It happened upon one occasion that I stopped for the night at Yank’s Hotel in Lake Valley. There were about forty teamsters stopping over for the night, and they commenced relating their experiences. Several had been relieved of their freight money quite recently, and they explained, in very graphic language, just where, when, and how it was done. One teamster present was called by his
brother teamsters “Big George,” and well he merited the name, for he was a large, powerful man, and drove a twelve-mule bell team. He made it his boast that these chaps on the road knew enough to let him alone, for up to this time he had never been troubled by them; but, singularly enough, upon his return from this very trip he was robbed of his freight money, amounting to something over $500. On his way home he took the Dutch Flat road, and was robbed within half a mile of the town of Marysville.
By coincidence, about two weeks later the same crowd of teamsters, including “Big George,” I being present also, met again at the same hotel in Lake Valley for the night, and now the remark of “Ah, George, they know enough to let me alone!” would be heard from various ones. After hearing this repeated a number of times, George said that he would give up, they were too much for him, and upon request he gave a very graphic description of the whole affair. He stated that when he was within sight of the town, which was visible a short distance ahead, it was about sundown and he was seated away up in his accustomed place upon his sheepskin, and that just as the wagon was opposite a great boulder which had slid down from the bank above partly obstructing the road, a little bit of a black-eyed cuss, who wasn’t much bigger than a good sized cud of tobacco, jumped from behind it, and placing his foot upon the hub of the forward wheel, at the same time pointing the muzzle of an immense revolver up towards George, commanded him to stop the team.
“Well, boys, I stopped them,” said George, “but at the same time I put my hand upon my revolver, which was lying all cocked and ready for business right under the sheepskin. He knew pretty well what I was going down there after, you bet, so he jumped on the hub of the wheel and shoved his howitzer close up to my eyes and right down into the barrel I could see the big leaden balls. They appeared to me to be as big as my fist, and just squirming to get at me. Says he, ‘Take your hand off of that,’ and I did. Then the little cuss, says he, ‘Put your purse into my hand.’ At the same time extending it up towards me.”
“Well, George, what did you do then?” some one asked.
“I just kept my eye down in the barrel of that six pounder, took out my purse from under the sheepskin carefully and tenderly, for I did hate to give it up to such a little insignificant squib as he
