n what amounted to a little garrison. Arms and ammunition
were provided for defense against the savages; provisions were laid in
to last for weeks. One hundred Concord coaches were purchased from the
Abbot-Downing Co., who had been engaged in the manufacture of these
vehicles in the New Hampshire town since 1813; they were built on the
thorough-brace pattern, and were regarded as the best that money could
buy. Seven hundred and fifty men, of whom a hundred and fifty were
drivers, were put on the pay-roll and transported to their stations.
Nearly all this outlay was made before the beginning of the
first trip. It was the greatest expenditure of money on a single
transportation project of its kind up to this time in America.
And there were a thousand hazards of the wilderness to be incurred,
a thousand obstacles of nature to be overcome before the venture
could be proved practical.
The men of money had done their part now. The line was ready for the
opening of traffic. On September 15, 1853, the mail-sacks started from
St. Louis and San Francisco. It was up to the men of action to get
them through within the schedule.
Twenty-five days was the allowance for the 2760 miles. The westbound
coach reached San Francisco about twenty-four hours inside of the
limit. On that October evening crowds packed Montgomery Street; the
booming of cannon and the crashing of anvils loaded with black powder,
the blaring of brass bands and the voices of orators, all mingled in
one glad uproar, to tell the world that the people by the Golden Gate
appreciated the occasion.
In St. Louis, the eastbound mail was an hour earlier. John Butterfield
stepped from the Missouri Pacific train with the sacks, and a great
procession was on hand to escort him to the post-office.
Bands and carriages and a tremendous display of red, white, and blue
bunting enlivened the whole city. President Buchanan sent a telegram
of congratulation.
It looked as if the northern route were out of it for good now, but it
remained for the men to keep the southern line in operation. What had
been done was only a beginning; the long grind of real accomplishment
still lay ahead.
Storm and flood and Indian massacre were incidents; hold-ups and
runaways mere matters of routine in carrying on the task. The stock
was for the most part unbroken. At nearly every change the fresh team
started off on a mad gallop, and if the driver had a wide plain where
he could let them go
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