The river press. [volume] (Fort Benton, Mont.) 1880-current, 1884-10-15
A Montana Stage Coach.

1t is only in the far west that staging
in the old fashion way is still in vogue
for long journeys, and even in those
regions the lines of transcontinental
railroads have robbed it of much of its
old glory. There are still routes, how
ever, on which the traveller can journey
day and night, until he is weary and
sore, crossing deserts and mountains
and fording rivers. and there are still
many towns where the arrival and de-
parture of the coach are the great events
of each day When the treasure box
and the mail bags have been thrown
into the front boot, and the driver grasps
the reins and cuts a fly off the near
leaders, ear, to show his skill with the
whiplash, a thrill of mild excitement
ed from all the neighboring bar-rooms.
"All set, JIM" says the stage agent, as
he slams the door Of the coach. The
driver cracks his whip with report
like pistol shot, the horses spring to
their work, and away goes the huge
vehicle in cloud Of dust.
The only desirable seat is up with the
! driver. He is apt to be gruH and silent
| for the first hour or SO, but you can get
into his good graces by an offer of your
| pocket flask and a cigar, and then what
tales he will tell of early days on the
plains and in the mining camps, OF be-
ing "held up" by road agents, of narrow
escapes from revolver shots, of the ter
| rible work Of vigilance committees, and
of all the perils of the road, perils only a
| little less imminent than in the old
| times, for was not the Benton stage rob-
| bed last year, and the stage that ran
over the mountains to Deer Lodge before
| the railroad was finished From high
| waymen the old fellow will most likely
come down to horses, whose peculiarities
and intelligence he never tires OF dis
| cussing. You can see that his animals
| can understand every thing he says to
| which is his favorite in the team. and
| which one he regards as the black sheep.
| The favorite never gets sharp cut from
| the whip or even harsh word but on
| the unfortunate animal that he dislikes
| the driver showers both oaths and blows.
The old stage driver is fast becoming
tradition. There are but few of them
left. Lucky is the traveller who gets a
place on the box for days drive with
| one of the real old-timers. His wild
stories, his strange oaths, his weather
seasoned face and his marvellous capacity
| for whisky, will not soon be forgotten.
Northwest.
We have few of the old-time stage
drivers in Fort Benton. While they do
not exhibit all the characteristics of the
above description, they are good fel-
lows VIM Rowe was connected with
the stage business for abont eighteen
years, as driver, superintendent and
owner of stage lines. He drove in Iowa,
Illinois, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Dakota
and Montana. The perilous adventures
through which Mr.. Rowe has passed,
would fill book. He drove stage in
Montana when road agents were plenty,
| peril MANAGED him at every turn of the
road. Mr.. Rowe is very modest about
telling of his own adventures. Chas.
Rowe, brother, is another old-time stage
driver, having held the reins for more
| than twelve years. Gus Shaffer has
driven stage in Montana for about the
same length of time. There are others
| in the county, but with the characters
tic modesty of their profession but little
can be elected.