The Canton times. (Canton, Miss.) 1893-1906, 1895-04-26
OW'YHEE JOE'S STORY.
BY ROUNsEvELLE wILDMAN.


| 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 civil
zation into the great ''west."
| With the thunder of iron wheels and
the reverberent screech of the whistle,
the Indian, the buffalo, the desperate
fed, the overland coach became mem
DRY 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
pioneers Of 40 and the miners Of SO 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 a 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, l
became an ''old timer" and, as looked
out on the crowd that had taken the
places of those who greeted me as a
s'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
to the age and the elements, and fall
away into dust and oblivion.
Yet they deserve 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
hardy miners and pioneers of southern
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. .Hra
asked Owyhee Joe about them once.
Owyhee Joe had been famous driver.
Wild stories are told of his daring trips
mn 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
orv and on the tongues of the oldest
inhabitants and grow in luster as the
years pass.
1t was hot, sultry afternoon. 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, &C
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. IS express. smiled patron
izingly when he had concluded. And
how about the time when you were re-
lieyed 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-click-click OF
lob press in the adjoining room sound
ed a running commentary to our
thoughts, while from the opposite cor
ner the splash-splash-splash OF an ir-
rigating wheel seemed to be rehears-
ing its version of the incident that so
weighed on the drivers mind. The
sun beat down on the tin roof and
adobe walls of the old Office with
fierce, white intensity that awakened
the man from his rumination.
at was a hotter day nor this out
there on the mesa, when that young
chap stepped out from behind little
clump of greasewood and as'd me per
lite ernuf ter throw up my hands No
argument in the face of that thar
sbootin' iron, Mister Editor. He took
over four thousand clean dust and
,,,ad. for salt Lake on the back Of my