THE DISCOVERY OF SILVER IN NEVADA--THE STAGE ROAD--HANK MONK--ROAD
AGENTS--THE PARSON--THE STOOL PIGEON--SPIRITS--THE BOYS WHO CAPTURED
THE THIEF--A YOUNG DICK TURPIN--THE IRISHMAN AND THE ROAD AGENT.
About the year 1858 occurred another very important event in the
history of mining upon the Pacific coast, this being the discovery of
silver mines in the State of Nevada. The mines of California contain
gold principally, but small quantities of silver being found, and in a
few locations only mines of copper, although, except in a few cases,
not in paying quantities. In the State adjoining, however, upon the
eastern slope of the Nevada range, the rule was reversed, the principal
character of the ore being of silver, but small quantities of gold
having been so far discovered.
The excitement throughout the mining regions was intense, and thousands
could be seen upon the various roads on their way to the new Eldorado.
Hundreds deserted their ranches, miners forsaking their claims, and
business men and mechanics also joining in the almost universal
stampede. At the commencement of the silver mining industry it could
not, for the want of proper machinery and facilities for working the
ores, be reduced or worked on the Pacific Coast, and it therefore
became necessary to export it to other portions of the country for the
purpose. The ore was packed in sacks, placed upon the backs of mules,
and in this manner transported across the mountains to San Francisco,
from whence it was shipped to the various reduction works in New
Jersey, or to Swansea, Wales. In a short time, long trains of mules
heavily laden with the valuable silver ore could almost daily be seen
wending their way slowly but surely among the rocks and over steep
declivities of the mountains, destined for the sea coast.
The roads through the mining regions were rough, and across the
mountains steep and precipitous, it being almost impossible to convey
freight or supplies into the silver mines, except upon the backs of
mules. This state of affairs was soon changed, however, for roads
were immediately commenced, starting from a point a few miles above
Placerville, a system of toll roads being constructed across the
mountains nearly one hundred miles in extent. The completion of these
roads changed, in a short time, the character of the silver mining
industry; for by means of them, all the necessary machinery for working
the rich ores could easily be transported across the mountains from the
foundries and work shops of San Francisco.
Soon were seen long trains of heavily laden wagons, drawn by mules,
containing an endless assortment of iron wheels, pulleys, boilers,
smoke-stacks and enormous fly-wheels, as well as all of the various
tools and parts of machinery necessary for the working of the mines.
Heavily loaded “schooners” also, drawn in some instances by twelve
large mules, could often be seen in large numbers stringing along the
road for miles, laden with household goods, hardware, groceries and
provisions for the use of the vast numbers who had congregated there
and were engaged in mining, prospecting, and also in laying foundations
of the principal town, Virginia City.
These toll roads were grand affairs; broad, smooth and as hard as a
floor, for they were kept well watered by regular water carts, which
being filled from the numerous springs by the roadside, traveled back
and forth, sprinkling them thoroughly. This road, during the dry
season and when not encumbered by heavy snows upon the summit of the
mountains, for several years presented the appearance of a busy street
in some cities. Men on foot, and vehicles of all descriptions, were
continually passing in one direction or the other. For the convenience
of this immense traffic, houses, barrooms and way stations for the
accommodation of teamsters and travelers, were necessary and numerous,
being situated but a short distance apart along the entire length of
the road. Some of them were fine and costly buildings, while others,
again, were of the cheapest character.
This also was the regular stage road, from Sacramento City through
Placerville. During the summers of ’58-’59 the travel over this stage
route was very heavy, and for a greater portion of the time two and
three stages loaded with passengers left Placerville daily for the
silver mines. To drive a stage upon this route the most expert drivers
were required; sober and steady men who had great presence of mind,
for upon these qualities the lives of a load of passengers, numbering
in some instances as many as eighteen or twenty persons, depended, and
among them would always be found a few ladies and children. The horses
used were usually of a Spanish mustang breed, the wheelers generally
being old and steady American horses. Six horses was the usual number
required, and the leaders being, as was often the case, only half
broken, untamed mustangs, it required drivers who thoroughly understood
their business.
Among these experienced drivers, and the most prominent, was the one
who brought Horace Greeley through on time, Hank Monk, and who had the
reputation of being one of the most expert drivers on the coast; he
died recently in Carson City. Hank Monk was what is termed among stage
men a lucky driver, seldom meeting with an accident and no passenger
ever having been injured who rode with him. If an accident ever did
happen to him upon his route, he kept cool, puffed his cigar, and kept
his own counsel.
A passenger, who on one occasion occupied an outside seat, relates
that in descending the steep grade from the mountain side into Carson
Valley, and when within about a half-mile of the foot of the grade,
the brake bar gave way. The stage, with its load of passengers, rolled
forward upon the wheelers, but Hank took an extra turn of the line
around his hands, held his cigar firmly between his clenched teeth,
and speaking quietly to his mustang leaders said, “Gerlang! gerlang!”
and they certainly did, for never in the history of staging was faster
time made down that or any other grade. The passenger sitting beside
him became frightened and started to jump, but Monk said, “Set still!”
which fortunately for him he did. The passengers inside were frightened
at the rate of speed with which the descent was being made, and not
knowing the cause of it naturally supposed that some accident had
happened to the driver. One of them, therefore, upon thrusting his head
out of the window to reconnoitre, met the smiling countenance of Monk,
and quieted the fears of his fellow passengers by remarking:
“We are making pretty fast time; but Hank Monk has hold of the lines,
and it’s all right anyhow.”
The running wild mustangs were guided safely to the level valley below,
and brought to a standstill in front of the hotel for lunch. When asked
by some of the passengers why he drove so furiously
[Illustration: I’VE TIME FOR LUNCH.]
down that grade, he replied that he was a little behindhand for lunch,
that was all.
There were other stage-drivers also who drove upon this mountain
road, although not so well known perhaps as Monk, yet who had high
reputations as expert drivers. Among them were Watson and Nelson. There
was another one, who, if not so expert as a driver, and possibly did
not acquire so great a notoriety in the business as others, at least
when alive, created a greater astonishment at death, and this was
Charley, the noted stage-driver who had followed the business of stage
driving for some years upon various roads throughout the State, and
upon whose death, which occurred only recently, it was discovered that
the noted stage-driver was a woman.
It could hardly be expected that a well-traveled road like this,
over which so much treasure was being transported, and where so many
teamsters were returning with their freight money about them, should be
free from the inquisitive eye of the road agent, although it was for a
while. The temptation, however, in a short time became too great, and
the unusual facilities for operating this species of industry rendered
the conditions such that it followed from necessity. The business of
certain classes of the sporting fraternity among the small towns of
the mining regions, had at this time become almost entirely destroyed,
and many of them in their desperation had actually gone to work. But
with the opening of this new road, with its immense travel and unusual
facilities, other opportunities of a little better nature than hard
work were brought into existence; and the result was that many availed
themselves of them. Teamsters were robbed of their well-earned freight
money; travelers on foot, on horseback, and under all conditions, were
relieved of their surplus at all points, and at all hours of the day or
night.
It was often amusing, as well as very instructive, to stop by chance at
some large hotel where a number of travelers and teamsters had put up
for the night, and hear their stories of how they were ordered to stop
and pungle by these knights of the road.
It happened upon one occasion that I stopped for the night at Yank’s
Hotel in Lake Valley. There were about forty teamsters stopping over
for the night, and they commenced relating their experiences. Several
had been relieved of their freight money quite recently, and they
explained, in very graphic language, just where, when, and how it was
done. One teamster present was called by his
[Illustration: CHARLEY, THE FEMALE STAGE-DRIVER.]
brother teamsters “Big George,” and well he merited the name, for
he was a large, powerful man, and drove a twelve-mule bell team. He
made it his boast that these chaps on the road knew enough to let him
alone, for up to this time he had never been troubled by them; but,
singularly enough, upon his return from this very trip he was robbed of
his freight money, amounting to something over $500. On his way home he
took the Dutch Flat road, and was robbed within half a mile of the town
of Marysville.
By coincidence, about two weeks later the same crowd of teamsters,
including “Big George,” I being present also, met again at the same
hotel in Lake Valley for the night, and now the remark of “Ah, George,
they know enough to let me alone!” would be heard from various ones.
After hearing this repeated a number of times, George said that he
would give up, they were too much for him, and upon request he gave a
very graphic description of the whole affair. He stated that when he
was within sight of the town, which was visible a short distance ahead,
it was about sundown and he was seated away up in his accustomed place
upon his sheepskin, and that just as the wagon was opposite a great
boulder which had slid down from the bank above partly obstructing the
road, a little bit of a black-eyed cuss, who wasn’t much bigger than a
good sized cud of tobacco, jumped from behind it, and placing his foot
upon the hub of the forward wheel, at the same time pointing the muzzle
of an immense revolver up towards George, commanded him to stop the
team.
“Well, boys, I stopped them,” said George, “but at the same time I put
my hand upon my revolver, which was lying all cocked and ready for
business right under the sheepskin. He knew pretty well what I was
going down there after, you bet, so he jumped on the hub of the wheel
and shoved his howitzer close up to my eyes and right down into the
barrel I could see the big leaden balls. They appeared to me to be as
big as my fist, and just squirming to get at me. Says he, ‘Take your
hand off of that,’ and I did. Then the little cuss, says he, ‘Put your
purse into my hand.’ At the same time extending it up towards me.”
“Well, George, what did you do then?” some one asked.
“I just kept my eye down in the barrel of that six pounder, took out my
purse from under the sheepskin carefully and tenderly, for I did hate
to give it up to such a little insignificant squib as he
[Illustration: BIG GEORGE AND THE LITTLE ROAD AGENT.]
was, but ’twas no use. I just reached over and laid it gently into
his hand, like a little man. He jumped down, thanked me kindly, and
remarked as it was getting late I had better hurry up or I would lose
my supper.”
Many were the incidents related by these teamsters of their various
experiences with the road agents and how they escaped, for at this time
many, for fear of robbery, would express their money over, or take in
its stead a check which they would have cashed in San Francisco or in
Sacramento City upon their return home.
A gentleman was driving a buggy on his way from Dutch Flat to Virginia
City, when, near his destination, he was stopped by a man; a pistol
was presented, and the usual formalities were gone through with as is
necessary in such cases. The gentleman handed over a $20 gold piece,
at the same time remarking that he was very sorry, but that was all he
happened to have with him. He noticed in handing it over to the road
agent that the latter appeared to be very nervous and frightened, and
he remarked to him that he believed he was new to the business. The
agent answered that he was and that it was his first offense, and that
he only did it from absolute necessity. Upon being further questioned,
he stated that he had worked for a whole year in a livery stable as
hostler in a town not far away; that the livery stable keeper failed,
and he never received a single dollar. Upon further inquiry it was
learned that he had a young wife and two small children living in the
State of Ohio.
“They are really suffering, and, by George,” he said, “I was determined
to raise money somehow to send them.”
The gentleman then informed him that he himself kept a livery stable,
and promised to give him a good job if he would get into the buggy with
him. After some persuasion he did so, and it was afterwards stated
that he proved to be a faithful and competent man, remaining there in
the Samaritan’s employ for nearly four years, and the gentleman never
stated the facts of the case until after the hostler had returned to
his family in the East.
There were numerous incidents of a similar character constantly
occurring on this road.
A tall, lean and lank specimen of a Downeaster, who was engaged in
mining, was very leisurely walking along the road one Sunday afternoon
on his way home.
[Illustration: THE ROAD AGENT OUTWITTED.]
He had been out visiting among some of his lady acquaintances and
was dressed in the regulation store-clothes style; in place of a
collar, however, he wore a plain white handkerchief for a necktie. In
consequence of a close resemblance to a certain minister of the gospel
who frequently visited that part of the country, he was called by all
his acquaintances “the parson.” All at once one of these polite road
agents stepped out from behind a tree, and, presenting his weapon,
demanded the “parson’s” money instantly, or off would come the top of
his head. Now, the parson was totally unprepared for such an encounter,
and as he had in his pocket a purse containing about $250, which he
didn’t like to part with without a struggle, the question suggested
itself at once as to how he could save it. An idea occurred to him, and
the fact of his being called a parson could now be made good use of,
since he was well aware that he very much resembled one. Especially
was this true when dressed up with his old-fashioned black coat and
his white necktie, and they saved him. He replied to the demand in
a drawling tone, that unfortunately the profession in which he was
engaged didn’t enable him to carry about much money, but that he had a
prayer-book which might be sold for a trifle, at the same time putting
his hand into his coat pocket for the book. The agent, ordering him
to take his hand from his pocket, again repeated his demand, or off
would come his head and at once, if he didn’t hand over. Then says the
parson, in his drawling style:
“If I must go hence, first let me pray, won’t ye?” at the same time
kneeling down in the proper attitude.
The road agent, being now satisfied that he had sure enough struck a
genuine parson, turned in disgust and remarked as he went away:
“Oh, pray away all night, if you like, and be d---- d!”
But this little incident, like many others which often occur among the
parsons, has a sequel.
Some four years later, in Sacramento City, the parson and some of
his acquaintances were enjoying themselves as miners usually do when
visiting the large cities in the barroom of one of the hotels. During
the course of the evening, a well-dressed man, who seemed to be serving
in some capacity in the hotel, took him by the arm to one side, and
asked him if he ever lived up on the toll-road a few miles above
Placerville. The parson replied that he did, and that his residence was
in a cañon near the road, where he was at present mining. The man then
asked:
“You were a minister some four or five years ago, were you not?”
“Why, no, I wern’t at all; they only called me parson because I looked
so much like one. But say, stranger, why do you ask me these questions?”
“Well, because when that road agent demanded your money, you remember
you said you were a preacher, and got right down in the dust to pray.”
“Yaas, I know that; but you see that chap got the drop on me, and as I
had no weapon with me I was bound to save about $250 that I had in my
pocket.”
“Well,” says the man, “and you did it well, too.”
“Why,” Yank asks.
“Why? because I was the chap who was concerned in that little funny
business.”
“The h--l you was! why, you don’t say so! really though?”
“Yes, sure. You see I was on the way home from the other side and was
dead broke, and I just thought to myself, now here is a good chance.
It was my first and last trial in the business, for the idea of
robbing a country preacher broke me all up. Do you notice that I am now
bald-headed?”
“Why, yes,” answered the parson; “what’s the matter?”
The man replied. “I was so disgusted with myself that I shed my hair
all out on the way home.”
“Well, I’ll be doll garned!” exclaimed the parson. “Let’s go and take
suthin’.”
And, by the way, this reminds me of another incident of a similar
nature, where the principal actor could not resist good chance.
The robberies or attempts to rob became so frequent within a few miles
of town, that it was very evident that the men engaged in the business
were a part of the sporting class, with which the town at this time
was filled. They would go up the road, leaving town late at night, and
return before daylight. Many were suspected, but for want of evidence
they could not be arrested. The sheriff, equal to the emergency,
employed a man who had himself been in that business in some other
quarter of the globe but who had reformed, to act as a spy or stool
pigeon; to go out upon the road at night and endeavor to recognize some
of these sporting chaps.
On the day following, an old gentleman complained at the sheriff’s
office of having been stopped upon the road and robbed of quite a sum
of money, and remarked that he believed that he could recognize the
chap if he could see him, as it was not a very dark night. Just at this
moment our stool pigeon, or highway detective, entered the door. The
old gentleman took a good, square look at him, and exclaimed:
“There! There! That’s the chap who robbed me!”
The sheriff said to him:
“Tom, did you rob this man?”
“Oh, yes,” he replied, “and here is the money,” at the same time
throwing the purse upon the table.
When asked why he did it he replied,
“Well, it was such a good chance that I really couldn’t help it.”
The murder and robbery of Capt. Harmon of Smith’s Flat, a mining camp a
few miles above Placerville, is worth mentioning, for there is one very
mysterious circumstance in connection with this man which is difficult
of explanation.
The captain had been a seafaring man for many years, and, having become
tired of the sea, he came up to this mining camp in the spring of
’57 and opened a small store. It was noticed by many, in fact it was
well known among all who had made his acquaintance, that he was almost
daily in the habit of seating himself in the back part of his store and
holding a conversation, as he very earnestly maintained, with his wife
who had been dead about seventeen years, and with a daughter also who
had been dead but a few years.
It was useless to argue or to reason with him in relation to the
matter, for he maintained most positively that such was really the
case, and they often conversed upon their family affairs and of events
which had occurred in early life. It was the general opinion among all
that the captain was of course insane upon that subject, and for this
reason but little was ever said about it. Spiritualism, at this early
day, at least in this part of the country, had not yet been invented,
although at the East it was being developed gradually, having at this
date progressed as far as table-tipping and other similar phenomena.
For this reason, when the captain maintained that he was conversing
with the spirits of his wife and daughter, it could not be accepted.
If I am not mistaken, I think that he had been in the camp about
eighteen months, when, one day, he made known to a number of his
customers that he had been informed the day before by his wife that
he was soon to leave all earthly affairs and live with his family in
the other world. He said that his wife did not inform him just when
he should die, or by what means, and she had refused to enlighten him
any further, only insisting that he would soon be with them. The news
seemed to make him feel rather down-hearted; not, as he said, from
a knowledge of the fact of his going, but the means which would be
used to take his life. He had no enemies that he knew of, and was,
furthermore, in very good health. The boys tried to laugh him out of
the thought of such a thing, but it was of no use. He received the
news from his wife upon a Sunday, and on the morning of the Thursday
following he was found upon his bed dead, having been killed with an
axe by a Mexican. The safe was broken open and robbed also. The axe was
soon found in a shaft, and the Mexican who owned it was arrested, tried
and executed.
Another instance in which two courageous and bright specimens of young
America took a very active part, occurred in Eldorado County, some time
during the year ’63.
[Illustration: HUNTING JAIL BIRDS.]
These two boys, about 12 years of age, with their shot guns started
out one pleasant morning on a hunt, and in passing the cabin of a
miner, they saw coming from it a strange, suspicious looking character,
who was loaded down with plunder. Being satisfied that the man was a
thief, they ordered him to return the goods to the cabin, which he
did. With their guns in readiness, they then ordered him to walk in
the trail ahead of them, and in this manner they marched the fellow
into Placerville, a distance of nearly three miles, into the hospitable
arms of Sheriff Rogers, who gave him a very cordial reception. Upon
investigation, he proved to be an ex-convict, and a very dangerous man,
but unfortunately for him and very fortunately for the boys, too, at
this time he was unarmed.
On the way to town, he tried every means to prevail upon the boys to
lay down their guns. He offered to bet them five dollars that they
could not kill a bird perched upon a bush near the trail. One of the
boys remarked that “Them wasn’t the kind of birds we’re huntin’ for;
we’re huntin’ only for jail birds.” He promised them in case they would
just lay their guns down in the grass for a minute or so, he would give
each of ’em a great many shares of stock in one of the richest mines in
the Comstock.
They politely informed him that the only kind of stock they cared about
just then was gun stock, and that they had shares enough of that to go
round.
One of the most laughable cases of highway robbery occurred a few years
later in Sonoma County, the agent in the affair being a youth about
fourteen years of age. Commencing in fun, he unfortunately ended his
joke in dead earnest.
This young man was walking out upon the road one evening, and hearing
the stage coming behind him, in order to avoid being run over, climbed
upon the bank alongside of the road. The latter was very narrow and
sandy at this point, and the horses were walking.
Now, near to the edge of the bank where the boy was standing was a
picket fence, and to keep from falling he was obliged to hug rather
closely to it. In doing so one of the pickets became loose, just as the
stage had got opposite to him. In a spirit of fun, without calculating
upon the effect of the movement, he pointed his loose picket toward the
driver of the stage, and in a coarse professional tone demanded him to
stop; and, to his astonishment, the driver stopped the team. To carry
out the joke, he then ordered the driver to throw out Wells & Fargo’s
treasure box; and he was again astonished to see the order promptly
obeyed and the treasure box fall near him upon the bank. It now became
necessary, in order to continue the joke to a favorable termination, to
give one more peremptory order, and to hesitate was to be lost. So he
commanded the driver to “Go on!”
[Illustration: THE PICKET GUARD.]
The stage with its load of passengers started onward, leaving the
treasure in care of the picket guard. Now came the crisis in the
affair; the last act in the drama which was to determine the future
destiny of a bright specimen of Young America.
The boy seated himself upon the box and rubbed his eyes and scratched
his head to satisfy himself ’twas not all a dream. He said to himself:
“Now here is an opportunity come to me that I never dreamed or thought
of before. Is it my destiny? Now shall I be a good little boy, take
back the box and tell ’em that I only done it for fun, or shall I keep
on jest as them bank cashiers and other fellers do sometimes, and make
the most of such opportunities that come without huntin’ for um?”
He concluded that if it was only done for a joke, he had carried it a
little too far, but if it was done in dead earnest, he hadn’t quite
finished the job. While thus meditating between the two opposite
courses and upon the future possibilities, he finally decided that
he would finish the job, and adopt the profession of a road agent,
conscious of the ability to make it a complete success, and even rival
Black Bart himself in the profession of a stage inspector. He also
thought how he could jest make Jime Hume hump himself a-trying to
follow his trail.
The boy was, perhaps, justified in this conclusion by what he had
accomplished with the aid of a single picket, and therefore judged
of what he might be able to do if backed by an entire fence. With
such thoughts running through his mind, and which, no doubt, he had
acquired from the perusal of certain papers published exclusively for
the benefit of such boys, giving very graphic accounts of the exploits
of “Three-Fingered Jack,” “The Bandit’s Bride,” as well as others of
a similar character, and with such bright visions of future notoriety
looming up before him, he wrestled with the treasure box for a few
minutes, the latter soon looking as though it had been chasing a
cyclone, and had caught it. By means of a big rock he had turned the
box wrong side out, and the golden coin was scattered about among the
grass, glistening in the starlight. But unfortunately for our infant
hero his career was short, and for the same reasons, perhaps, that
other great enterprises often end in failure; he had engaged in a
profession that he had not the capacity, experience, or the necessary
qualities to fill, and it therefore ended by his being locked up.
It was about the year ’66 that an Irishman drove ahead of him into
the town of Placerville a road agent, whom he had captured out on the
toll-road a few miles above.
When asked by Mr. Griffith, the sheriff, how he had managed to capture
such a man, who, by the way, was much the larger as well as the younger
of the two, Pat replied:
“Indade, thin, I was jist a thraveling along the road alone by meself,
do yez moind; attinding to me own business and havin’ no thought of
harum at all, whin, all to onct, this dirthy spallpeen came out from
behoind a bush, and, pinting his gun at me hid, says to me, ‘An’ will
yez plase be afther handing me ther kine that yez are carryin’ about
with yez, and be hasty about it, too, or darmed if Oi don’t blow the
hid off av yez.’
[Illustration: “GO AN’ SAY ME AGENT.”]
“Says Oi: ‘Yez will, thin?’ Says he: ‘Indeed thin Oi will.’ ‘But
hold aisy, now,’ says Oi, ‘divil a bit will yez do that same,’ and I
comminced to fale about in me pockets to say if Oi cud sthrike some
kine, but divil a bit cud Oi sthrike ther color of it at all at all.
An’ so says Oi: ‘Bad luck to it, thin, but Oi have left me purse with
me agent in town.’ ‘An’ who’s yer agent in town,’ says he. ‘Indade,
thin, would yez loike to make his acquaintance?’ says Oi. ‘Oi would,’
says he. ‘An’ yez shall, thin,’ says Oi. An’ jist at this pint, do yez
moind, Oi extinded out me lift hand an’ saized his gun, an’ thin yez
cud say nothin’ at all fer the dust that was afther continually risin’
from the ground, begorrah. An’ be jabers it seemed to me that two of
thim cyclones had met at ther spot, and was afther havin’ a wrestlin’
match, do yez see? Prisintly there was a dull sound, do yez moind, and
thin all was quiet. The dust clared away, and jist there in front of
me, be jabers, was sthanding ther chap who wanted me kine. But phawt
was Oi a doin’ mesilf dooring the toime, do yez ask? Indade, thin, it
was doorin’ ther great commotion of the illimints, do yez moid, thet
Oi succaded in turnin’ his right flank, be jabers, an’ gittin’ aroun’
to ther rear of me inimy and climbin’ up over his shoulder to ther top
av him, do yez see. Oi was jist afther holding him at bay, and wid dee
phunny end of me gun jist a swaiping the flois from his oibrows, do yez
see. Thin says Oi: ’ ’Tis me agent yez would loike to see?’ ‘No, not
to-day,’ says he, ‘for Oi’m busy.’ ‘Indade, thin, but Oi’m sure thet
yez do,’ says Oi, ‘an’ we’ll be afther thraveling to*-gither to say
Mr. Griffith, me agent in town, sor. He is a foine gintleman, and the
latch-sthring av his hotel is continually hangin’ handy to raich for
ther loikes of yez. He’ll be afther tinderin’ to yez the hospitality
av his foine manshun, an’ indade, thin, it will not cost yez a cent.
Now forward, march, and Oi’ll follow yez, an’ ’twill be an honor to
yez, too, to be sane thraveling the road wid an honest gintleman loike
meself a followin’ afther yez, as a varlet o’ chamber, begorra.’”