Clarksville weekly chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1873-1890, 1881-08-27
THE STAGE DHuvER's STORY

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| In '67 Jake Pool was staging th'
route from Gallatin' to Helena, ii
Montana, driving four-hors'
coach in summer, and a 'jerky'
in winter, seventy miles a day
/ through the widest region, ane
over one of the most dangerous
routes in the United States. The
country through which his trail rar
for it was little else than trai
was totally uninhabited, but fol
the three stage stations where
horses We're changed, and which
We're dug outs, or log huts, twenty
miles apart. The Indians, although
generally friendly, were liable to
become enemies at q moments
| warning; road agents and outlaws
were thicker upon the Gallatin
route than any other north OF the
! Union Pacific railroad, and the
route itself ran through gullies and
canyons, and along the verge OF
dizzy precipices, as though origi-
nally laid out by mountain sheep.
Notwithstanding all this, Jake was
a successful driver, made better
time, lost fewer mails and express
safes, and ran his coach at a smaller
expense 10 the company, than any
other man in their employ. But
when misfortune did overtake him,
it was no tight hand that the genius
of evil laid upon him, which the
following adventure proves:
One muggy morning, in early
May, as Jake hauled up in front of
the stage office, and prepared to re-
ceive mails, express and messenger,
and passengers, if any there should
be for Helena, tie Wells Fargo
agent called to him from within.
Throwing the reins over the foot
brake, Pool descended from his
perch and entered the Office.
The agent shut the door behind
him; then drawing near ne said, in
a half whisper:
ss1'here's fifteen thousand in cur
rency in the safe. to take over to-
day"
"I've carried more before now, and
carried it safely"
"But," said the agent, drawing
still nearer, !" Dicks sick, and
there's no messenger"
"Ah!" said the driver, medita-
lively then touching the revolver
which hung at his belt: "I'll be
messenger and coachman both,
then"
"But,n still continued the other,
"there's one thing more," and he
leaned forward so that his lips
touched his companions ear.
Cooper Tom and his pal, Old jim,
are on the road. A man from Cross
Trees was robbed by them last
night"
Pool whistled long and low, and
his hand fell from his pistol-butt.
cooper Tom" was the worst road
agent in Montana-a desperate,
with both courage and brains.
Don't send the rags"
sI must I" said the eXpressman,
t'The order is perempt-
ory; the money must go to-day,
or no messenger. Now,
who will take it and carry it
through ?''
Jake laughed.
"I'll take it; that's part of my
business. Throw the safe under
the seat and give me your pistol |
may want two.V And he took the
others revolver from the desk
where it lay and thrust it into his
boot top. "As to carrying it
through. that's another matter,
with those fellows to stop it. But
I'll promise you this-if / go
through, the safe shall !"
The agent grasped his hand and
shook it warmly. The door was
tIIIUwI upon, tho driver mounted |
his seat, the iron box was StOweu |
beneath his feet, the single passen-
ger Tan old woman, to be left at the |
first station) got in, the whip |
cracked, the horses plunged, the |
coach lurched heavily forward, and |
amid shower of mud, disappeared
down the steep mountain road.
Although it was May, the morn
ing was cold, and it was not until |
the sun had climbed well up the |
eastern sky that the chill thawed |
out of the air, and by that hour
Pool was more than twenty miles
upon his journey, with fresh horses
in their traces, and an empty coach |
behind him. He began to brighten
with the sun.
"After / get through the Devils
Pass said he to himself, Cooper |
Tom or any other man may whistle |
for me, for from that to DicksOn'S |
is as handsome a road as ever a
horse struck foot upon, and who
ever tries to stop me there, unless
he shoots first, will go under the
leaders feet. / intend to make that |
little seven miles in just twenty
eight minutes without brakes!"
And Ire gathered his rains with a
firmer hand, as if already whirling
at that mad pace down the noun
tain side.
"Let's see," he continued, "if
nothing goes wrong and the roads
all right, ought to make my last |
change by five o'clock and reach
the Pass before six. 1t will then be |
broad daylight, so / can rattle right |
along, and then, after the spin |
down the 'causeway,' I'll strike |
before seven, certain. |
Beyond that the road is too open |
and too much travelled into Helena
to be dangerous. By JOve - he
his heart warming as he
struck his heels against the safe be-
meath the seat, 81 don't see where
the agents can stop me unless
Good heavens what if they try it |
in the very pass itself? I had not |
thought of thatn'
The man was silent for moment |
and his face grew grave; then.
he shook his reins,
loosened his revolyers in his boot |
and belt, and with sigh, conclud-
ed his soliloquy with the remark:
"Well, if they should meet me in
the Pass, twill be about an even
thing. If they miss their first shot,
I'll run 'em down, drive 'em into
the canyon, or drop 'em with my
Il A. n