Sacramento daily record-union. [volume] (Sacramento [Calif.]) 1875-1891, 1883-12-08
ROBBING THE STAGE.

The four-horse mud wagon, called by
common consent stage, which ran be-
tween Bokey's and Logtown, was crawling
I'D the long grade which corkscrewed
around TO the summit of Pilot Knob. 1t
was necessary to do this in order that a
rood preparatory start might be had for
the succeeding rafting plunge down the
other coTkscrew road which led to Log
town.
By the side of Black Pete, the driver,
sat an Eastern importation of the genus
drummer" Pete rolled his tobacco into
his cheek, snapped a fly off the ear OF his
nigh leader and said
"No, sir, l don't git no pay fer fghtin'
an l don't do no tightin' fer Their company.
IF airy galoot stops this hyer stage and per-
itely like asks fer the cash box, he's a
gwine ter git it. Taint no use, no ways,
to fight them fellers they always hev ther
drap on ye.
"But," said the drummer, "were you
ever robbed on this route "
.Wall. no, but I've seed fellers loafn'
round heer e. thought mOught co it some
time er other"
"And if they did stop you, you would
give them the express box and drive on,
Ell ?"
Eyer bet! II Their express company
wants to perfect Their box, they must send
a messenger along"
The stage crswled up slowly to the top
of the hill, and Black Pete settled his foot
firmly or the brake-strap, and with a
scat EN- boys" the sweating horses
started TO investigate the mysteries OF the
almost invisible road below them On a keen
gallop.
Round and round the rapidly-varying
road the stage and the passengers whirled,
sometimes losing sight of the horses around
the sharp turns and again Slowing sharply
outward toward the dangerous edge of the
canyon which yawned below them.
The sun was down and the moon was
painting weird and restless shadows on
the powdered dust of the grade.
1t was iust the time for the imagination
to picture scenes of violence, robbery and
blood. Suddenly the chaparral bushes by
the roadside slightly parted, and long
shining black object was waved over them
in the moonlight among the bushes and
from behind black veil, which smothered
the voice somewhat, came the hoarse COM
mand of "S.op, stop !"
Black Pete hurriedly pushed lis foot
heavily down upon the brake, reached down
into the bottom of the stage, pulling out
the express box aud mutterng, "Cuss yer,
lake it, threw the box into the road. The
restless horses Immediately plunged away
isto the shadows of the forest.
Wa-was that highwayman p gasped
lie drummer,
I'm course it was" answered Pete :;
didn't YOU see ther shootin' iron! Thar
coes = cool thousand dollars, as l knows
On. You bet Their boys'll be out arter him
so.nigbt. l shouldn't wonder if that war
ole Bart himself. He's a cool one, he Is.
He always shoots his mouth off in some
poetry Leaves it in the box when he gets
through with it. Didn't you notice how
level he held that thar shootin' iron right
towards me %
The lights Of L0gtown now glistened be-
low them, and few turns OF the cork
screw brought the stage up to the hotel
porch. where it stopped with a loud
whoa m from Black Pete. Not many
minutes elapsed before the prophesy of
Pete was realized, for as soon as the story
of the bold robbery of Wells & Fargo's box
was related q dozen or so ready miners
volunteered to search the woods fer the
road agent. After half an hours swearing
and drinking over the matter they saddled
their horses and started for the scene Ct
the robbery.