I told him I would take it, but I said, "How much do you want me to take?" He told me he wanted me to take $52,000. I told him the company would not like for me to put it in the safe unless it was expressed, but he said he didn't want to express it. "All right," I said, "unless we are held up and robbed I will deliver the money to Wells-Fargo Express Company." "Now," I said, "in what shape is the money?" He pointed to an old black satchel sitting on a chair and said, "There is the wallet." I told him to wait until I went into dinner with the passengers, then for him to go out there and take the satchel and put it in the front boot, then pull a mail sack or two up over it and on top of that throw my blankets and buffalo robes which lay on the seat on top of the mail sacks, then go away and let it alone. Do not let any one see you do this. Let me say that Maxwell's ranch was headquarters of the Ute agency which was established a long time prior to my traveling through there. A company of cavalry was detailed by the Government to camp there to impress the plains tribes who roamed the Santa Fe Trail east of the Raton range. The Ute tribe was very fond of Maxwell and looked up to him as children look up to their father. One old Indian watched Maxwell put the money in the boot of the stage, and after he had left to obey my instructions this old Indian who would have gone through the "firy furnace" for Lucien Maxwell, stood guard over the stage. I did not know it at that time, but the Indian afterwards asked me how I made it in? When I came back to the coach I laid the buffalo robes to one side, then I laid the mail bags to one side and put the "wallet" as Mr. Maxwell called the old black satchel, right in the bottom of the boot and laid one mail bag by the side and laid an old blanket over both these, then piled on the balance of the mail bags and lastly my buffalo robes. I usually slept during the day after I took this money. My driver did not even know I had it. At night I slept right there under the driver's seat in the boot of the coach. At night I rode, before we quit driving for our rest, on the seat of the boot with my brace of pistols between me and the driver. Within about three miles of Willow Springs, Kansas, a stage station, twenty-five miles west of Council Grove, I discovered twenty-five horses hitched to the rack. There was no retreat, so I had to drive right on in. Just as we drove up twenty-five men came out of the settlers' store and saloon and mounted.