The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1883-12-26
ROBBING THE STAGE.

common consent i stage. WHICH, ial W
tween Bokcy's and L.ogtown. was crawl
ing up the long grade which corkScrewcd
around to the summit of Pilot Knob. 1t
was necessary to do this in order that a
good preparatory start might be had Tor
the succeeding rafting plunge down the
other cOrkscrcw 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 check, snapped a fly off the ear
of his nigh leader and said:
No, sir. | don't git no pay for
fghtin'. an don't do no tightin' for
ther company. If AIRY galoot stops this
liver stage and perlitcly-likc asks fer the
cash boz, he's IA gwinc ter git it. 'Taint
no use, no ways, to fight them ~fcllerS,
they always hcv thcr drap on ye."
But" said the drummer, were you
ever robbed on this route 2
"Wal. no. but I've seed fcllcrS a loatin>
round hccr ez l thought mought do it
some time cr other"
"And if they did stop you. you would
give them the express box and drive on,
ehH"
Yer bet. If Their express company
wants to perfect Their box, they must
send a messenger along
The stage crawled up slowly to the
top of the hill, and Black Pete settled
his foot firmly on the brakc-strap, and
with a "scat 'em boys" the sweating
horses started to investigate the myster-
les of the almost invisible road below
them on a keen gallop.
Round and round the rapidly-varvlng
road the stage and the passengers
whirhd, sometimes losing sight of the
horses around the sharp turns and again
Slowing sharply outward toward the
dangerous edge of the canon 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 just the time for the Imagination
to picture scenes of violence. robbery
and blood. Suddenly the chaparral
bushes by the roadside slightly parted,
and a long shining black object was
waved over them toward the stage. \
shadowy figure rose in the moonlight
mons the bushes and from behind a
black veil, which smothercd the voice
somewhat, came the hoarse command of
"stop. Stop
Black Pete hurriedly pushed his foot
heavily down upon the brake, reached
down into the bottom of the stage,
pulling out the express box and muttcr-
ing, "cuss yer, take it," threw the box
into the road. The restless horses i'm
mcdiately plunged away into the shadows
of the forest.
"Wa-was that a highwaymanI" gasped
the drummer.
"In course it was" answered Pete,
didn't yer see ther shootin' iron. Thar
goes a cool thousand dollars. as l knows
on. You bet Their boys III be out artcr
him tonight. I shouldn't wonder if that
wal old Bart himself. He's a cool one,
he is. He always shoots his mouth off
in some potry. Leaves it in the box
when he gets through with it. Didn't
yer notice how level he held that thar
shootin' iron right toward meI"
The lights of Logtown now glistened
below them. and a few turns OF the cork
screw brought the stage up to the hotel
porch, where it stopped with Il loud
s'whoa!" from Black Pete. Not many
minutes elapsed before the prophecy of
Pete was realized, for as the story of the
bold robbery of Wells & Fargo's box was
related n dozen or so ready miners. volun-
teered to search the woods for the road
agents. After half an hours swearing
and drinking ovcrthe mattcrthcy saddled
their horses and started for the scene of
the robbery.
Il X 4
1t was Il little, c%rampcd-up, hclter-skcl-
ter mining town among the SierraS. One
need not rise early in Scars Hole to see
the sun rise. for he will not see it if he
does. Old Sol is never visible there until
ten in the morning. The rough. plctur-
esoue cabins. looking for all the world
like dilapidated dice thrown at random
from the box, are built down deep IN a
hole between the surrounding peaks. And
yet they actually had Il telephone connec-
ting them with the outside world. The
denizens of Scars Hole were not given
to an indulgence in business commu-
nications with the great commercial
centerS, but their telephone was the
means of preventing many of the inhabl-
tants from spending the remainder of
their earthly days at the insane asylum.
Every morning when the cchoing of the
booming blasts and the thud of the pick
had ceased in the half dozen mining
claims surroundingthc camp, the wcaried.
lonely miners gathered at the little cabin
in which wa placed the telephone, and
gave vent to their pcnt-up feelings by,
: pot a free fight, but by free interchange
Of gossip with the residents of the camps
above and below them on the line of the
wire.
Such was their Unborn dctcstation of
any man who followed any pursuit which
did not require active labor with their
hands, and such was their chivalrlc de-
votion to the fair sex, that the manage
ment of their part of the telephone was
given to a young lady by the name of
Frances Goldsmith.
On the afternoon of June 90. 1880,
Miss Frank, as she was usually called, sat
in the little telephone office waiting for
the nightly crowd of manly gossipers to
come in.
The little rocking chair in which she
sat went humping to and fro noisily and
nervously upon the pine floor, and the
tiny slippered foot beat a nervous tattoo
in unison with it.
"It's too bad" she cried i~mpetuously,
"it's too bad for Charley to work down
in that old hole in the ground all the
winter and then sell out fora paltry
thousand. And he's doing it just so he
can be married this summer, too, land
a pretty little wave of blood swept over
the sweet neck and face.
"He shan't do it. Charley don't
know anything about a mine and he
might have a little bonanza and not
know it, Just hear the dear simpleton."
LoGTowN, CAL.
MY PRECIOUS FRANK:-Bonn is negotia-
ting with me for my claim, and he offers
81. 0OU cash. have not yet accepted it, but
I have about made ND my mind that l mad
better do so. ,ou know If l had that mucn
cash, I could have the face to ask you to hasten
thai long. hoped-for happy, day. For your
sake, darling, I,believe it will be best for me to
tdht Ulub OASI. IL l Nv Joo LIZ
down early next week.
Yours forever,
CHARLES MOTLEY.
sGHello, Frank" shouted a smothered
voice close to her car; ''are you there
YETI Frances jumped to her feet and
ran to the telephone.
Dear me, l left the receiver hanging
down, and they could not ring the bell"
She put it to her ear and shouted back
through the transmitter:
"Yes, I'm here; what is it,
Don't you orgetto send that thousand
up on the stage tonight to Logtown.