ed the news of the attack on Fort Sumter from St.
Joseph to San Francisco in eight days and fourteen hours.

Newspapers and business men had awakened to the importance of this
quick communication, and bonuses were offered for the delivery of
important news ahead of schedule. President Buchanan's last message
had heretofore held the record for speedy passage, going over the
route in seven days and nineteen hours. But that time was beaten by
two hours in the carrying of Lincoln's inaugural address. Seven days
and seventeen hours--the world's record for transmitting messages by
men and horses!

The firm of Russel, Majors & Waddel spent $700,000 on the pony express
during the eighteen months of its life; they took in something less
than $500,000. But they accomplished what they had set out to do. In
1860 the Butterfield line was notified to transfer its rolling-stock
to the west end of the northern route; their rivals got the mail
contract for the eastern portion.

The Wells-Butterfield interests were on the under side now. The change
to the new route involved enormous expense; and with the withdrawal of
troops at the beginning of the Civil War, Apaches and Comanches
plundered the disintegrating line of stations. The company lasted only
a short time on the west end of the overland mail and retired. Its
leaders now devoted their energies to the express business.

At this juncture a new man got the mail contract. Ben Holliday was his
name, and in his day he was known as a Napoleon. Perhaps it was the
first time that term was used in connection with American promoters.
Holliday, who had begun as a small storekeeper in a Missouri village,
had made one canny turn after another until, at the time when the mail
came to the northern route, he owned several steamship lines and large
freighting interests and was beginning to embark in the stage
business. The firm of Russel, Majors & Waddel was losing money, owing
in part to bad financial management and in part to the courageous
venture of the pony express. Holliday absorbed their property early in
the sixties. He was the transportation magnate of his time, the first
American to force a merger in that industry.

One of his initial steps was to improve the operation of the stage
line. Some of the efficiency methods of his subordinates were
picturesque to say the least. In Julesburg, which was near the mouth
of Lodge Pole Creek in northeastern Colorado, the agent was an old
French