The Birmingham age-herald., 1909-03-21
ROBBERIES ON
 OLD STAGE LINES Many Hold-Ups Had LudicrouS
 Incidents VICTIM HAD ITCHING NOSE He Complained of It and Highwayman Accommodating Scratched 1t
 for Him-cIever Ruse
 Saves $6o,ooo.
VICTIM HAD ITCHING NOSE
From the Washington Post.

From the Washington Post
 The old Concord stage coaches that
 for years have been plying between Fair
 play and Silverheels, one of the pioneer
 routes of the Colorado mining camps,
 have just been taken off and automobiles
 substituted said a western man who was a. veteran of the Rocky mountain mining camps. Tt Is about the last of i the regular stage lines of the old days.
 The automobile never can hope to rise
 from its commonplace position as mere carrier, for the wild days of the west i have passed forever. But there was a TO- nance about the old Concord, rocking and rolling it's great egg-shaped body through
 the wilderness, plunging into new sights | and new scenes, and always holding out a chance of danger.
 Tt is in the hold-ups that these old stages figured most memorably. From the rich mining camps of the mountains they carried passengers loaded with money and express boxes heavy with gold dust or bullion. The lonely reaches of the routes offered tempting opportu- nity for highwaymen, or road agents Thirty years ago every man who left a mining camp on a coach carried a gun if he had any valuables with him, and if there was any amount of gold or silver shipped, there perched on the box next the driver an alert and hair-trigger guard, who rode the whole distance with a sawed-off shotgun crammed with buck shot lying across his knees.
 Little Shooting Done.
 There was seldom any shooting, how ever. The side that got the drop first generally had its way, although many a stage guard has been shot dead by one robber at the moment his gun sent a handful of sugs into the body of an- other. But the guards were handicapped; the holdups always selected place where nature favored them, and took the stage by surprise. A fayorite site for their op- erations was a narrow and winding cut near the top of a long grade. As the panting team climbed slowly around some jutting cliff driver and guard found them selves looking straight down the muzzles of couple of ugly looking Winchesters, while from behind powder on right or left there rose another masked man and with rife leveled on their flank ordered, Hold up your hands!
 Do? Why, there wasn't anything else to do but comply A Winchester at 10 paces is about as certain death as prussic acid. Up would go the hands of driver and guard. Passengers inside hurriedly thrust their heads from the door win dow-and withdrew them in a good deal more of hurry. Then while the guard was disarmed and the driver put at the head of his team the passengers were disembarked and gone through The coach was searched for hidden valuables fla all sacked and the mail bag ripped and it's contents thoroughly rif1ed. 'I had a friend who was held up one night coming down on the old Park City stage. AS he stood in line with hands lifted high awaiting his turn to be ex- plotted his nose began to itch Uncon- sciously he lowered his hand to scratch it. Instantly rife looked him between the eyes.
 Hands up!' cried the man behind it.
 But my nose itches and I must scratch it, expostulated my friend.
 (Which side? asked the highwayman
 " The right was the reply, and it's itching badly, too'
 Rubbed Nose With Rife
 :" I'll fix that for you, replied the gen. tie highwayman, and stepping forward he vigorously rubbed the nose with the muzzle of his cooked rife, while the other stood, hands up, vibrating between relief and fear lest a careless move might blow nose and all into swift eternity. "A veteran driver in Idaho told me how years ago, when he drove the stage over to Boise City from the Union Pacific line he had on one trip only a single passen- ger, a little tenderfoot of a New England schoolmarm, going to take charge of a school in that town. She had never be- fore been further from Boston than the Hudson river Along about dusk one ev- ening as she sat in the box by the driver and the team wound its way around the shoulder of bleak mountain a man sud denly stepped into the middle of the road and held up his hand A cooked rifle rested easily in the hollow of his arm, and its muzzle pointed straight at the drivers head. He quickly pulled up. " Throw over the Wells-Farso boxp said the man with the gun. "The driver reached down and flung the box into the road; then he started to gather up the reins.
 Hold onl the other cried impatiently Where's the mail bag? Don't you think want that?
 For reply the driver swiftly kicked it overheard.
 "'All right said the man on the ground in affable tone, you can drive on now
 For half mile they rolled along in I