In the present and succeeding chapters, will be found accounts of actual experiences with Road Agents, in the practice of their profession. The exact chronological order of the narrative has, in these cases, been broken in upon, that the reader may have a correct notion of what an attack by Road Agents usually was. We shall show at a future time what it too often became when bloodshed was added to rapine. As the facts related are isolated, the story is not injured by the slight anachronism. About three weeks after the occurrences recorded in the last chapter, M. S. Moody, (Milt Moody) with three wagons started, in company with a train of packers, for Salt Lake City. Among the later were John McCormick, Billy Sloan, J. S. Rockfellow, J. M. Bozeman, Henry Branson and M. V. Jones. In the entire caravan there was probably from $75,000 to $80,000 in gold, and it must not be supposed that such a splendid prize could escape the lynx-eyed vigilance of the Road Agents. Plummer engaged Dutch John and Steve Marshland for the job, and his selection was not a bad one, so far as Dutch John was concerned, for a more courageous, stalwart or reckless desperado never threw spurs on the flanks of a cayuse, or cried “Halt!” to a true man. Steve Marshland was a bold fellow when once in action; but he preferred what mountaineers call a “soft thing,” to an open onslaught. This unprofessional weakness not only saved the lives of several whom we are proud to call friends, but ensured his own and his friends capture and death, at the hands of the Vigilantes. In Black Tail Deer Canyon, the party were seated at breakfast, close to a sharp turn in the road, when they heard two men conversing, close at hand, but hidden by the brush. Says the “First Robber,” “You take my revolver and I’ll take yours, and you come on right after me.” Every man found his gun between his knees in less than no time, and not a few discovered that their revolvers were cocked. Pulsation became more active, and heads were “dressed” towards the corner. In a few moments, Dutch John and Steve Marshland rode round the bend, with their shot-guns ready. On seeing the party prepared to receive them, they looked confused, and reined up. Steve Marshland recognized Billy Sloan, and called out, “How do you do, Mr. Sloan?” to which Billy replied, “Very well, THANK YOU.” The last two words have been a trouble to Sloan ever since, being too figurative for his conscience. By way of excuse for their presence, the Road Agents asked if the party had seen any horses, and whether they had any loose stock, saying that they had been informed by some half-breeds that the animals which they claimed to be lost had been with their train. A decided negative being vouchsafed, they rode on.