Then the "Stand down here!" or "Come off of that quick, and line up alongside!" and the immediate obedience of all concerned, and the sharp "keep them hands up, gentlemen, or somebody'll be gettin' hurt," or perhaps a fierce imprecation, if the bandit was less of the "Gentleman George" type than has so often been described.
And what a scene it would make for an artist—the most indignant passenger of them all made to hold the hat and collect the "swag," as the alert-eyed bandit stands by, gun in hand, ready to shoot down the first person who makes any show of resistance!
Then the permission given to get aboard, accompanied by the rude order: "Throw out that express-box, and drive on, and don't look this way or some one'll have a hole blown through the top of his head!" and the mixture of dejection and relief shown in the faces of driver, messenger and passengers as the coach rolled on again.
What a panorama of quickly acted scenes it must have been, and how often it occurred on this road! Not even history has recorded a half of the times it happened.
Soon, almost hidden in the dense foliage of the tree-lined slopes, we pass Esmeralda Fall, whose waters dash in foam over 60 feet, to unite with the river far beneath.
As we near Pacific House, 4 1/2 miles further on, we come to where the new road diverges a little from the old one. It used to descend to the river, but we preserve a fairly even grade, solidly built, wide and well kept.
Pacific House to Placerville, 18 1/2 Miles. Then for a mile or so the road hangs over the yawning chasm of the river. It is wide and in fine condition so we dash along to where, on the up trip, the first glimpse is gained of the Crystal Range, its two chief peaks, Pyramid and Agassiz, dominating the landscape from this side as they do from Desolation Valley on the eastern side of the range.
In nine more miles Camino is reached, through clusters of pines, with perfectly level stretches for speeding and—dreaming. One's mind unconsciously goes back to the old days and he sees as in a moving-picture film the "days of '49." For this road is a road of memories. One shuts his eyes and muses, and immediately there troops before him a rushing, bustling, hurrying throng. These were the modern argonauts, the seekers for the Golden Fleece:
Great horny-handed men and tall;
Men blown from many a barren land
Beyond the sea; men red of hand,
And men in love, and men in debt,
Like David's men in battle set—
And every man somehow a man.
They push'd the mailèd wood aside,
They toss'd the forest like a toy,
That grand forgotten race of men—
The boldest band that yet has been
Together since the Siege of Troy.
Some carried packs on their backs, with pick and shovel, drill and pan. Others rode, leading their burden-bearing burros or mules. Wagon after wagon creaked along, laden to the full with supplies, food, or machinery.