News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1884-10-23
HE FOUGHT THE ROBBERS.
"REMINISCENCES OF OLD HANK MONh
TIE STAGE DRIVER.
Jonquin MTIIer,s RecoIlectiOns of n Man
who Made Himself Famous In PrOtectihA
His Tally HO Coach on Mountain DrNes
A SHOTGUN That Did Good Work.

A ShOt.Gun That Did Good Work.
Long before Horace Greeley had
made him famous. Hank Monk was
hero among the heroes OF the Paclnc
coast. He was, perhaps the first man
| to use the short double barrelled shot-
gun which Wells Fargo's messengers
made famous in their blood ~ battles
with stage-robbers. The fact Is. that
Hank Monk was such reckless drlVer
that, while everyone was proud OF the
| honor of having once crossed the Slerras
with him, no treasure messenger was
willing to make a regular thing OF II;
For it was universally conceded tnat IL
was only a question of time, when Hank
Monk and his now famous 'Ially-ho
stage, along with his six horses, would
be tumbled from the heights into one OF
the innumerable gorges that lay yaWn--
ing under his narrow span of road around
the mountain peaks. And SO the daring
driver had to sit on his box alone, save
when the member of Congress or Judge
of his circuit, in order to show valor and
win votes, took possession OF the peril
Gus post.
It was the ingenuity of Monk that
introduced the short double barrelled
shotgun. But he did not carry it un-
der his cloak with cock lifted and finger
on trigger. Nothing of that sort; his
hands were too full of the ten or dozen
reins for that. He simply had the gun
pointed down on the side Of his leg,
with the muzzle just peeping through
the sole of his heavy boot. And no one
was permitted to know of the presence
of this arm at all. 1t was known that he
carried his bowie-knife down the back
of his neck, so as to be in easy reach
when he pushed back his broad hat to
get a GOO ct his enemy; but the
! !. IN fii,Sss--k7e7 azy;
thing abeoll 80 not even after he had
| twice been attacked and had thrice beaten
off the robbers.
I am told that the first time he used
this weapon he stopped the stage and
was slowly handing down the treasure
box to the leader, when, getting his leg
in range, he emptied load of buckshct
into the robbers heart. A second shot
into the crowd of surprised robbers, and
he dashed away with all his desperate
speed down the mountain. And even
then no one knew who fired the shots.
The robbers believed it was all the work
of the passengers inside of the stage. A
repetition of the same feat drew some
suspicion on Monk and his life was now
! in great peril. Once he handed in bill
for a new hat, saying the one he had
was so full of bullet holes that it "would
not hold shucks." The amount of gold
that this man carried out of the mines,
amounted far up into the millions, and
never dollar in all his years of service
was lost. Counting the peril, the pc.
culiar opportunities he had to betray
his trust and escape suspicion by collu-
sion with the robbers, and SO on, the
name of Hank Monk, particularly at
this time, ought to rank high.
Reckless and hard driving with him
was a passion. And yet there was moth
ing reckless about it at all, and he was
| the kindest of masters to his horses.
He loved them and they loved him and
knew his every tone and touch of the
rein. His team was literally part of
| himself.
There is no doubt, however, that he
was never quite so happy as when he
could hang his stage full of passengers
over some deep precipice, as he dashed
! down the Sierras around some curve and
| stretched his six horses out under the
cracking of silk at full gallop. AID YET
was ire really reckless think not; for
I think 1 see something of an explana-
ton of it all in the swift motion of BIZ
cycle through the air. The man merely
understood the properties of the air bet
ter than others, and knew we'll, from
| long practice, that so long as he could
keep his stage in swift motion it could
not upset, even if call the wheels were
over the precipice."
Never but once did he "upset" and
that was on level ground and in his old
age, as he slowly turned about in the
| yard to take in passengers. He handed
| in his whip after that and would drive
no more. except on rare occasions. Gen.
| Albert Pike, who rode with him during
| the last year of his life, and who knew
him well, speaks of him as a man with a
welI-balanced head and great good
sense. There was one little romance in
his life, l am told, which ought TO make
a drama. A young orphan girl, who ad-
mired the old hero, became his wife and
he settled down with his worn out Tally
no, the first of the famous stages of the
Sierras, and with his worp out and ia
vorite horses gathered about him hoped
to end his days in peace. Only parti-
ton divided his horses from his own lit
tie cabin home, and they often put their
heads in and ate bread from his hand as
he sat at the table with his hostler, a
long, lank Dutchman, and his pretty lit
tie wife,
But trouble came to the happy home
all too soon. The old horo of the road
was poor, and still he had to be away
at his work. A handsome gambler, the
protested friend of the confiding man,
made all the trouble. The temptation
to drink, as sort of necessity in his peril
GUS journey through snow and storm,
then the murder of a low gambler hov-
ering around the camp, the accusation
of the woman, the assumption of the
crime by Hank Monk to save the woman
that was the story, and-ah, well, it is
hard to tell here where fact leaves of
and romance begins; for the old miners
of the Sierras are not without imagina-
tions, and are fond of ascribing great
things to this man they all admired; and
so draw the line here.