testimony of the first was accepted.  A colored woman who had said she gave breakfast to a colored man clad in a blue flannel suit the morning of the murder, said positively that she had never seen Miller before.  The gold rings found in his possession had no names in them, as had been asserted, and Mr. Ray said they did not belong to his daughters.  Meantime a funeral pyre for the purpose of burning Miller to death had been erected in the center of the village.  While the crowd swayed by passion was clamoring that he be burnt, Miller stepped forward and made the following statement:  “My name is C.J.  Miller.  I am from Springfield, Ill.; my wife lives at 716 N. 2d Street.  I am here among you today, looked upon as one of the most brutal men before the people.  I stand here surrounded by men who are excited, men who are not willing to let the law take its course, and as far as the crime is concerned, I have committed no crime, and certainly no crime gross enough to deprive me of my life and liberty to walk upon the green earth.”