35-xx-xx ep33Wells Fargo

of the throbbing history of the West, the daring courage, conquest and achievement of frontier fighters. Hand in hand with the brilliant record of cupboard wagon and stagecoach and spanning the continent, those the glorious epoch of the Wells Fargo Express.

The Indian by 1854 was no longer the greatest menace to the stagecoach driver. Instead, hundreds of miles of desert and mountain were infested by highwaymen. 25 miles from San Francisco, an old concord coach with eight passengers, the driver, guard in a treasure chest, the thundering down an arrow, mountain road.

Driver and guard were complimenting themselves on two things. Hey, get along, hey, get along. Yeah, sure, spinin' along this trip, ain't we, Sam? Yeah, Bill? Looks like I ain't gonna have no use for these yuck gonna build a hole in the cross from an ease ever since we left the mine.

Yeah, ain't that horse less at its best for ya. Just look at the six of them gorse-panking along there. Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, Bill. Hey Bill, look, coming right at us. Hey. Hold on.

Hold on. Go on. Fire. Hold on. We got you covered. They'll help me. Put down your gun. Hey, boy. Oh, sir. Oh, I can try to test. Throw it out. Oh, we going to be held up?

You are held up. Come on, only a pilot of the coach. Here's your treasure chest. A good hole this time. There's $25,000 in it. Three of you search for passengers. You two tell the questions.

I sure know Dustin Knuckett's are hidden. Your vice is mighty familiar, mister. If your face matches that voice, the oars I'd say you would... Just your mouth, or I'll get you both of these bells.