But the speed was not increased, and Mr. Greeley chafed away
another half hour; when, as he was again about to remonstrate with
the driver, the horses suddenly started into a furious run, and all
sorts of encouraging yells filled the air from the throat of Henry
Monk.
"That is right, my good fellow!" cried Mr. Greeley. "I'll give you
ten dollars when we get to Placerville. Now we ARE going!"
They were indeed, and at a terrible speed.
Crack, crack! went the whip, and again "that voice" split the air.
"Git up! Hi yi! G'long! Yip--yip!"
And on they tore over stones and ruts, up hill and down, at a rate
of speed never before achieved by stage horses.
Mr. Greeley, who had been bouncing from one end of the coach to the
other like an india-rubber ball, managed to get his head out of the
window, when he said:
"Do--on't--on't--on't you-u-u think we-e-e-e shall get there by
seven if we do--on't--on't go so fast?"
"I've got my orders!" That was all Henry Monk said. And on tore
the coach.
It was becoming serious. Already the journalist was extremely sore
from the terrible jolting, and again his head "might have been
seen" at the window.
"Sir," he said, "I don't care--care--AIR, if we DON'T get there at
seven!"
"I've got my orders!" Fresh horses. Forward again, faster than
before. Over rocks and stumps, on one of which the coach narrowly
escaped turning a summerset.
"See here!" shrieked Mr. Greeley, "I don't care if we don't get
there at all!"
"I've got my orders! I work for the California Stage Company, _I_
do. That's wot I WORK for. They said, 'git this man through by
seving.' An' this man's goin' through. You bet! Gerlong! Whoo-
ep!"
Another frightful jolt, and Mr. Greeley's bald head suddenly found
its way through the roof of the coach, amidst the crash of small
timbers and the ripping of strong canvas.
"Stop, you ---- maniac!" he roared.
Again answered Henry Monk:
"I've got my orders! KEEP YOUR SEAT, HORACE!"
At Mud Springs, a village a few miles from Placerville, they met a
large delegation of the citizens of Placerville, who had come out
to meet the celebrated editor, and escort him into town. There was
a military company, a brass band, and a six-horse wagon load of
beautiful damsels in milk-white dresses representing all the States
in the Union. It was nearly dark now, but the delegation were
amply provided with torches, and bonfires blazed all along the road
to Placerville.
The citizens met the coach in the outskirts of Mud Springs, and Mr.
Monk reined in his foam-covered steeds.
"Is Mr. Greeley on board?" asked the chairman of the committee.
"HE WAS, A FEW MILES BACK!" said Mr. Monk; "yes," he added, after
looking down through the hole which the fearful jolting had made in
the coach-roof--"yes, I can see him! He is there!"
"Mr. Greeley," said the Chairman of the Committee, presenting
himself at the window of the coach, "Mr. Greeley, sir! We are come
to most cordially welcome you, sir--why, God bless me, sir, you are
bleeding at the nose!"
"I've got my orders!" cried Mr. Monk. "My orders is as follers:
Get him there by seving! It wants a quarter to seving. Stand out
of the way!"
"But, sir," exclaimed the Committee-man, seizing the off leader by
the reins--"Mr Monk, we are come to escort him into town! Look at
the procession, sir, and the brass bands, and the people, and the
young women, sir!"
"I'VE GOT MY ORDERS!" screamed Mr. Monk. "My orders don't say
nothin' about no brass bands and young women. My orders says, 'git
him there by seving!' Let go them lines! Clear the way there!
Whoo-ep! KEEP YOUR SEAT, HORACE!" and the coach dashed wildly
through the procession, upsetting a portion of the brass band, and
violently grazing the wagon which contained the beautiful young
women in white.
Years hence, gray-haired men, who were little boys in this
procession, will tell their grandchildren how this stage tore
through Mud Springs, and how Horace Greeley's bald head ever and
anon showed itself, like a wild apparition, above the coach-roof.
Mr. Monk was on time. There is a tradition that Mr. Greeley was
very indignant for a while; then he laughed, and finally presented
Mr. Monk with a brand new suit of clothes.
Mr. Monk himself is still in the employ of the California Stage
Company, and is rather fond of relating a story that has made him
famous all over the Pacific coast. But he says he yields to no man
in his admiration for Horace Greeley.