Bismarck weekly tribune. [volume] (Bismarck, Dakota [N.D.]) 1884-1943, 1891-09-25
DRIVEN BY A MANIAC.
FEARFUL RIDE IN A COACH DOWN A
STEEP MOUNTAIN ROAD.

| 6CAGhT - nIOc IN ~ AOAST1 COVSlN ~
STEEP MOUNTAIN ROAD.
Compels the Driver to Get Inside the
vehicle-Plunging Down a Narrow Path
Behind Frenzied Animals.
My fathers death followed close on the
heels of his failure in business, leaving me,
his son and only surviving member of his
family, without a penny. l left college,
but wholly untitled for any work.. I found
myself on the verge of starvation, so I left
Philadelphia and started west, turning up
finally in Virginia City. was pretty des-
perate by this time, and glad enough to
accept an offer made me to drive the stage
to Sacramento. 1t was not a long drive
nor an unpleasant one, though in parts
rather dangerous, or at least requiring
careful driving and steady horses.
I had made several trips very success
fully, when one morning I left Virginia
City with a single passenger. This was a
man of slight, delicate build, rather under
sized, too, dressed in heavy clothes, which
struck me at once as peculiar, for the day
was a lovely June one.
Another thing impressed me disagree
ably in my passenger-his eyes were a
bright, unnatural blue, with a something
in their furtive glance that spoke i'll for
his conscience or his wits, though I did not
think of the latter then. 1t was a very
unusual thing for the stage to carry so
| light a load, and l found myself lingering
a few minutes behind time to see if more
were not coming, for I had a agu dislike,
which must have been a presentiment,
against setting off alone with my queer
passenger.
There was nothing for it, though, but to
go, so l started, hoping still to pick up
others on the road. I did not, however,
and gradually I lost my depression, though
1t was a lonely ride without any one to
speak to, for, unlike most people who
patronized the line, the man showed no
disposition to talk to or question the
driver, so after n or two attempts to
draw him out l let my gentleman alone.
A LUNATIC WITH A REVOLVER.
After awhile, however, he began to COM
plain aloud, though to himself. at my man
agement of the horses, but I took no notice
of his growing. We had by that time
reached the mountains and entered on a
narrow strip of road running along the
brow of a canyon, at the bottom of which
eASfSlAlSo " O1A UAlCCd VI 611fCI, WulCu /
knew to be the river.
It was a sheer descent of ZOO feet, and I
usually checked the horses at this part of
the journey. l had lone this, when my
passenger stuck his head out of the win
dow and demanded if I meant to keep up
that funeral pace, but did not give me time
to answer, and thrust out his hand with a
revolver clasped in it..
"Get off that seatl" he yelled. II will
drive!'
saw he would not hesitate to shoot me,
so l climbed down with a~lacrity when he
advanced toward me, and, threatening me
still with the pistol, made me get into the
stage.
"Do you know who 1 am" he said.
swell, l am the devil, going to drive you
to hell"
This speech and his looks, which were
those of a %lunatic, and a dangerous one,
too, in his excitement, told me the truth,
and / can tell you I felt the icy sweat
break over me, but I climbed meekly into
the coach and watched the mailman mount
to my seat. I could only hope that he
would still retain wits enough to drive
slowly, but the first thing he did was to
bring the lash down upon the horses with
a viciousness that made them start into a
frenzied run, I'M then the maddest, most
terrible journey a man ever took began.
The stage spun along like a crazy top,
the horses galloping wildly, springing
every now and then to a cut from the
shouting drivers whip, while, absolutely
sick with terror, I had not strength to leap
into the road, as I made up my mind to do
time and again. I would undoubtedly
have been killed at the rate at which we
were going, and it was the bare shred of
hope, which they say never wholly leaves
US, that kept me from springing out.
Part of the time l crouched on the floor,
hiding my face in the cushions, but fasci-
mated by the terrible scene outside, I could
not refrain from looking out upon it again
and again. On one side rose a wall of rock
as bare as my hand; on the other, and
barely five feet from where l looked out,
was the canyon and certain death.
The stage swayed fearfully, and every
time the whip cut into the horses they
would swing it to the very verge of the
precipice, when I could look down the wall
and see the rivers CLEAN, when I would
throw myself against the opposite side of
the vehicle. Once the hind wheels literal
ly hung over the edge for the thousandth
part of a second, though it seemed an eter
nifty to me, but were jerked onto the road
again, just as I felt the stage drag pack
into the chasm.
l remember screaming like a frightened
child, and standing up in the stage laugh
ing horribly when I saw the wheels back in
the road. doubt if the mailman on the
box was further of his balance thar I at
that moment. He was standing up, though
how he could have retained his footing is a
marvel to me, and yelling with delight,
occasionally breaking out INTO a song,
varied by bursts of laughter.
THE COACH STOPPED.
We had covered nearly five miles when
the road widened several feet, and all at
once l saw, as we tore by, the faces of a
group of men drawn to one side to let us
pass. I shrieked to them a wild cry for
help, but as our speed was undiminished
made up my mind the noise we made had
kept them from hearing me, or that it was
impossible for them to overtake us, but
even as I despaired I heard a hoarse cry,
and looking out saw my lunatic's body
hurled from his seat into the road, and the
next minute felt the horses checked and