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."