With the design of stealing a boat, and making a night trip down Snake River, to some point accessible to the Portland steamboats, they proceeded at once to the river bank fronting the town. Piling their baggage into the first boat they came to, they pushed out into the stream. The wind was blowing fearfully, and the maddened river rolled a miniature sea. They had proceeded but a few rods when a sudden lurch of the boat satisfied them that the voyage was impracticable, and they returned to shore.
Their only alternative now was to secure a passage that night in the coach for Walla Walla, or remain in Lewiston at the risk of being recognized the next day. It was a dark, blustering night. Hill Beachy, whose invariable custom it was to retire from the office at nine o’clock, from some inexplicable cause became oblivious of the hour, and was seated by the stove, glancing over the columns of a much-worn paper. His clerk stood at the desk, preparing the way-bill for the coach, which left an hour later for Walla Walla. The street door was locked. Suddenly the silence without was broken by the heavy tramp of approaching footsteps. A muffled face peered through the window. Beachy’s attention was arrested by a hesitating triple knock upon the door, which seemed to him at the time ominous of wrong. Catching up the lamp, he hurried to the door, on opening which a tall, well-proportioned man, in closely buttoned overcoat, with only his eyes and the upper portion of his nose visible, entered, and with a nervous, agitated step, by a strangely indirect, circular movement, advanced to the desk where the clerk was standing.
Addressing the clerk in a subdued tone, he said, “I want four tickets for Walla Walla.”
“We issue no tickets,” replied the clerk, “but will enter your names on the way-bill. What names?” he inquired.
For a moment the stranger was nonplussed. Recovering himself instantly, with seeming nonchalance, he gave the names of John Smith and his brother Joseph, Thomas Jones and his brother Jim; and, throwing three double eagles upon the desk, he hastily departed.
As he closed the door, Beachy said to the clerk, “I’m afraid there will be a stage robbery to-night. Go to the express-office and tell the agent not to send the treasure chest by this coach. Don’t wake the passenger in the next room. I will see the citizens who have secured passage, and request them to wait until to-morrow.”