CHAPTER XXIX.

THE SAN ANTONIO-AUSTIN STAGE PLUNDERED.

It had been a lovely day. Nature had put on her richest habiliments of bloom and beauty. The sun shone with a genial warmth, and the air was soft and perfume-laden from the thousands of wild flowers exhaling the rich aroma from the wide prairies. It was an eminently respectable party who travelled from San Antonio on the stage that day. There were in the company the Right Rev. Bishop Gregg, of the Protestant Episcopal Diocese of Texas, and Mr. Breckenridge, president of the First National Bank of San Antonio; three ladies, and six other gentlemen, merchants of San Antonio--in all, eleven travellers, well provided with the means to get through the world without fear of famishing.

The stage was the regular four-horse, United States mail coach, running in the line between San Antonio and Austin, Texas.

The respectable party of eleven travellers had as pleasant a time as the crowded condition of the stage and the monotonous nature of the scenery could be expected to afford them. Of course the bright sunlight made the scenery appear at least cheerful.

The stage was bowling along the well-beaten highway, drawn by four fresh horses, which had been hitched to it about half an hour before sundown. They had gone from "the stand" perhaps as much as four miles, and it was getting quite dusky--daylight fading away in the west. The stage had reached a point about twenty-five miles west from Austin.

In the gathering gloom, the driver beheld what appeared to be six rancheros, wearing sombreros, approaching the road just before him. Such incidents were not infrequent on that part of the route, and the appearance of the six men did not at first create any feeling of disquiet in the mind of the Jehu. But as the party drew nearer, and he discovered that they were mounted on splendid "American horses," and not "mustangs," he thought it very singular, to say the least of it. He was an old stager on the plains, and not inclined to be "panicky," but he muttered, "I'll sware, them's queer fellers, anyhow." He did not have time to think very much about them, for in another moment two of the horsemen rode alongside the stage, with revolvers cocked, and commanded, with a great oath, "Halt!" Of course there was no alternative, for two more of the robbers had galloped in front of the foremost span of horses and checked the further progress of the stage team. The other two robbers had taken up a position on both sides of the stage--one at each post, and were pointing pistols at the passengers, and with horrible oaths telling them to "tumble out" at once, or die. The astonished passengers--not even the Reverend Bishop--were just then ready to adopt the latter alternative, and very gracefully descended from the stage.

The passengers were formed into a group, which included the driver, and two of the bandits, with drawn revolvers, stood guard over them. The two horsemen in front dismounted and detached the lead-span of horses, and with the other two commenced their search for booty.

The trunks of the passengers were broken open, and every valuable thing which could be easily carried away was appropriated. The United States mail bags were then cut and the letters torn open. In this part of the stage-load they were quite successful, securing a large amount of bills in registered packages. One of the mail-bags was appropriated as a receptacle for the plunder. Having gone through the baggage and mail matter, the bandits turned their attention to the passengers. There was an animated dialogue carried on for a time, in the following style:

"Well, gentlemen and ladies, allow us to trouble you for the money and jewelry which you may have about you."

"Do you mean to rob us?" asked the Bishop.

"Oh, no! Don't use such ugly language. We just want to relieve you of a burden--that's all, old sock."

"You don't call that robbery?" asked the Bishop.

"Come, now, old coon! Dry up, or you'll not have an opportunity to ask any more nonsensical questions. Hand out your money!"

The Bishop reluctantly complied.

"Now that watch of yours!" they further commanded.

"What! Will you not allow me to keep my watch. It is a gift and dearly prized. You would not rob an humble minister of Christ of his timepiece, would you?" queried the Bishop.

"So, ho! You are a parson then, judging from the cut of your buckskins--or a priest--it makes no difference. Well, Christ didn't have any watch, and he didn't ride in stages either. He walked about to do his Father's will, and wasn't arrayed in fine clothes, and didn't fare sumptuously every day. What use has a preacher for a watch? Go and travel like the Master. Out with that watch! No more words--not one, mind you! We are not Christians, we are Philistines."

The Bishop was constrained to give up his watch--a valuable and much prized one.

"Anything more? Out with it."

The Bishop protested that he had nothing more of value about his person. They, however, made a personal examination before they were satisfied, one of them remarking:

"You can't depend on many of these long-faced canters, anyhow."

Then the robbers searched Mr. Breckenridge, and from him they obtained a plethoric pocketbook, containing one thousand dollars, and an elegant gold watch, and a very valuable diamond pin.

So they went from one to another of the passengers, until the eight gentlemen of the respectable party of travellers had been politely plundered. Then the turn of the ladies came.

"Hand out your pocketbook," said the leader to the first lady approached.

"Yes, sir, here it is," replied the frightened lady, handing him her money.

The robber took it, opened it, and examined the contents by the light of the stage lantern. Then he came back to the lady, and asked if that was all the money she had. She replied that it was. He then inquired where she was going. She told him to Houston.

"Here, madam, take your money. We regret the trouble we have given you."

So they went to the other two ladies, and from one they got a watch, some jewelry, and about one hundred dollars in cash. From another they received some valuable jewelry, and a considerable sum of money.

Their work was now completed. During the two hours they held the passengers under guard, they sometimes made jesting remarks, and at other times threatening ones. The least want of alacrity in obeying their orders was sure to subject the passengers to the direst threats. The robbers took with them the lead-span of horses when they rode away.

The whole amount of cash taken from the passengers exceeded three thousand dollars, besides several gold watches, and considerable jewelry of value. The amount taken from the mail bags was several hundred dollars.

Who were the robbers? This question was inferentially answered sometime afterward, when, in a conflict with a Texas official, Jim Reed, a member of the gang, was mortally wounded, and confessed that he was one of the party, and that his associates were men from Missouri, noted as "brave boys." Who were so noted on the 7th day of April, 1874, at which time the stage robbery took place, but Frank and Jesse James, and the Younger Brothers? It is now the settled conviction of all who are acquainted with the facts, that the James Boys were there and "bossed the job."