“Tom, I see through it all. You must take Stinson on the seat with you. I’ll sit behind and watch him, and the boy can watch Ray.”
When ready to start, and this arrangement was made known to Buck Stinson, he did not relish it, and said,
“I don’t want to ride up there.”
“Well, you will,” replied Southmayd sternly, pointing to the seat.
“This is pretty rough, isn’t it?” said Stinson with an oath, as he mounted to the seat.
The three mounted ruffians, Zachary, Graves, and Carter, started on in advance of the coach. Southmayd and the boy sat with their guns across their knees, watching the motions of their suspected companions. It was near nightfall. Less than half a mile distant from the station, the robbers, who had been riding at an even pace, suddenly wheeled, and gave the command to halt, simultaneously with which, Southmayd levelled his gun upon Carter, and Caldwell and the boy theirs on the other two.
Carter, stammering with alarm, made out to say, “We only want you to take a drink.”
The bottle was passed around, Southmayd and Caldwell barely touching it to their lips. Handing it to the boy, Southmayd gave him an admonitory touch with his foot,—comprehending which, he did not drink. As Carter had not drunk from the bottle, Southmayd feared that the liquor had been poisoned. Returning the bottle, the roughs who received it inquired politely if they did not want any more. The three then wheeled their horses, exclaiming,
“We’re off to Pete Daly’s,” and, clapping spurs to their horses, they were soon out of sight.
The coach went on six miles, passed Daly’s ranche, and drew up at Lorrain’s. From this ranche to Virginia City, the road for most of the distance is rough, narrow, and lies through the cañon of Alder Gulch. Nature never formed a fitter stretch of country for successful robbery. Of this our passengers were fully aware, and, anticipating that the designs of the robbers must culminate on this part of the route, Southmayd took Caldwell aside to consult as to the proper course to pursue.