One night during the summer of 1873, a stage manned by Charley Phelps and Joe Pinkham was ordered to stop by a road agent, while passing through Portneuf canyon. Instead of obeying the order, the stage-men fired in the direction of the voice. The fire was returned and Phelps, who was driving, fell back, mortally wounded. Pinkham caught up the reins and the stage dashed on without stopping. Phelps was buried in the cemetery at Malad, where the following inscription stands over his grave:
“In memory of Charles Phelps, of St. Lawrence County, New York. Driver on the Overland Stage Line, who was mortally wounded, July 16, 1873, in an attack on his coach by highwaymen, in Portneuf Canyon, Idaho, and died on the following day.
“Age 43 years.
“He fell, as all true heroes fall,
While answering to his duty’s call.
“This stone is erected by his friends and companions, who loved and respected him, and sincerely mourn his death.”
The days of the stage coach have passed, and with them the incidents that we class under adventure and romance in the reading, but that meant hardship, danger and exposure in the making. The advent of the railroad was the beginning of a new era in Bannock county—an era of prosperity and growth, but also, let us not forget, an era for which the way was paved by the hardy pioneers who faced the wilderness unafraid, and tamed it for the uses of civilization. These men, following their humble lot in life and performing their toilsome duties from day to day, were in truth empire builders, to whom is due the respect and honor of all right-feeling men.
CHAPTER IX.
THE RAILROAD.
It occurs to few men, as they glide smoothly across the Snake river in a vestibuled train, and watch the seething waters toss and tumble below the substantial iron bridge, to think of the problem the passage of this same stream afforded the traveler of fifty years ago. In his “Ventures and Adventures,” Ezra Meeker tells of how he crossed the Snake in 1852. Mr. Meeker and his party had crossed the plains from Iowa, on their way to Oregon, and by the time they reached Idaho their funds were almost exhausted. Ferries were scarce and where one was found, the price asked for a passage was prohibitive to most of the immigrants.
“Some immigrants,” writes Mr. Meeker, “had caulked three wagon beds and lashed them together, and were crossing, but would not help others across for less than from three to five dollars a wagon, the party swimming their own stock. If others could cross in wagon-beds, why could not I do likewise? Without much ado, all the old clothing that could possibly be spared was marshalled, tar buckets ransacked, old chisels and broken knives hunted up, and a veritable boat repairing and caulking campaign inaugurated, and shortly the wagon-box rode placidly, even if not gracefully on the turbid waters of the formidable river.