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Show The Difference Between a Tally-bo aud a Treasure Coach CoL Kane aa a Driver. TEE COACHING CLUB OEAZE. How "Battling Jack" Carney Handles the Eibbons Coaching for Pleasure Pleas-ure and for Business, j "-er -j-KARi.Y every largo city of the United States from New York to San Francisco ami St. Paul to Mew Orleans now boasts a coaching club, and tho members of these social organizations get abundance 1 of pleasure ana lots of heallh-ful heallh-ful outdoor exercise from tho aiimsemct of bowling to and fro over level roads between the city rendezvous and the country inn yo Jack if he wants to. It'll lie handy to have hiin out of the way in case of trouble." So I went on the box, and wrapping my great coat about me enjoyed en-joyed to the full the sharp but bracing air of early winter and the quaint desultory chat of iuy companion. Suddenly from the starlit gloom a bronco bron-co rider appeared racing down the trail. He hardly tightened rein to cry: "They're layiu' for ye at the top of the hill; stop a bit an' I'll bring help." Then he disappeared behind us. Jack laughed j a harsh, ominous laugh and growled: "Stop nothin'; this coach is goin' through on schedule time." I asked an explanation. He vouchsafed vouch-safed none save the word "road agents," and thereafter was grim, watchful, expectant. ex-pectant. All I could hear was the roll of the wheels, the click of hoofs and a peculiar bustle of activity inside the coach. The two men at my back held their Winchesters ready for use. Were they trying to frighten a presumable "tenderfoot," or was something going to hapen? I soon found ont. For two or three miles we progressed at almost a walk. Then Jack shortened the reins, coiled thorn in careful equity of length about his left wrist, and gripped the whip with his right hand. "Got a gun?" he queried. "Yes." "Better pull her; uiebbe ye can shoot somethin' if ye don't got scared. Hold on hard, for we're goin' to go like boll down hell's own road." Out swirled the lash in snaky curves, cutting deep along the flanks of the startled steeds. A wild bound, a stretching stretch-ing of the traces, an immense increment of speed. For a moment we whirled over a level trail, and then we began a steep descent with a bluff on one side the track, a gully on the other. There came a bright flash, a sharp report, a buzzing through the air of some swift flying COACH Ota. FOR PLEASURE, that marks the termini of the journey. The start is always an exhilarating experience. ex-perience. The millionaire driver gets on the box and takes the reins to his four-in-hand from the grasp of a liveried lackey. The guards bustle about with ladders and aid the fair guests to seats on top where, by the aides of their nattily nat-tily dressed escorts, they may diaplay to the best advantage their charming features feat-ures and dainty toilets. There are no inside passengers, for within the doors of the coach one can neither see nor be noon, and such oblivion would destroy nil the eclat of the trip. Finally everything every-thing is arranged and then "All ready?" "Yep." "Let go." The hostlers jump back from the tossing toss-ing heads of the thoroughbreds, the impatient im-patient steeds telegraph their willing strength along the shiny black of the tugs, the wheels turn round, the cheery bugle sounds: "Ta tn ta rauta!" And the merrymakers go on their joyous way, cheered by the inspiriting inspirit-ing shouts of the admiring small boy and the feebly waving handkerchiefs of envious female friends who are "not in it." They leave the crowded streets for cool country lanes, they roll along benoath the shade of glorious and grateful trees, they lunch on the broad piazza of some well appointed and high priced suburban resort, and they return with the dusk to an aristocratic caravansary caravan-sary where dinuer is but the preliminary to music and dancing. They flunk they have been coaching. In one sense of the term thoy have; in another they haven't. The environment (if a club outing has no spice of danger, and within human limitations suggests no possibility of peril, bar the chances TBS MOUNTED MBSHENOKR'S WARNING. body. Tongues of flame leaped alike from the cliff and from the coach. In front there rose a wall of fire. "Shoot, curse ye!" yelled Jack giving uie a fierce dig iu the side and at the same time goading on his already furious furi-ous beasts. Where I fired I know not, but all in an instant I Beetned to feel the "fierce joy of battle." It was all over in five minutes and the next I remember was our finally successful attempt on level ground with brake and rein to reduce re-duce the frantic horses to subjection. Just in the gray of dawn we reached Dick Dear's ranch at Red Cloud and drove through the stockade gates. Dick strolled out yawning and but half attired. at-tired. "Any news from below?" he queried. "No," responded Jack. "We waa tendered a little reception by a committee of citizens comin' down tho hill. That was all." I learned afterward that the surly men inside the treasure coach, with the two who had joined us en routo, had charge of fTiOOOO in coin and greenbacks that subsequently formed the cash capital of a Deadwood bauk. Fred C. Dayton. A COACMNO FOR BUSINESS. of a runaway or a spill, and the passenger passen-ger is as well assured of safety as if seated seat-ed in a chair at home. This is coaching for fun. So far I have written simply from tho standpoint of a spectator, for I never had the distinguished honor of a place by the side of Col. Delancey Kane or any other of the noted whips of that ilk; but there is one thing I would not barter for the best seat a tally-ho can afford af-ford the memory of my early morning ride down Break Neck hill when "Rattling "Rat-tling Jack" Carney took his foot from the brake and sent the long lash of his whip singing and snarling about the flanks of four maddened horses. That was coaching for business. Early in November. 1878, I left the Union Pacific tr.in at Sydney, Nob,, and secured transportation in a coach north bound over the Deadwood trail. My instructions in-structions from the newspajw that then employed me were to try and catch the cavalry column operating against Dull Knife's band of Cheyennes. The vehicle in which I traveled was a steel liued, enormously heavy affair known as a "treasure coach," and the other passengers pas-sengers were three well armed, reticent men, whose only apparent luggage was a small box chained to the rear seat. LEA VINO A STATION ON THK TRAIL. Their unsociability grew tiresome by the time we had crossed the Platte, and when one morning, soon after midnight, we halted at a station to change horses and drivers I besought the new whip for a seat beside him. j Despite the thawing influence of ev- eral drinks and a cigar he demurred, ol- leging that the cold would "freeze the j durned liver" out of me. While we ar- i guod the anatomical point involved iu i his proposition the fresh horses were i made ready and one of two new pas- j tsengur who had already secured places j on top reniarked: "Let hiio. roost with ' |