An Encounter With Train Robbers

The year is 1898. The American West, though tamed in many respects, still held echoes of lawlessness and adventure. John A. Hill and Jasper Ewing Brady chronicled one such thrilling episode, a firsthand account of a young telegraph operator’s unexpected and perilous An Encounter With Train Robbers. This is his story.

Fresh from a disheartening experience as a schoolteacher, the young man, eager to prove his mettle, sought a position more suited to his talents. He penned a letter to Mr. R.B. Bunnell, the Superintendent of Telegraph for the P. Q. & X. Railroad in Kansas City, Missouri, boldly proclaiming himself an expert operator. Whether swayed by the young man’s confidence or simply in need of personnel, Mr. Bunnell responded with a pass to Alfreda, Kansas, offering him the night office position at a monthly salary of $37.50. The wage was less than his previous employment, but the chance for redemption outweighed the financial sacrifice. He packed his meager belongings, bid farewell to the teaching profession, and embarked on his new adventure.

Alfreda, a town he knew nothing about except its proximity to the Kansas-Colorado border, proved to be a stark and unwelcoming place. The train brakeman’s earlier description of it as "charming" now rang with undisguised sarcasm. The landscape was barren, punctuated only by a water tank, a pumphouse, and the telegraph office itself – a repurposed boxcar, stripped of its wheels and crudely adapted for its new purpose. A small platform, two windows, a door, and a signal board perched atop a pole completed the desolate scene.

He arrived at 6:30 in the morning to an eerily deserted landscape. An hour later, his solitude was broken by the arrival of a burly Irishman, the pumper, who ambled along on a railroad velocipede. The pumper, upon learning the young man’s identity, offered a less-than-reassuring welcome: "Well, I hope as how ye will like the place. Burke, the man here afore ye, got scared off by tramps, and I reckon he’s not stopped runnin’ yet."

There was no day operator. The nearest dwelling was the section house, two miles up the track, where the operator and pumper boarded with the section boss. The railroad company, in a gesture of practicality, provided a velocipede for transportation. The young operator found himself alone in the boxcar office, two miles from civilization and twelve miles from the nearest town, a situation ripe with anxiety and apprehension. He steeled his resolve, determined to excel and earn a promotion to a less isolated post. Little did he know that his experiences in Alfreda would be far more dramatic than a simple transfer.

After a month of uneventful nights, one evening at seven o’clock, he arrived at his office. The sky was dark, heavy with the promise of a violent storm. The pumper, before departing, commented on the impending weather, hoping the "whistlin’ av the wind" would keep the young operator company. The operator, however, was less than comforted, knowing Kansas’s reputation for tornadoes and the vulnerability of his boxcar office.

He lit his lamps, settled in, and occupied himself with letter writing and reading between taking train orders. The office primarily served as a point of contact for freight trains stopping for water during the night.

Around 12:30 a.m., the door suddenly swung open, and a man entered. This was an unusual occurrence, breaking the monotony of the pumper and train crews. The stranger was no tramp. He wore a long overcoat, buttoned high, with the collar turned up, and a slouch hat pulled low, obscuring his features. He approached the desk and, in a gruff voice, inquired about the time of the next eastbound passenger train.

The operator replied that the Overland Flyer, due at 1:30 a.m., did not stop at Alfreda. The man’s response was swift and menacing. He produced a revolver, pointed it at the operator’s face, and demanded, "Young man, you turn your red light and stop that train, or I’ll make a vacancy in this office mighty d—d quick."

The sight of the revolver, looming large and ominous, convinced the operator of the wisdom of compliance. He raised his hand and switched on the red signal light. The door opened again, and three more men entered, their faces hidden behind masks. It was immediately clear that they intended to rob the Overland Flyer, a train known to carry significant amounts of bullion and currency eastward. They must have heard of a shipment that night.

The operator, standing with his back to the table, overheard the dispatcher announce that the Flyer was thirty minutes late from the west. He subtly placed his hands behind him, his right hand resting on the telegraph key. Carefully, he opened the key, intending to alert the dispatcher, but one of the masked men noticed his actions. "Bill, watch that little cuss. He’s monkeying with the instrument and may give them a warning," he warned the leader.

The operator ceased his attempt, trying to appear nonchalant. "Bill" decided to eliminate any further risk by binding and gagging him. Two of the men tied his hands in front of him, secured his legs, and stuffed a dirty gag into his mouth. "Throw him across those blamed instruments so they will keep quiet," Bill ordered.

The men flung him face down onto the table, his stomach pressing against the relay, silencing the sounder. By chance, his left hand touched the key, and he discovered he could move it slightly. He began to tap out a message to the dispatcher, pretending to struggle. The leader, noticing his movement, punched him in the ribs and threatened further violence.

Despite the pain and fear, the operator persisted. While the robbers were engrossed in their plans, he slowly and silently telegraphed a message to the dispatcher. His weight muffled the relay, preventing any noise. He described the situation, requesting that the Flyer be warned to disregard the red light or, better yet, that an armed posse be dispatched from Kingsbury, twelve miles up the road. He repeated the message twice, hoping it would be received and understood.

The cords and gag became increasingly painful, and his anxiety grew with each passing minute. Time seemed to crawl. Finally, he heard the distant whistle of the Flyer’s engine as it descended the grade, followed by two short blasts, indicating that the red light had been seen and the train was slowing. "My God!" he thought. "Has she been warned?"

The robbers rushed out of the office as the train approached, leaving him helpless on the table. He heard the hiss of air brakes as the train stopped at the water tank. Then, a deafening fusillade erupted. The sound was music to his ears, confirming that a posse was on board and the robbery was being thwarted. One of the robbers was shot, and two were captured, but "Bill," the leader, escaped. As he ran past the office, he yelled, "I’ll fix that d—d operator, anyhow." A gunshot followed, shattering the window and sending a bullet into the table inches from the operator’s head.

Though uninjured, the intense fear and stress caused him to lose consciousness. When he awoke, he was surrounded by passengers and trainmen, with a doctor tending to him.

Once he had recovered sufficiently, he telegraphed the dispatcher. The chief, who had been summoned, instructed him to close the office and report to his office in the morning as a copy operator.

Thus, the young telegraph operator’s courage and resourcefulness during An Encounter With Train Robbers earned him a well-deserved promotion, transforming a terrifying ordeal into a pivotal moment in his career. His quick thinking and dedication to duty saved the train and its passengers from a potentially devastating robbery, proving his value to the railroad and solidifying his place in its ranks. He had faced An Encounter With Train Robbers, stared down the barrel of a gun, and emerged victorious, not through brute force, but through ingenuity and unwavering commitment. This tale of An Encounter With Train Robbers serves as a testament to the bravery and resilience of ordinary individuals caught in extraordinary circumstances. His harrowing experience during An Encounter With Train Robbers became a legend. He became the legend, after the An Encounter With Train Robbers.

This story, penned by John A. Hill and Jasper Ewing Brady, offers a glimpse into the perils and adventures that were a part of life in the American West. It highlights the importance of quick thinking, bravery, and dedication in the face of danger, and serves as a reminder of the human spirit’s capacity to overcome adversity.

By John A. Hill and Jasper Ewing Brady in 1898, which was compiled and edited by Kathy Alexander/Legends of America and updated in March 2025.

Author & Notes: This tale is adapted from a chapter of a book written by John A. Hill and Jasper Ewing Brady, entitled Danger Signals, first published in 1898 and again in 1902 by Chicago Jamieson-Higgins Co. The tale is not 100% verbatim, as minor grammatical errors and spelling have been corrected.

Also See:

• Bill Bradley, Gambler and Gentleman (Hill and Brady 1898)
• Blue Field, Arizona & An Indian Scrimmage (Hill and Brady 1898)
• Some Freaks of Fate (Hill and Brady 1898)
• Mormon Joe – The Robber (Hilly and Brady 1898)
• The Railroad in the American West
• Railroads & Depots Photo Print Gallery