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November 13, 2005
Nevada's Online State News Journal
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Nevada History:
Tales Of The Nevada Frontier
By William Daugherty
[From the Reno Evening Gazette, 1891]
Part 4
PIOCHE PEDDLERS.
Mormon Victims of Law and Sport in the Free and Easy Times of Long Ago.
Pioche furnished the first live market for produce that the Mormons of southern Utah ever had, and in the summer of 1872 they drove a lively trade. But they found soon that the trade had many drawbacks, especially when the sheriff was instructed to collect a license from each one offering Utah produce for sale. They soon adopted cunning tactics by camping a few miles out of town and disposing of several wagon loads of produce through one of their number, who would endeavor to make one license serve for all. Then the Sheriff grew cunning and appointed a number of deputies, with instructions to scour the woods and collect a town license wherever they caught a Mormon.
THIS WORKED PRETTY WELL
As against them, but did not swell the exchequer of the town any. The collectors were cunning, and instead of using the legal receipts furnished them, they issued bogus ones and pocketed all they got. An exposure followed in due time, when of course the collectors were all let out, but the season was about over and the Mormons escaped a double tax. The exposure came about in a most unexpected manner. Pioche was filled with reckless and waggish sports. One day a Mormon wagon, the bed of which was made into a big coop and loaded with chickens, was slowly passing along Meadow Valley street, when some one opened the rear end door and the chickens began hopping out, and before the owner knew it they were running around the streets, squawking and dodging a yelling, hooting gang of sports, who were scattering them to the four winds of heaven. The owner started in hot pursuit after his
RAPIDLY VANISHING PROPERTY.
Aided by the sports in a manner that made it all the more difficult. To add to the Mormon's alarm and vexation, the sports drew their revolvers and began a lively fusillade ostensibly at the chickens, but the shots fell so uncomfortably near the Mormon that in alarm and with fear to speed his flight, he abandoned the chase after his chickens and sought the sheriff to invoke the aid of the law. The Sheriff coolly asked for his license, when the Mormon produced a bogus one, wrung from him in the woods and signed with a fictitious name. The sheriff could not recognize it and promptly arrested the Mormon for trading without a license. In the meantime the chickens, hauled all the way from St. George, had, as Jim Fiske said, "gone where the woodbine twineth"-- up the spout, and the Mormon was compelled to remain on expense and hire a lawyer in his defense. The bogus license was evidently bought in good faith, but the Mormon couldn't find the man that issued it. A sympathetic jury acquitted him and then the lawyer took his team for his services and the innocent and injured Mormon had to start for home on foot, robbed and plundered by a chain of unfortunate circumstances that left him no legal redress. But it ended the experiment of keeping a gang of license collectors scouting the woods and canyons to plunder Mormons under the guise of law. (Reno Evening Gazette, June 26, 1891)
* * *
POKER AGAINST PRAYER.
An Incident Illustrating Its Efficacy When Prayer Was Useless.
Many years ago, worn out with the activity of life in the Nevada mining camps, my doctor recommended a trip to southern California. It was long before the "boom" and Los Angeles was a sleepy, Mexican town, and its old Sonora town with its adobe houses and tile roofs, and the dark-eyed Señoras with their picturesque costumes, was charming, but thoroughly Mexican. It was before the advent of railroads and the favorite route for reaching there was by steamer from San Francisco. At that place a comrade joined me, who was searching new fields for business; but he was timid about ocean travel and only consented to the ocean route after some urging. Preparations were hurried to catch the steamer, out his fears were so great that he neglected some matters, to make his will before sailing, as he had no faith in escaping
THE PERILS OF THE DEEP.
I joked him on his timidity, while admiring his grit in deliberately facing what he sincerely believed was sure death. The voyage was uneventful to Santa Barbara, where we disembarked and awaited the next steamer to Los Angeles. The interim was spent in viewing the sights of that old mission town that was just then awakening from the sleepy lethargy of placid existence, of a century, and the transition then taking place was fascinating to any one that was a close observer. Four days were passed pleasantly and on the fifth the old steamer Orizaba, from San Francisco southbound, moored to the wharf, discharged cargo during the day, and in the evening left port in a dense fog. We were promptly on board, but found a crowded ship, and were compelled to accept any accommodations offered. A mattress on the saloon deck or at best on a locker was all that could be promised, and so we wandered over the ship like tramps, homeless, but at home everywhere.
AS THE SHIP STEAMED
Down the channel the fog thickened, the speed was slackened, and the fog whistle sounded its doleful but startling warnings with distressing regularity every minute. My friend was seriously alarmed and questioned every one upon the prospects. The night was black--one could not see across the ship's deck. A heavy swell caused the vessel to plunge as though going to the bottom, and when the whistle sounded it muffled shriek, as the vessel plunged downward, it seemed like a last good-by. My friend was so seriously alarmed that his actions were painful to witness. He clung to me like a child, and I could not compose him. Some others showed fright and that made him hopeless of ever reaching terra firma. I tried to quiet his nerves from a private flask, but his stomach was worse disturbed than his nerves, and his sick grimace at the smell of the contents punctuated his refusal with a positiveness that was unanswerable. The cigar case met the same refusal. He would not sit down,
NOR GO TO BED,
And he couldn't stand up without holding on to something, and so he clung to me like a frightened child. His distress was pitiful and yet I hadn't the courage to cuss him. I was at my wit's end, when stumbling with him into the upper saloon a reckless young drummer challenged any one for a game of draw poker. I accepted promptly, in hopes of diverting my friend from contemplating a watery grave, and soon I was raking in the drummer's coin, for he played recklessly and out of luck. The stack in front of me grew to respectable proportions. My friend became absorbed in the game and forgot the fog whistle. Then luck turned and slowly my accumulations drifted across the table. The drummer got even and proposed larger stakes, to which I demurred and the game closed. The fog had raised a little, the whistle had ceased its doleful warnings; the machinery was working rapidly and the vessel was increasing its speed.
My friend had forgotten his fright and was composed for a good night's rest by the excitement of the poker game, and I was forced to the conclusion that in this instance, at least, poker was more efficacious than prayer. (Reno Evening Gazette, June 27, 1891)
* * *
AFTER-MATH.
Echoes From Past Booms of Far Away but Glorious Fourths.
The Glorious Fourth has come and gone again, and as one reflects over the fact that elderly people have had the opportunity of celebrating every one during half the lifetime of the nation, it seems yet as young as a new world, and with more promise than any of the old. Among the new of the old States, Nevada seems young, and yet many of the pioneers have celebrated for a quarter of a century or more within her borders, and still it will puzzle most of the roving, restless and adventurous spirits to recall where they were during each of the celebrations since making this their home. Most of us took no note of time, and simply entered into the spirit of the day with a feeling that was usually gauged by our environments, or checked by the
PAUCITY OF OUR PURSE
And yet nearly everybody enthuses on the Fourth of July the same as they do when an election comes around, and nearly every one derives satisfaction at sight of the starry emblem that represents his country, a nation that is admired all over the world, and possessing strength sufficient to command respect from those that envy it. In the lifetime this writer has spent in the sagebrush, it is interesting to recall these celebrations. The first was in the last and fiercest year of the war, when news came slowly on the overland stage and all we had to cheer us was the grim message from Grant. The little mining camp had representatives from all sections, and while the under current of feeling was intense, a spirit of mutual forbearance seemed to possess all alike, and the few flags that floated from saloon staffs told us the country was not yet dismembered. The only demonstrations were the gatherings in congenial groups, where some indulged in songs led by that lover of melody, genial Dan Morgan. We were
DISCUSSING STATEHOOD
Then and ways for inducing capital from the east to invest in our mines, mill sites and wood ranches and the natural meadow lands of the Reese River valley. Then in 1865, a year later, we celebrated in Austin. The mines were yielding, eastern capital was building mills and money was easy for all who worked. In 1866 we observed the day in rock-ribbed Ophir canyon, where the operations of the Twin River S.M. Co. furnished occupation and a living to some 500 laborers, miners and millmen. We had no orator nor poet, but flags floated; a general holiday was indulged in, and the canyon echoed with song led by that old stalwart Billy Smith, now the Nasby of Eureka, and his brothers, in melodious voice that rings in memory yet. The celebration was a success, but we all went hungry the next day, for all the cooks got drunk and rations were short until they sobered up. In 1867 we all celebrated in Ophir again much in the same style, winding up with a stag dance, for there wasn't but three white women in camp. In 1868 everybody
CELEBRATED IN AUSTIN,
And, to accommodate all, instead of one procession we had two in the fore-noon, another in the afternoon. The first were intensely partisan, one being led by Major Bradley and the other by Major Sherman, and each was elaborate and imposing, made so by all the means at command and regardless of expense. Party feeling was intense, angry looks were on every face, and when the two processions countermarched past each other the moment was fraught with critical interest. Each held its literary exercises separate and apart from the other but sober counsels prevailed and no conflict occurred. A happy inspiration took possession of the minds of representative men, who, to placate the bitter feeling of the factions, suggested a burlesque parade for the after- noon. The proposition took like wild-fire; everybody was in for it; the news spread rapidly, and by 4 o'clock in the afternoon the procession formed and all those in the rival processions of the forenoon joined in making the afternoon parade the opportunity for fraternizing in a devil-may-care spirit of brotherly love that was
INFECTIOUS AND CONTAGIOUS.
The immense procession, for it was immense, burlesqued everything contained in the two former, and each new and comical feature as it passed was cheered with wildest mirth by the spectators that swarmed on the sidewalks. And when the round-up was made in front of the National Bank and the reader, poet, orator and president, all in mask, were, however, recognized by their voices and manners, and the crowd discovered that they included such prominent men as Judge W.H. Beatty, Colonel Harry I. Thornton, John Dennis, Judge John H. Boalt, Mayor J.S. Slanson, Hon. Tom Wren and others, then and since then known to fame, the jollity spread and swept away every vestige of the ill feeling that marked the commencement of the day.
A CIRCUS WAS IN TOWN,
A little one-horse affair that had wandered across on the Sand Springs road from Virginia City, and entertained the people of Austin every night for a week and with an afternoon matinee, until everybody was cloyed with the spangles and gauzy skirts, the clown and the sawdust. But that, the last night of the season, saw the tent again crowded from the simple announcement made by John Dennis from the platform of the burlesque Fourth of July speakers, which was given at the close of the exercises, and which was in effect, that there would be, among the other attractions of the mammoth acrobatic and arenic aggregation, a tight rope performance by the brothers--Majors Bradley and Sherman. And so ended one of the most remarkable celebrations that ever occurred in Nevada, and never afterward has partisan feeling interfered with a proper observance of this anniversary--the dearest of all to the American people. (Reno Evening Gazette, July 7, 1891)
* * *
HE GOT LEFT.
Rough on the Victim, But Fun For the Boys.
It sounds very funny to the fellow that didn't, but to the one that was left, it was a grim joke. The writer had an experience of this kind at the Reno depot in 1873. He met a friend by telegraphic appointment, when the train on which he was going east reached Reno. He ran into Chamberlain's bar room to talk about a bond on a rich copper mine in Humboldt county. Suddenly a train was seen slipping by the door, and the admonition of "Run, that's your train." started him like a shot out of a gun; and why shouldn't it? There in the berth of the old Central Pacific sleeping coach, under the pillow, was his wallet with $400 in gold notes, with business instructions on a long commercial tour, and all his extra clothing. Run? Didn't he? He jumped off the platform to the track, then about two feet below, and under the glare of the coal oil lamps then in use, exposed himself to the midnight crowd of tin horn sports watching for victims, and running after the train, was greeted by the pleasant yell from the audience on the platform, "Go it legs, you'll catch it." This was exasperating? Oh, no! It lent speed to flying legs. The red lights on the rapidly moving train glimmered like a constellation of flying stars. The train seemed to be slowing up. It really looked as if the victim was gaining, when suddenly he went flying on his hands and knees forward over an ash heap.
He sprang to his feet and in three leaps fell over another, near the water tank, where the engines dumped their ash pans going each way. Bleeding and smarting with pain, he jumped to his feet once more and in a few leaps caught the train and was greeted by the brakeman, who groutily asked him why he got left. That was a common occurrence those days. People were getting left every day and the loafers around Nels Hammond's stable used to guy the victims most unmercifully. Barney Horn used to make his loafing place there and bet on how many victims each train would furnish.
Finally the boys put up a job on Barney. They hired a tramp to be on hand and dart out from Al White's corner with an old satchel left conveniently in the gutter for him to pick up and run with whenever a train would start. He played his part so well that when he missed his train, as instructed, he came back to Hammond's stable and faced the group that was laughing at his mishap. He had heard Barney Horn sing out "Go it, you d----d fool; you'll catch it," and rushing up to Barney, he said: "Its pretty rough to get left, and I can lick any man that calls me bad names." Barney puffed his pipe and said he didn't say nothin', while the crowd yelled, and when Barney found he had been sold he asked all hands to take something. (Reno Evening Gazette, July 8, 1891)
* * *
ZINC BARNES.
A Typical Character of Early Days in Nevada, Well Known to the Old Pioneers.
Sometime in the early 60's, Zinc Barnes was engaged in the livery business in Gold Hill, and had Dick Dey in his employ as book-keeper. After an unsuccessful season, during which the business went from bad to worse, Zinc failed and petitioned the court to be declared an insolvent. In due time the case came on for a hearing, and that morning Zinc met Dick and said that he desired him to go into court and attend to the matter. Dick replied in much surprise that there wasn't anything to be done that he knew of, and asked, "What do you want me to do?"
ZINC'S KNOWLEDGE
Of books and accounts was very limited, but in a general way he thought the book-keeper would be wanted, and so he said, "Well, go up to court and make a showing of some kind for me."
"A showing," said Dick, "why, there is no showing that can be made. It is a clear case of insolvency, and the books and accounts are all on file in the court."
"Well," said Zinc, "Go up anyhow, and if you can't do nothin' else, charge somethin' up to sundries."
Dick picked his teeth and went on his way, and the case came to a conclusion without any "showin'." Some years afterwards Zinc made a raise in the sale of water rights at Pioche, and again engaged in the livery business. At this time he called in and engaged as his book-keeper, J. F. Hallock.
ZINC WAS LIBERAL,
And the matter of salary was easily agreed on, and then Hallock asked how he wanted the books kept, in double or single entry.
"Oh," said Zinc, "single entry will do for me. I don't want to charge a man but once. It makes a better showin' in the assets if a man fails."
"Very well," said Hallock, "I merely wanted to know, so as to be guided in closing up the books, when you may wish it done."
"Oh, never mind about closing them," said Zinc, "the sheriff will attend to that."
In due time the Sheriff did so, for Zinc was too liberal and reckless, and, of course, failed. Then he fitted out a prospecting party from the remnant that was exempt from execution. and as liberal as ever took a couple of broken down companions--"old stiffs" he called them--and started off for Arizona. They spent the winter in prospecting, and, when finally all their supplies were gone, started across the deserts
FOR LOS ANGELES,
And ultimately San Francisco, or any other sea port and without any definite object in view. It was before the Southern Pacific was built and the trip to Los Angeles was fatiguing and not without many dangers. One by one their animals gave out and died, and when they were all on foot and dead broke. Zinc had left, as a relic of better days, a pair of sleeve buttons made from $10 gold pieces, which, as soon as they arrived, he took to a jeweler and sold and divided the proceeds with his two comrades. He then sent a dispatch to a friend in San Francisco, saving, "Just arrived from Arizona. Took breakfast on a sleeve button. Send me some money for steamer fare. Answer." His comrades had left him to "see the town" and Zinc heard nothing of them until noon, when he learned they were in jail for being
DRUNK AND DISORDERLY.
Without any delay he hurried around and put up all the money he had left and bailed them out. Getting no reply from his telegram he concluded his friend was out of San Francisco, and something must be done and, as he expressed it, p.d.q., and at once he drew on his fund of ingenuity.
He had already discovered that the people there were very boastful of their climate and also very sensitive about any adverse opinions. He was begrimed with dust and tanned like a tramp and fully as ragged. His boots were run over at the heels and out at the toes, and his general appearance was such, that at the present day they would arrest any one in such a condition for a "vag;" but then it was different; Los Angeles was
ADVERTISING CLIMATE
And offering bonds for railroads; anything, in fact, to get emigration headed that way. Zinc took in the situation, and lounging up to the crowd of dons and land-owners in front of the bar at the Pico House, be began an energetic soliloquy in tones loud enough to be heard by all, and which is reported as follows. Said he: "It's a fine climate here in Southern California. A man can live on the climate. I haven't had anything else for three weeks, and I'm getting fat. I went out to Santa Monica to day, and there I found a lot of big, lusty Irishmen surf bathing, but shivering and blue with the cold. A one-lunged tourist on the wharf asked one how long he had lived there, and he answered: 'Sure, sir, I was born here.' And when nobody was watching they all come out of the surf and stood on the sunny side of the bathhouse to get warm.
SENATOR JOHN P. JONES
Of Nevada hires 'em at $4 a day to bathe there and advertise the climate. Oh, he'll get up a boom, and don't you forget it. He knows all the tricks on the stock market, he does. All you want is water down here, and that's all they need in h--l."
By this time all the tourists in the hotel were out listening to Zinc, and to choke him off and stop the disastrous effect of his diatribe on the climate a number of leading citizens, among them being Temple, Hellman, Mesmer and Downey, made up a purse and hustled Zinc off on the afternoon train to San Pedro to catch the steamer for San Francisco. And they always regarded it a good investment to get rid of Zinc Barnes at any price. (Reno Evening Gazette, July 14, 1891)
* * *
PIONEER PREACHERS.
Early on the Scene to Spread the Truth and Minister Consolation
That Nevada has produced men of note in every walk in life, goes without contradiction, for their names are inscribed on the walls of fame and finance; in civil and political life; in the world of letters and the annals of crime; on charity's scroll in the first and largest and most notable contributions to that noblest charity of all the Sanitary Fund, that administered alike to the victims of war, whether in blue or gray; and last and greatest of all, the meek followers of Christ, in all the sects and creeds known to Christendom. Her clergy has numbered amongst them, those who have achieved lasting fame while quietly plodding the path of righteousness in perilous pioneer days, and who have received their reward with becoming meekness, that enables them to wear well the honors so worthily won. At the head of the list we may be pardoned in naming among the earliest of the pioneers, Bishop Whitaker; Father Manogue; the eloquent preacher politician, Hammond; Reno's favorite, Jenvey; and we may be excused for loss of memory in not naming others whose devotion entitles them to be inscribed on the roll of Christian martyrs. Their minds were developed here, where natural surroundings, desert perils and privations, bring man nearer to. God; and where freedom of opinion and man's natural independence expand the mind to the utmost limits of admiration for the handiwork of God and nature. In consequence, liberal views have developed in the minds of some, and this may have been at variance with orthodox teachings; nevertheless, such divines have made friends with the masses, and if any ever betrayed evidence of mortal weakness, a generous public was ever ready to clasp his hand in warmer grips of friendship and palliate any shortcoming on the broad grounds that
"MAN'S A MAN FOR A' THAT."
Among the popular preachers in the State, and who especially endeared himself to the pioneers of the eastern and central part of it, was one that many yet remember as genial Parson Kelly. He was skilled in his calling, scholarly and eloquent, and added a vein of life and jollity to every social gathering. True, he was sometimes restored to clerical dignity by the firm but gentle admonition of his devout and devoted wife, whose simple reproof, couched in the one word, "Samuel P," would return his countenance to the gravity demanded of his calling. But everybody liked him; the rich cultivated him; the sick took cheer from his presence; the giddy gave cheerfully to the contribution box; the best liked him none the less, and the sports would have him bury their dead. Not a driver on the central stage lines but preferred him to any one else on the box outside, and that genial wag, Tom Reilley, who drove in to the last "home station" many years ago, used his strongest words of admiration when he said "Kelly was a lizard."
BUT KELLY'S POPULARITY
Led him into politics, and to give him a position that would prove congenial to his tastes, he was elected State Superintendent of Public Schools and moved to the capital. Then the greatest misfortune that falls to man, befell him, and the death of his good wife checked his ambitions. At the close of his term, he drifted, perhaps unwisely into journalism, and became a hard worked reporter on the San Francisco papers, at a time when stirring political changes called forth steady toil that soon became drudgery. He banished grief in the exactions of the new life and worked with a will to serve his new masters. Suddenly he dropped the pencil and with his only child departed for the east to end his life in the placid pursuit of his early calling in the quiet eddy of his old home. What led to his sudden resolve may be inferred by his old Nevada friends in the following: He was met by an old friend in San Francisco just after the election for the adoption of the new constitution. Reporters had been hard worked in gathering returns, and Kelly told his friend of the fatigue.
"Well," said the friend, "you were of course paid extra for the extra work?"
"No, not a bit of it," said the former parson.
"What," said his friend, "after being up so many nights, did not the rich proprietor of the leading daily pay you handsomely?"
Kelley's look of disgust over the treatment would require an artist to portray on canvas, but there was no mistaking the tone with which he replied: "Naw. They didn't even say beer." (Reno Evening Gazette, July 16, 1891)
* * *
OVERLAND DRIVES.
Characteristics and Peculiarities of Celebrated Whips, on the Pioneer Stages.
The old pioneer stage drivers were nearly all possessed of some marked characteristic that distinguished each from the other, so that they could almost be recognized in the dark. Some would rarely ever speak; others would talk a little "for sociable," or for the same reason, listen attentively to a stale joke that was dinned in their ears every day by smart Alecks traveling at other people's expense; while some were full of Joe Miller jokes, which they would repeat daily "just to see some sucker bite." All had pride in their calling, petted their "stock" and would beat the opposition, even though they had to "pound 'em on the back" to make time. Among the crack whips,
BILLY BLACKMORE
Was noted for his devotion to duty; his foot was always on the brake, with stock always in hand and whip ready to touch a leader. Billy was so attentive while on duty that his nightmares were a repetition of his run, and when asleep his dreams were always of the dangerous places on the down grades. At such times he would pull himself up by the blankets and press the foot board off the bed, muttering "Whoa, there! whoa!" believing all the time he was bearing down on the brake.
He was a terror to the landlords, who finally adopted the plan of building bedsteads that he couldn't kick down.
BALDY GREEN
Was noted for his ill luck in being selected by the road agents, or highwaymen, for robbery. In Six-mile canyon he was stopped so often that the stage company concluded he was either in with the gang, or else a hoodoo, and they transferred him to the Austin drive. That broke his heart and he left the road and went to draying in Pioche.
TOM REILLEY
Was a wag and always "joshing." He had a ready joke for every one, even when wakened out of his sleep. On one occasion when his drive ended on the new road from Eureka to Palisade, at midnight, at a station consisting only of a corral, when the stock was cared for, Reilley laid down and was soon sleeping. Waking at the hostler's movements, Reilley yawned and said "Tim, for God's sake put up the bars' or we'll both take cold." His favorite expression of approval or condemnation was "He's a lizard," and his meaning of its application was the manner in which he said it and squinted his eyes. His eyes were weak and always half closed. Coming out of the hotel at Palisade one noon time from dinner, he stopped to look at two Italians lying asleep on the front stoop. One of them, made restless by the flies, raised his foot and gave a little kick, at which Reilley said to his comrade, "It's alive Billy, I saw it move."
VIC KOENSIN
Was noted for his earnest expressions uttered in a deep guttural of broken German. He possessed great powers of endurance, and during the muddy roads of the spring break-up in the Reese river valley, he was frequently out on the box twenty hours in his drive from East Gate to Austin. It was a daily drive, and Bay Green said he walked around the rest of the day for exercise.
DAVE RED
Was noted for his thin, cadaverous look, and ghastly smile when the bottle was passed, at which he would say "Here's a go," and after taking a swig, pull up on the lines and start the team on a spin to the next raise. We rode with him once to Idaho, and in crossing the Owyhee went over the ferry ahead of him, leaving a bottle concealed in our baggage. An hour afterwards the stage got across and Dave--well he had found the bottle. We dropped it under the wheel to save his neck, and when we reached the end of his drive at Jordan creek, he was sober as a deacon, and merely said "Take care of yourself Billy till I see you again." Poor Dave, he was found dead and boiled to pieces, a year or so afterward in a hot spring at Keosin's station, midway between Austin and Battle Mountain.
JIM MILLER
Was known by his striking dress. In stature over six feet tall, his clothing gave him a look as grotesque as a clown. But his clothes always fit him and were made to order under his special directions. In winter he wore a long blanket overcoat and pants, with the wide stripes arranged for cuffs and collars and high water marks. The buttons were big silver dollars, and across his bright red vest was a silver watch chain with links like a trace chain, which went clear around his neck and weighed four pounds. It was further weighted down with silver horses. The watch was a monster one and had cases so thick that he could run his coach over them without endangering the works. Of course he wore a white beaver hat of the finest make--all the drivers did that in those days--and as a further mark of oddity, he wore very high-heeled boots with soles an inch and a half thick. When he would arrive at Austin with his fast freight wagon from Virginia City he attracted as much attention as the camel train that was then used in freighting. And he enjoyed the notoriety better than Barnum ever did "The biggest show on earth."
UNCLE JOHN GIBBONS
Was the hero of the Sazerac Lying Club, and to him is attributed the proposition to graft grapevines onto the sagebrush, and thus turn Nevada into a vast vineyard.
REESE HAWLEY
Was noted for his daring bravery as a Pony Express rider. After it was succeeded by the Overland Stage he pulled the reins over a team in and out of Austin, until he secured a moderate nest egg, and then resigned and retired to an Iowa farm, and was noted as one among the few of the old boys that saved a competence for his old age.
* * *
RUSHING TO WHITE PINE.
Overloaded Stages and Overworked Agents, Clerks and Porters, Worried by Weary Travelers.
During the fall and winter of 1868 occurred the great rush of travel to the White Pine silver mines. As the overland stage was then running through Austin, the principal travel from the west passed through that point. It was too great for one daily line to accommodate and one or two oppositions to the overland were started. Even then passage was engaged for two weeks in advance and seats in the stages sold for $80, and $100, premium. Every livery outfit in town was pressed into service to carry passengers, making the long drive of 125 miles as best they could, without change of horses and on very scant feed.
WELLS-FARGO'S EXPRESS
Accumulated in the Austin office, in quantities of many tons, until with the baggage of delayed travelers, it was difficult to transact business in the quarters occupied. The express matter, billed at 40 cents a pound freight from San Francisco, was delayed sometimes for weeks and finally sent forward by slow freight teams. From the west it kept rolling in by the overland fast freight wagons, but such facilities ceased at Austin, and hence the blockade continued until the Central Pacific advanced its line to Elko. For a period of over three months this immense rush of travel and freight continued, and the employes of Wells, Fargo & Co. were taxed to nature's limit to endure the labor thrust upon them. Those in the office were disturbed at
ALL HOURS OF THE NIGHT
By the arrival and departure of stages and fast freights, and, unable to tell when they would be called on, they took their sleep as they could, usually removing only boots and coats and reclining on cots to be ready to spring up whenever the watch dog announced an arrival. This became very fatiguing to the office force and extra help was asked for from the San Francisco office, but the reply was that it could not last long, that their own force was equally as hard worked, and that all would have to endure it until the trade was determined to be permanent. Hence the poor overworked clerks and porters, encouraged by the agent--G.H.W. Crockett, a veteran in the service, and as gritty a worker as Wells-Fargo ever had--taxed their endurance to the utmost limits to perform their tasks. As the weeks rolled on it became very trying, but
THE INTENSE EXCITEMENT
Attendant upon the travel and handling of baggage and silver bullion, and the fortunes being made by lucky prospectors was a constant stimulus to exertion, and perhaps enabled them to endure the physical strain consequent upon overwork and loss of sleep. The stages returning from White Pine usually came loaded with passengers and bullion and would arrive at 3 or 4 o'clock in the morning and catch the office employes just dozing to sleep from other arrivals occurring every two hours in the night. A big fire was always burning in the office stove outside the counter and the passengers just arrived, unable to get beds in the hotels and lodging houses, for they were all crowded, would huddle around that stove and with their blankets and wraps, camp there until breakfast time.
THIS ANNOYED THE CLERKS
And porters, who could not leave the express unguarded, and thus deprived them of any more sleep for the night. The night porter rebelled, saying he could not stand it. It was an impossibility during such times to get another one. Everyone that was footloose was making his way to White Pine. It was White Pine or bust, and work by the wayside be d--d. In the midst of it all the small-pox broke out in White Pine, and as soon as the news reached Austin the head clerk saw a way out of the vexatious loss of morning sleep. The stage from White Pine arrived with a big load of passengers fleeing from the scare. It was 3:30 o'clock a.m., with the thermometer 24 degrees below zero; the horses were white with frost; the driver was so benumbed he could render but little aid to the porter in unloading; the passengers with their blankets
TROOPED INTO THE OFFICE,
Huddled around the stove, pulled off their gloves and furs and boots, and were toasting their toes in royal content, when the porter got the last mail bag into the office and said: "Gentlemen, we have to close up now and you will have to go to the hotels." A passenger who knew the fallacy of hunting lodgings with the condition of things then existing, replied in a grouty manner: "This is a good enough hotel for me until daylight, and d---d if I'll move." The others all looked acquiescent and merely moved into more comfortable positions preparatory to taking a snooze. The porter gave the clerk--who was distributing the letters--a puzzled and forlorn look, while he rattled the key in the door uneasily. By this time the hot fire began to tell on the frozen wraps--they were thawing out; the
STEAM ARISING WAS FRAGRANT
With any but a pleasant odor. A misty cloud was rising to the ceiling, when the clerk, as though just reminded of something, said to the porter: "Frank, the smell you told me of to-day must come from those small-pox blankets in that pile of baggage in the corner. You must have them moved out to-day. Don't forget it." Lightning couldn't have moved that crowd any quicker. They grabbed their boots and blankets, rushed like sheep to the door, shoved the porter to one side and fell over each other to get out, while the only audible remark heard was, "Christ, how it smells." The porter had only strength enough left to lock the door, and then he fell to the floor and rolled with laughter. There was no small-pox about the office, but the imagination was easily worked on by the toe-jam in the travelers' socks. (Reno Evening Gazette, August 8, 1891)
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PLACING A MINE.
One of the Methods Pursued in the Early History of Silver Mining in Nevada.
While employed in the office of the County Recorder in Austin in 1865, it fell to my duty to copy a prospectus of a proposed mining company that was to be "placed" on the eastern market, and as it was remarkable in its way and illustrates the methods pursued in early days, I have endeavored to reproduce it. As near as I can recall the words now,
THE PROSPECTUS
Stated that, "in offering this remarkable silver mine to the public as a rare opportunity for legitimate investment, the high standing and well known character of the present owner is a guarantee of good faith; and coupled with his rare knowledge of, and skill in, silver mining, is an assurance of fair and honest dealing to any who may desire to invest. It is with no desire to mislead the public, that the owner is frank enough to admit that were it not for the vast amount of capital which he has now tied up in other mines, which are now in process of development, and therefore at present unproductive, he would not present this very promising mine to the public for investment. The circumstances are such that this magnificent opportunity will probably not remain open longer than thirty days, and those who are contemplating an investment of this character
SHOULD NOT HESITATE,
As the guarantees accompanying this offer are not only protection against any possible loss, but also warrant a greater profit than can be obtained in any other similar investment."
Without attempting to recall the legal verbiage of the prospectus, it will be sufficient to explain briefly that the guarantee against loss, consisted in the promise that as soon as the stock was fully subscribed, and the company formed, the present owner would convey all his interests to the trustees to be selected by a majority of the stock holders. That seemed to be considered as good a guarantee as could be given by the Bank of England. A description of the mine then followed, commencing with its discovery on what was set forth to be thorough scientific principles. The discoverer, Senor Alvarez, it is said, had followed silver mining ever since boyhood in the
MINES OF OLD MEXICO,
Where he had made vast fortunes, but lost his great wealth in the frequent revolutions of that unhappy country. He then removed to California and shortly afterwards, in 1859, hearing of the discoveries at Gold Hill, Nevada, went there and while others were looking for gold, he, with his intimate knowledge of silver mining, located the celebrated Spanish mine, from which he had amassed great wealth. When, three years later, new discoveries were reported in a mighty range of mountains, in the Reese river section, he immediately organized a party of prospectors and leading them himself, proceeded to the new region, and there selecting the highest peak in the great Toiyabe range of mountains, which experience taught him was the home of the mother lode, he began a systematic Sand scientific search for silver. He was rewarded in finding, after laborious search in tracing the float up the sides of a precipitous canyon.
ARGENTIFEROUS CROPPINGS
Of great richness, and by a system of cross-cuts and excavations he had discovered the great mother lode. The evidence of this fact was the character of the ore, which, instead of consisting of light chlorides that easily washed away and were lost in the amalgamation, was mingled in solid cubes of argentiferous galena, which required only to be melted down to yield virgin silver. The superior character of this class of mines was the rapidly increasing richness that followed as depth was obtained, and in the slight explorations already made on this, the St. Helena, and the increased value of the ore, it was reasonably fair to presume that at a depth of 500 feet from the surface the great vein would become a
SOLID BODY OF SILVER.
My heart almost stood still when I penned the last sentence, for I had been the deputy mining recorder in Washington District, where the St. Helena mine was situated, and in the performance of my duty I had duly measured the claim, fixed the boundary monuments, and actually recorded in Book "A" of the records this wonderful mine. I wanted to throw down my pen and start off afoot, in the shades of the evening then approaching, and go there and locate a claim anywhere in sight of it. But it was 40 miles away, and, as I hesitated, I recalled the fact that Alvarez had about 50 Mexicans on the ground at work for him, and they, knowing a good thing in silver mines, must have located the whole country around about, "with all the dips, spurs, angles and variations," which last sentence in every mining location notice left nothing
OUT IN THE COLD.
I therefore finished the document in nervous haste, thinking what a fool I was not to secure an interest when I might have done so. In due time the agent started east to place this valuable property on the market. From some cause he got stranded at Salt Lake, and during the vexatious delays that followed, Alvarez became involved, the property was levied upon, the camp broken up, the Mexicans scattered to the four winds, and now, after twenty-seven years, the St. Helena mine remains nearly as it was then, and the funny part is that no one has ever yet disproved the assertion set forth in the prospectus, that at a depth of 500 feet the ledge would be found a solid mass of silver. (Reno Evening Gazette, August 13, 1891)
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HIS BEST GIRL.
How a Noted Nevada Mining Man Whiled the Time Away in a Snow Blockade.
It was during a snow blockade on the Union Pacific some years ago, that, a once well known Nevadan, was caught by it, returning from New York to San Francisco and detained for some days at a station in Wyoming. He was one of the early residents of Nevada, a comrade of Mark Twain's, and noted for his good nature and waggish disposition. He had married some years before the event herein related, and his wife was a most estimable lady to whom he was devotedly attached. Two children blessed their union, and if ever a parent was proud of his offspring, that man was our hero, Bob H----. He had one of the cherubs photographed
NAKED IN A SEA SHELL,
And from it, had a large oil painting made, that ornamented his parlor and which he always drew his visitors' attention to with more pride than any curio in his cabinet of rare collections. But, with all his love for home, and its gods and idols, he was always and everywhere gallant and attentive towards the gentler sex, and had not his wife possessed an amiable disposition, Bob's home would not have been so attractive for him. When he was caught in the blockade referred to, the passengers were not left in a bad plight by any means, for they had a dining car well provisioned and an ample supply of coal, and during the week they were imprisoned they made merry and took much enjoyment out of the situation. A mail was dispatched daily over the obstructing drifts by a carrier on snow shoes, and so all who wished could communicate with their friends. Bob was first to avail himself of such opportunity and made much ado over writing a letter daily to .
"HIS BEST GIRL"
And as none of the passengers knew that he was married, they concluded he was a most devoted lover. His wife received the letters and was cheered into sweet content by their tone, for in them Bob bemoaned the fate that kept him from his family, and declared that the only source of content with his surroundings was the companionship of a sweet little girl named May, who of all the passengers on the train reminded him most of his darlings at home. Sweet little May was a perfect treasure. She sat and talked with him by the evening lamps, of his pretty home in California; . she ate at the same table with him, played snowball and wooled his ears, and when chance offered a good opportunity, poured a handful of snow down his back. But, Bob added, he couldn't take any offense at anything she did, for she was just
TOO SWEET FOR ANYTHING.
Daily the letters reached his wife, and she concluded the little child must be a treasure, and in her amiable way she felt pleased to know that Bob had the companionship to while the dreary hours away. At last, a telegram to her from Bob announced the blockade raised and that he would arrive on the third day following.
His wife had grown a little anxious, and desiring to meet him as early as possible, went up to Sacramento on the day set, to see how the snow-bound passengers looked after their long detention. She arrived first, and when Bob's train rolled into the depot, white with snow from the Sierras, she was waiting and looking. She saw Bob step off the platform, and with a little exclamation of pleasure, she hastened toward him. He did not see her, as he turned to assist a lady from the train, and was so occupied in his attentions that he
DID NOT SEE HIS WIFE
Until she threw her arms around his neck and with a joyful laugh said: "Bob, don't you know me?" Of course he was surprised but not abashed, but the lady, who was not only young, but also pretty, was looking with some amusement and a look of inquiry at the new comer. Bob faced the music like a man and introduced them thus: "Little May, this is my best girl," and then his wife realized why he had been so contented' while blockaded in the snow. They became the best of friends and his wife often told the story. (Reno Evening Gazette, August 15, 1891)
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POWER OF IMAGINATION.
Mind Knows no Master but Win, yet It Is Easily Led Astray.
The imagination is easily worked upon when all the conditions are favorable. A word spoken at the right time will divert ones thoughts, or mislead one judgment. In times of epidemics alarms prevail which are frequently causeless, and again, facts can be brushed aside by a timely remark or well directed answer. In illustration of this we recall an incident of long ago. In 1865 the Twin River S. Mg. Co. was operating extensively the Murphy mine in Ophir canyon, some fifty miles south of Austin. The Superintendent was a New Yorker, whose wealthy father owned the Fifth Avenue hotel, then the swell hotel of the city. He brought to Nevada
ARISTOCRATIC AIRS,
Associated with youthful lack of judgment that was not appreciated to any great extent by the hardy prospectors then residing here, who undertook the task of exploring this arid waste without even a bean to back them; hence they hadn't any great love for an aristocrat and only tolerated his lordship when self interest prompted the exhibition of a little subserviency. In fact, never was this principle more forcibly illustrated than in the case of this same individual, for, after toadying to him until he had made all the investments that his means would permit of, they took offence at his actions in Belmont in the winter of 1866 and rode him out of town on a rail, and he was lucky to escape with his life, for in the trouble one of the partisans was killed. However, it was previous to this that the
INCIDENT ILLUSTRATING
Our proposition occurred. Of all the disagreeable airs that he had imported the most offensive were those displayed at the table to the employes at the company's hotel, the lessee of which he bound by contract to feed him with the best procurable in the market. His little exhibitions of tyranny kept the lessee and the cooks and waiters fairly trembling in their boots to please him, for he was in that camp virtually lord of all he surveyed. One day in serving dinner, some stewed codfish was brought on the table, right along with a roast tenderloin of beef. The latter, sent from Austin, was spoiled in transit, for the weather was hot, but the cook had not discarded it, and the waiter never noticed it until the dishes were placed on the table. Then it seemed to smell to heaven, and the Superintendent with his three comrades drew hastily from the table, holding their noses and asking, "What's spoiled?" The waiter quietly replied, "Excuse me, don't you like the order of codfish?" And the Superintendent thundered out, "Remove the codfish instantly." This was done, and then he carved the roast beef and all hands ate of it without suspicion of it being spoiled. (Reno Evening Gazette, August 18, 1891)
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"SUGAR-FOOT" TURNER.
Evolution of an Honest Miner To a Poker-Playing Politician.
The boys called him "Sugar Foot," and evidently had some good reasons for selecting that name to designate him by, when speaking in their own circle. He had been in every mining camp in Nevada, always in the front, always found at the latest camp and thoroughly familiar with all the locations. When speaking to strangers, if the boys referred to him, they called him "Long Turner," and as he was a very tall man and extremely gawky, strangers could spot him instantly from the title. He was such an odd looking fellow that he would be picked out in any crowd before any one else would be noticed. He was so strikingly homely in form and features that he seemed especially marked for notice and this he appeared to realize.
HE WAS LEAN AND LANK
And lantern jawed, and his nose was so long it looked like a caricature; and as if this singular face would need another marked feature, his mouth would alone have been enough to secure for him the title of the homeliest man in the camp. And to add to the effect, he shaved his upper lip, thus exposing his teeth always, for he couldn't keep his mouth shut. And those teeth! Ah! therein lay the secret of his well known civility, urbanity and politeness. He had only two teeth left, and by the perversity of nature one was an eye tooth on the upper jaw and the other a stomach tooth on the lower jaw on the opposite side. They were in no degree ornamental, of no earthly use and constantly
TANGLED HIS TONGUE
In talking; and people wondered why he didn't knock them out with the sledge and drill he carried--for he was a miner, and considered a good one, too, But when any discreet friend went so far as to kindly suggest their extraction, he always replied that his teeth were so hard to pull that he preferred keeping them until he found a good dentist to fit some to match them. He realized that therein his looks were a constant disadvantage to him, and to cover up that defect, he was the essence of politeness, and although awkward in action to a degree that was amusing, his earnest desire to please made him a favorite. Even those who didn't like him, endured him, and in passing would answer his salutation by saying "How'dy, Turner." Intimate friends would say
"HELLO, SUGAR-FOOT,"
And the ladies would say "Good morning, Mr. Turner." He was always ready to contribute to any charity, and when he was induced to attend a benefit ball the ladies made it a point to dance with him, even though his struggles were alarming, for his boots were big and his feet that filled them could not keep step or time and were always coming down on his neighbor's heels. But they endured him for his good nature, and at last he acquired an ease of manner with the ladies that really
MADE THE BOYS JEALOUS.
He was quick to discover this, for it requires no cultivation of brains to teach any man on earth--or woman either--of the presence of the green-eyed monster. At this auspicious time an itinerant dentist wandered into camp and hung out on the front walls of the hotel his charts and diagrams and displayed from his window of a front room full sets of store teeth on bright red rubber plates, under a glass. "Sugar-foot" was observed to inspect these, and regularly when he left the dinning room, he went to the hotel office, and selecting a toothpick from the box of wooden ones on the end of the bar, he would step out and while looking at the dentist's show, carefully pick away at his two solitary teeth as if he had a mouthful. At last the boys observed him closeted in the dentist's office; he forsook society and disappeared from his former haunts, and the boys "reckoned" that Sugar-foot had
GONE TO THE MINE.
This seemed reasonable, as he was foreman of a mine on Mt. Kearsarge, eight miles distant, but 13,000 feet above sea level, and one could be absent without awakening inquiry. Some weeks elapsed, when he suddenly presented himself at the bar of the favorite saloon, and with a broad grin that exposed a mouth full of new porcelain teeth, he invited everybody to have a drunk. The boys drank and complimented him, and then he dashed into society again. He was a greater favorite than ever, though some of the boys guyed him unmercifully and suggested that he ought to run for constable. He consented, and to their surprise, was elected. Alas! for human vanity. Those store teeth had led him from the path of honest toil into the filthy pool of politics. Time hung heavy on his hands and he soon be-came an
EXPERT POKER PLAYER.
His income permitted an elegant life of leisure, during which the leading, men of the county, including the judge and all the county officials--who played poker--became more or less indebted to him. At the next election he was a man of "influence," and for his aid in electing the sheriff he was appointed under sheriff, and obtained many of the sureties for the sheriff's bond, and in consideration was made custodian of the office, books, safe, papers and coin, and played poker with much éclat and (so supposed) as much success as formerly. But as duty called him away frequently, none but himself knew how often he lost. It is unnecessary to follow his steps for the few months that followed. He was absent from the county seat much of the time, and when he started after some stage robbers, which took him over the Mojave desert into Tehachapie, it was noticed that he looked more serious than usual, and his lips closed tightly over his store teeth. The reward was large for the capture. The sheriff of an adjoining county got on the trail first and caught the robbers. "Sugar-foot" reached Tehachapie at midnight, and heard of it as he took a drink with the barkeep. He was shown a room, and in the morning he was found dead, with a bullet in his brain, his revolver in his hand, and a brief note on the table to his principal stating the amount of his defalcation. (Reno Evening Gazette, August 20, 1891)
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LEGAL LIGHTS AT PIOCHE,
Who Practiced and Played When Fees and Stakes Were High.
"How tines flies," said the doctor. "It's now twenty years since the good old days in Pioche, and it doesn't seem so very long ago." And with this followed a talk with the visitor on the times gone by, in which the two relics of a past age, and a fast one, too, recalled incidents with a gusto that made them smack their lips as do boys over plums in a pudding. What a host of prominent lawyers were gathered there during the days of lavish litigation over the bonanza mines, in the palmy days of Pioche. The best legal talent of the coast was there, or brought there as occasion required, and the fees they received were very large, but not excelled by the liberty with which they spent them.
AMONG THE LAWYERS
Were Ashley, Pitzer, Thornton, Kelley, Perley, Bishop, Sabin, Rives, Hardy, Foster and others, and, imported, when required, were Garber, Messick, Ellis, Wren and many others, who all found profit in attending court. And how well they lived during that time. The market contained nothing too good for their epicurean palates, and the best clarets and champagnes washed down the French dishes. The morning cocktail effervesced with Heisdieck, and the cigars were all imported and cost the smoker 25 cents each. No 5-cent beer sign hailed the tippler then, for it was rank treason to charge less than 25 cents a drink, and the man who would have dared to talk of charging less would have been boycotted. And then the royal gaming indulged in sounds now like a romance of '49 or Monte Carlo.
THE CLUB ROOMS
Of Russ Scott were run with royal extravagance. The sideboard was overflowing with the best, and nothing was too good for his patrons. One evening a player at the faro game, being hungry, asked for oysters. Russ sent to a restaurant to bring all the oysters they had in the shell, and the order was filled at once, and two sacks, fresh from San Francisco by express were delivered at the sideboard at a dollar a dozen, and every habitué of the place invited to fill up on raw oysters and champagne. But Russ could afford it, for his patrons were opulent and played high. On one occasion a distinguished attorney in attendance at court, on a trial where his retainer was $20,000, blew in at his game $14,000 in a few nights' play. Singular to say, there was one who did not play. But when court took a
RECESS ON SATURDAY NIGHT,
He would retire to a favorite resort of his and drink and smoke without re- tiring during the time intervening until Monday morning, when with copious drafts of seltzer he would go to the barbers, have his head (a very bald one) rubbed vigorously, and at 10 o'clock A. M. when court opened, he was there with most impressive dignity to proceed with the case, no matter at what point dropped. He knew law as doctors know medicine. He simply sized up his clients' wrongs and at once applied a remedy, as a nurse would a poultice. No delving in musty reports for him, for he had helped in making them and his opinions were considered conclusive. Then why did he indulge in such a manner? He said "for rest," and it seemed reasonable, for his brain was stupified during the time and ceased all action. He is hale and hearty to-day, and as rich as a Jew. He was one of the rare successes, who took the tide at its flood, when it led on to fortune, but in his case it was one of very fair sailing, and every old-timer knows who is meant. (Reno Evening Gazette, August 26, 1891)
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THE STAGE HELD UP.
The Driver Ordered to Pass out the Box and Then Drive On
The stage, well loaded with passengers and heavily weighted down with express matter and mail bags, rolled out of Hamilton at 3 o'clock in the afternoon of November 20, 1871, bound for Pioche. As this was a daily occurrence, it was nothing unusual in itself, for the mining excitement was at the highest. Raymond & Ely stock was selling at $125 per share, that a short time before was only $7. Many holders had suddenly become rich, and this stimulated the wild cat operations of the camp to such an extent that Pioche was filled with high salaried superintendents and secretaries, fighters and miners, and all indicated a thriving and becoming mining camp.
MONEY WAS PLENTY
And high priced jewelry ornamented the shirt fronts and vests of the mining officials. The stages that transported the bullion out of camp, also carried in coin and valuables by express and were consequently considered legitimate prizes by the road agents that often held them up. On the day above named the express box was observed to be heavier than usual, and although the agent and driver tried to conceal its weight when stowing it away in the front boot, passengers quietly remarked that the boys would make a good haul if they went for it. The stage rolled along through Eberhardt canyon and on over the dusty road during the afternoon and reached the supper station without any interruption. It continued on during the evening and until after midnight, with the usual halts at stations for a
CHANGE OF HORSES
And the usual exchange of small talk between driver and hostlers. One of the passengers was Jot Travis, who was one of the owners of the line, which at that time was earning money rapidly. Another passenger was a new agent for the express and stage departments at Pioche. About midnight a station was reached and the usual change of horses made, after which it rolled on its way, and soon the passengers were all asleep. Half an hour afterward they were awakened by the stopping and sudden starting up of the stage. Travis, more alert than the others, a woke first, and reaching to unbutton a curtain, said to the express agent, "What was that," and got a sleepy reply "O! nothing; guess we just left a station." "No, said Travis, "we passed that two miles back. I heard something said about the box. I believe we've been robbed," and he was making haste to throw open the curtain when the express
AGENT HELD HIM BACK,
Saying: "Go slow. If we have been robbed you had better not poke your head out just now." "That's so," said Travis, "but I think we ought to stop and find out." He was again cautioned to wait a minute, for the stage was now bowling along as fast as six panting horses could haul it, and it was very evident something unusual had occurred. Travis was impetuous and intrepid and called out to the driver, "Pat! what't the matter?" and the reply came back in husky, muffled tones, "The boys took the box." "What's that?" said Travis; "What did they say?" and the driver answered in the same subdued and hoarse whisper, "They took the box and told me to drive on, and said their guns carried 250 yards, and I'm not out of range yet;" and with a sharp
FLOURISH OF SILK
He urged on the panting horses. Travis was furious. He insisted on getting out right there and pursuing the road agents at once; but when admonished that it would be hazardous with only revolvers and on foot to make an attack on the well mounted robbers, armed with Winchesters, he subsided, but with some profanity over the fate that compelled him to. That night the stage rolled in to Pioche minus the treasure box and $l,700 in coin and jewelry. The Sheriff, John Kane, took the trail, stimulated by a big reward, but the robbers were never caught, although they were believed to have been in Pioche three days afterwards gambling on their ill-gotten gains. (Reno Evening Gazette, September 8, 1891)
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