Kyburgs, Through Riverton, to Pacific House, 14 Miles.  Passing the South Fork of the American on the left, nine and a half miles brings us to Riverton, a charming river resort where many visitors stop during the season for a day or a week, as this is a noted center for fishing and hunting.  Here we cross over an excellent bridge, surrounded by a mountain amphitheater lined with trees, and our road follows the course of the bowlder-strewn river-bed.  Yonder is the scene of a noted “hold-up” in the old mining days.

If we cared to go over the files of the newspapers of the days when bullion was being shipped daily by stage to Placerville, how many accounts might we not find of “hold-ups” by daring “road-agents.”  And it does not take much imagination to picture in this secluded spot or that, the sudden appearance of a masked bandit, gun in hand, and to hear the sharp quick commands, “Halt! and Hands up!” and to hear the “squeesch” of the brake on the wheel, to see the hands of driver, express-messenger, and passengers go up in helpless anger and furious impotence.

Then the “Stand down here!” or “Come off of that quick, and line up alongside!” and the immediate obedience of all concerned, and the sharp “keep them hands up, gentlemen, or somebody’ll be gettin’ hurt,” or perhaps a fierce imprecation, if the bandit was less of the “Gentleman George” type than has so often been described.

And what a scene it would make for an artist—­the most indignant passenger of them all made to hold the hat and collect the “swag,” as the alert-eyed bandit stands by, gun in hand, ready to shoot down the first person who makes any show of resistance!

Then the permission given to get aboard, accompanied by the rude order:  “Throw out that express-box, and drive on, and don’t look this way or some one’ll have a hole blown through the top of his head!” and the mixture of dejection and relief shown in the faces of driver, messenger and passengers as the coach rolled on again.

What a panorama of quickly acted scenes it must have been, and how often it occurred on this road!  Not even history has recorded a half of the times it happened.

Soon, almost hidden in the dense foliage of the tree-lined slopes, we pass Esmeralda Fall, whose waters dash in foam over 60 feet, to unite with the river far beneath.

As we near Pacific House, 4-1/2 miles further on, we come to where the new road diverges a little from the old one.  It used to descend to the river, but we preserve a fairly even grade, solidly built, wide and well kept.

Pacific House to Placerville, 18-1/2 Miles.  Then for a mile or so the road hangs over the yawning chasm of the river.  It is wide and in fine condition so we dash along to where, on the up trip, the first glimpse is gained of the Crystal Range, its two chief peaks, Pyramid and Agassiz, dominating the landscape from this side as they do from Desolation Valley on the eastern side of the range.