an agent or superintendent, and invested him with great authority.  His beat or jurisdiction of two hundred and fifty miles was called a “division.”  He purchased horses, mules harness, and food for men and beasts, and distributed these things among his stage stations, from time to time, according to his judgment of what each station needed.  He erected station buildings and dug wells.  He attended to the paying of the station-keepers, hostlers, drivers and blacksmiths, and discharged them whenever he chose.  He was a very, very great man in his “division”—­a kind of Grand Mogul, a Sultan of the Indies, in whose presence common men were modest of speech and manner, and in the glare of whose greatness even the dazzling stage-driver dwindled to a penny dip.  There were about eight of these kings, all told, on the overland route.

Next in rank and importance to the division-agent came the “conductor.”  His beat was the same length as the agent’s—­two hundred and fifty miles.  He sat with the driver, and (when necessary) rode that fearful distance, night and day, without other rest or sleep than what he could get perched thus on top of the flying vehicle.  Think of it!  He had absolute charge of the mails, express matter, passengers and stage, coach, until he delivered them to the next conductor, and got his receipt for them.

Consequently he had to be a man of intelligence, decision and considerable executive ability.  He was usually a quiet, pleasant man, who attended closely to his duties, and was a good deal of a gentleman.  It was not absolutely necessary that the division-agent should be a gentleman, and occasionally he wasn’t.  But he was always a general in administrative ability, and a bull-dog in courage and determination —­otherwise the chieftainship over the lawless underlings of the overland service would never in any instance have been to him anything but an equivalent for a month of insolence and distress and a bullet and a coffin at the end of it.  There were about sixteen or eighteen conductors on the overland, for there was a daily stage each way, and a conductor on every stage.

Next in real and official rank and importance, after the conductor, came my delight, the driver—­next in real but not in apparent importance—­for we have seen that in the eyes of the common herd the driver was to the conductor as an admiral is to the captain of the flag-ship.  The driver’s beat was pretty long, and his sleeping-time at the stations pretty short, sometimes; and so, but for the grandeur of his position his would have been a sorry life, as well as a hard and a wearing one.  We took a new driver every day or every night (for they drove backward and forward over the same piece of road all the time), and therefore we never got as well acquainted with them as we did with the conductors; and besides, they would have been above being familiar with such rubbish as passengers, anyhow, as a general thing.  Still, we were always eager to get a sight