The Hallelujah Trail Page #2

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- Are you Hobbs?

- I am, sir.

- Did you print that?

- I did, sir.

- And who, may I ask, are you?

- Frank Wallingham.

I see. How do you do?

Won't you sit down, Mr. Wallingham?

No. I wanna know why.

Why did you do it?

I've done nothing but print the truth.

600 barrels of Philadelphia-brewed

whiskey moving from here to Denver.

Yes. Then what happens when the Indians

get wind of 40 wagons full of firewater?

- They'll scalp us from head to foot.

- Indians don't read newspapers.

- Who says they don't?

- The Indian problem's all settled.

Haven't you read

the Peace Commissioners' report?

All right, then. Worse than Indians!

Revenue agents!

Oh... Haven't paid

your federal taxes, huh?

Of course I pay my taxes!

I'm an honest businessman.

And a good Republican.

But give those snoopers a taste of honey

and they'll swarm down

from every direction but up.

- You have my sympathy.

- Sympathy?

It's because

I didn't advertise in your rag,

- because I didn't give you free whiskey.

- You'd better get outta here.

You listen to me. I've got every cent

that I own tied up in this cargo.

By damn, I'm gonna see it gets to Denver.

You can print that, sir.

I shall.

I'm sending a telegram to

Colonel Gearhart at Fort Russell.

I am demanding an entire troop of

US cavalry as escort. Print that, sir!

- I shall.

- Good.

You should also put in your paper

that I say

that any tax snooper, white road agent

or Red Indian that comes near my wagons

had better be wearin'

cast-iron underwear.

And if you try to blackmail me

one more time,

I'll come back here and cram

this down your lyin' throat.

Good day, sir.

- Smythe.

- Yes, sir.

What's the name of that

temperance woman? Martindale?

Massingale, sir.

Cora Templeton Massingale.

Oh, yes, Massingale.

Do you know where she is?

On a tour of New England last month, sir.

Then Boston, to Philadelphia, to Trenton.

She may be a female hellcat

about whiskey, sir,

but a fine figure of a woman,

with eyes...

- Smythe.

- Sir?

I asked you where she is.

Oh. At Fort Russell, sir.

She got there yesterday.

Fort Russell?

Send a telegram to her. Mark it urgent.

The editor of the Julesburg Gazette

was quite right.

Indians did not read newspapers.

It's a matter of speculation therefore

just how they did

hear of the whiskey cargo.

There were couriers, of course,

and there was the smoke signal, first

used by the ancient Greeks and Hebrews.

How the Indians acquired it from them

is of no importance here. But they did.

Nor was smoke used exclusively.

A crude mirror, painted stone,

carved bark of trees

were quite popular.

And a peculiarly knotted string.

The message was always

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