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every stage。
Next in real and official rank and importance； after the conductor； came
my delight； the drivernext in real but not in apparent importancefor
we have seen that in the eyes of the common herd the driver was to the
conductor as an admiral is to the captain of the flag…ship。 The driver's
beat was pretty long； and his sleeping…time at the stations pretty short；
sometimes； and so； but for the grandeur of his position his would have
been a sorry life； as well as a hard and a wearing one。 We took a new
driver every day or every night （for they drove backward and forward over
the same piece of road all the time）； and therefore we never got as well
acquainted with them as we did with the conductors； and besides； they
would have been above being familiar with such rubbish as passengers；
anyhow； as a general thing。 Still； we were always eager to get a sight
of each and every new driver as soon as the watch changed； for each and
every day we were either anxious to get rid of an unpleasant one； or
loath to part with a driver we had learned to like and had come to be
sociable and friendly with。 And so the first question we asked the
conductor whenever we got to where we were to exchange drivers； was
always； 〃Which is him？〃 The grammar was faulty； maybe； but we could not
know； then； that it would go into a book some day。 As long as everything
went smoothly； the overland driver was well enough situated； but if a
fellow driver got sick suddenly it made trouble； for the coach must go
on； and so the potentate who was about to climb down and take a luxurious
rest after his long night's siege in the midst of wind and rain and
darkness； had to stay where he was and do the sick man's work。 Once； in
the Rocky Mountains； when I found a driver sound asleep on the box； and
the mules going at the usual break…neck pace； the conductor said never
mind him； there was no danger； and he was doing double dutyhad driven
seventy…five miles on one coach； and was now going back over it on this
without rest or sleep。 A hundred and fifty miles of holding back of six
vindictive mules and keeping them from climbing the trees！ It sounds
incredible； but I remember the statement well enough。
The station…keepers； hostlers； etc。； were low； rough characters； as
already described； and from western Nebraska to Nevada a considerable
sprinkling of them might be fairly set down as outlawsfugitives from
justice； criminals whose best security was a section of country which was
without law and without even the pretence of it。 When the 〃division…
agent〃 issued an order to one of these parties he did it with the full
understanding that he might have to enforce it with a navy six…shooter；
and so he always went 〃fixed〃 to make things go along smoothly。
Now and then a division…agent was really obliged to shoot a hostler
through the head to teach him some simple matter that he could have
taught him with a club if his circumstances and surroundings had been
different。 But they were snappy； able men； those division…agents； and
when they tried to teach a subordinate anything； that subordinate
generally 〃got it through his head。〃
A great portion of this vast machinerythese hundreds of men and
coaches； and thousands of mules and horseswas in the hands of Mr。 Ben
Holliday。 All the western half of the business was in his hands。 This
reminds me of an incident of Palestine travel which is pertinent here； so
I will transfer it just in the language in which I find it set down in my
Holy Land note…book：
No doubt everybody has heard of Ben Hollidaya man of prodigious
energy； who used to send mails and passengers flying across the
continent in his overland stage…coaches like a very whirlwindtwo
thousand long miles in fifteen days and a half； by the watch！ But
this fragment of history is not about Ben Holliday； but about a
young New York boy by the name of Jack； who traveled with our small
party of pilgrims in the Holy Land （and who had traveled to
California in Mr。 Holliday's overland coaches three years before；
and had by no means forgotten it or lost his gushing admiration of
Mr。 H。） Aged nineteen。 Jack was a good boya good…hearted and
always well…meaning boy； who had been reared in the city of New
York； and although he was bright and knew a great many useful
things； his Scriptural education had been a good deal neglectedto
such a degree； indeed； that all Holy Land history was fresh and new
to him； and all Bible names mysteries that had never disturbed his
virgin ear。
Also in our party was an elderly pilgrim who was the reverse of
Jack； in that he was learned in the Scriptures and an enthusiast
concerning them。 He was our encyclopedia； and we were never tired
of listening to his speeches； nor he of making them。 He never
passed a celebrated locality； from Bashan to Bethlehem； without
illuminating it with an oration。 One day； when camped near the
ruins of Jericho； he burst forth with something like this：
〃Jack； do you see that range of mountains over yonder that bounds
the Jordan valley？ The mountains of Moab； Jack！ Think of it； my
boythe actual mountains of Moabrenowned in Scripture history！
We are actually standing face to face with those illustrious crags
and peaksand for all we know〃 ＇dropping his voice impressively＇；
〃our eyes may be resting at this very moment upon the spot WHERE
LIES THE MYSTERIOUS GRAVE OF MOSES！ Think of it； Jack！〃
〃Moses who？〃 （falling inflection）。
〃Moses who！ Jack； you ought to be ashamed of yourselfyou ought to
be ashamed of such criminal ignorance。 Why； Moses； the great guide；
soldier； poet； lawgiver of ancient Israel！ Jack； from this spot
where we stand； to Egypt； stretches a fearful desert three hundred
miles in extentand across that desert that wonderful man brought
the children of Israel！guiding them with unfailing sagacity for
forty years over the sandy desolation and among the obstructing
rocks and hills； and landed them at last； safe and sound； within
sight of this very spot； and where we now stand they entered the
Promised Land with anthems of rejoicing！ It was a wonderful；
wonderful thing to do； Jack！ Think of it！〃
〃Forty years？ Only three hundred miles？ Humph！ Ben Holliday would
have fetched them through in thirty…six hours！〃
The boy meant no harm。 He did not know that he had said anything that
was wrong or irreverent。 And so no one scolded him or felt offended with
himand nobody could but some ungenerous spirit incapable of excusing
the heedless blunders of a boy。
At noon on the fifth day out； we arrived at the 〃Crossing of the South
Platte；〃 alias 〃Julesburg；〃 alias 〃Overland City；〃 four hundred and
seventy miles from St。 Josephthe strangest； quaintest； funniest
frontier town that our untraveled eyes had ever stared at and been
astonished with。
CHAPTER VII。
It did seem strange enough to see a town again after what appeared to us
such a long acquaintance with deep； still； almost lifeless and houseless
solitude！ We tumbled out into the busy street feeling like meteoric
people crumbled off the corner of some other world； and wakened up
suddenly in this。 For an hour we took as much interest in Overland City
as if we had never seen a town before。 The reason we had an hour to
spare was because we had to change our stage （for a less sumptuous
affair； called a 〃mud…wagon〃） and transfer our freight of mails。
Presently we got under way again。 We came to the shallow； yellow； muddy
South Platte； with its low banks and its scattering flat sand…bars and
pigmy islandsa melancholy stream straggling through the centre of the
enormous flat plain； and only saved from being impossible to find with
the naked eye by its sentinel rank of scattering trees standing on either
bank。 The Platte was 〃up；〃 they saidwhich made me wish I could see it
when it was down； if it could look any sicker and sorrier。 They said it
was a dangerous stream to cross； now； because its quicksands were liable
to swallow up horses； coach and passengers if an attempt was made to ford
it。 But the mails had to go； and we made the attempt。 Once or twice in
midstream the wheels sunk into the yielding sands so threateningly that
we half believed we had dreaded and avoided the sea all our lives to be
shipwrecked in a 〃mud…wagon〃 in the middle of a desert at last。 But we
dragged through and sped away toward the setting sun。
Next morning； just before dawn； when about five hundred and fifty miles
from St。 Joseph； our mud…wagon broke down。 We were to be delayed five or
six hours； and therefore we took horses； by invitation； and joined a
party who were just starting on a buffalo hunt。 It was noble sport
galloping over the plain in the dewy freshness of the morning； but our
part of the hunt ended in disaster and disgrace； for a wounded buffalo
bull chased the passenger Bemis nearly two miles； and then he forsook his
horse and took to a lone tree。 He