The Forrest City times., 1895-04-19
OWYHEE JOE'S STORY.
BY ROUNsEvELLE wILDMAN.

1t was the beginning of the end.
The last tie of the mighty Union Pacific
was the first tie in the march of civili-
Eation into the great west"
With the thunder of iron wheels and
the reverberent screech of the whistle,
the Indian, the buffalo, the desperate
fled, the overland coach became a MEM
ory and the cowboy changed his buck
skin for New York shoddy. Later, as
the gigantic Pacific system stretched
out its arms to the north and south and
absorbed the alkali bottoms of Wy
oming, the sage brush plains of Idaho,
the pine forests of Oregon, even the
lava beds of northern California, the
pioneNs of 40 and the miners of '63 be-
came "a curiosity, and the men who had
subdued the wilderness from the back
of an untamed mustang were styled
moss backs" by the tourist coach"
emigrants and relegated to the back
ground.
Little more than decade has passed
since the Oregon Short line pushed its
way along the great valley of the
Snake and laid Idaho tributary to its
sovereignty; yet, in so short time,
became an ''old timer" and, as looked
out on the crowd that had taken the
places of those who greeted me as
''tenderfoot," mentally repeated the
motto of the new west" keep
up with the band wagon or fall in the
rear"
Typical of the Brobdingnagian
strides of this new order of things,
thirty rotting skeletons cumber ram
shackle row of sheds on the suburbs of
Boise. sun and wind, rain and snow
find their way down and through the
neglected roof upon their bodies, and
as year after year goes by they answer
away into dust and oblivion.
Yet they deserve a better fate. On
their weather-beaten forms are the
marks of rifle bullets; within their pro
tecting sides came the best blood of
the east, to find new homes and extend
the empire of the great republic.
These thirty leather-springed, steel
ribbed overland stages were for years
the one connecting link between the
II
Idaho and ''home." Their very sight
recalls Indian fights, highway rob-
berries and daredevil flights. In them
lives the essence of the fast dying
"Wild West" Their day is past; their
past is but a tale; their present is for
gotten.
/ asked Owyhee Joe about them once.
Owyhee Joe had been famous driver.
Wild stories are told of his daring trips
up from Winnemucca or out from Boise
with a coach well loaded with gold
dust, prospectors and government
mail. Like Ben Holiday and Yuba
Bill, his achievements live in the mem
ory and on the tongues of the oldest
inhabitants and grow in luster as the
years pass.
1t was hot, sultry afternoon. l had
sent in copy" for the outside page of
the Statesman and felt free to lounge
back in my chair and listen to Joe's
stirring, if at times mendacious, ac-
count of an Indian fight he had been
in near Kuna, when unaided he had
driven off ten Bannocks and saved the
gold bricks in the boxes of Wells,
Fargo & Co.'S express. l smiled patron
izingly when he had concluded. "And
how about the time when you were re-
lieved of your bags without even an
If you please% A shade of annoy
ance and chagrin passed over his
bronzed face and he shifted uneasily in
his chair. The click-cliclx-clic of a
Job press in the adjoining room sound
ed a running commentary to our
thoughts, while from the opposite cor