The Robbers did not expect to come upon them so soon, and were not masked. But for this fact, and the sight of the weapons on hand for use, if required, the train would have been relieved of the responsibility attaching to freighting treasure in those days, without any delay. Little did the party imagine that the safety of their property and their lives hung upon a thread, and that, the evening before, the “prudence” of Steve Marshland had saved six or eight of the party from unexpected death. Yet so it was. Wagner and Marshland had followed their trail, and hitching their steeds to the bush, with their double-barrelled guns loaded with buckshot, and at full cock, they crawled up to within fifteen feet of the camp, and leisurely surveyed them by the light of the fire. The travellers lay around in perfect ignorance of the proximity of the Road Agents; their guns were everywhere but where they ought to be, and without a sentry to warn them of the approach of danger, they carelessly exposed themselves to death, and their property to seizure. Wagner’s proposal was that he and Marshland should select their men, and kill four with their shot-guns; that then they should move quickly around, and keep up a rapid fire with their revolvers, shouting loudly at the same time, to make them believe that they were attacked by a large concealed force. There was no fear of their shooting away all their charges, as the arms of the men who would inevitably fall would be at their disposal, and the chances were a hundred to one that the remainder would take to flight, and leave their treasure--for a considerable time, at all events--within reach of the robbers. Steve, however, “backed down,” and the attack was deferred till the next day. It was the custom of the packers to ride ahead of the train towards evening, in order to select a camping place, and it was while the packers were thus separated from the train that the attack on the wagons took place. On top of the Divide, between Red Rock and Junction, the robbers rode up to the wagons, called on them to halt, and gathering the drivers together, Dutch John sat on his horse, covering them with his shot-gun, while Steve dismounted and searched both them and their wagons. Moody had slipped a revolver into his boot, which was not detected; $100 in greenbacks, which were in his shirt pocket, were also unnoticed. The material wealth of Kit Erskine and his comrade driver, appeared to be represented by half a plug of tobacco, for the preservation of which Kit pleaded; but Steve said it was “Just what he wanted,” and appropriated it forthwith.