The Passing Of Peg-Leg
By Andy Adams in 1906
The year was 1891, and the crisp September air hinted at the approaching autumn. The Denver & Rio Grande Railroad, a vital artery connecting the burgeoning settlements of the American West, snaked its way through the rugged terrain of Colorado. On one fateful evening, the eastern overland express found itself an unwilling participant in a drama that would etch itself into the annals of the Old West: a daring train robbery at the unassuming watering station of Texas Creek.
Texas Creek, a mere blip on the railroad map, offered an undeniable allure to those seeking illicit opportunities. Nestled within the embrace of the Rocky Mountains’ front range, its remote location and challenging terrain made it an ideal spot for an ambush. It was here that Peg-Leg Eldridge, a name whispered with a mixture of fear and grudging respect, and his band of outlaws meticulously planned their audacious heist.
The Passing Of Peg-Leg, as this event would later be known, was conceived in the shadows of the Sangre de Cristo Range, a formidable barrier rising to the southwest. Further beyond, the majestic, snow-capped peaks of the Continental Divide stood as silent sentinels, their vast wilderness capable of swallowing an entire army, let alone a band of outlaws seeking refuge.
The allure of this untamed country was undeniable. The mountains, with their hidden valleys and unexplored crevices, presented a sanctuary where pursuit seemed an exercise in futility. Emboldened by this perceived invincibility, Eldridge and his men meticulously crafted their plan, executing it with chilling precision and leaving no room for error.
As the clock approached ten o’clock that night, the train, as per its routine, began to slow as it approached Texas Creek to take on water. This seemingly mundane act of replenishment was the signal for the carefully orchestrated operation to commence. Two of Eldridge’s men emerged from the shadows, their weapons trained on the engineer and fireman, effectively neutralizing any immediate resistance. Meanwhile, the remaining two outlaws swiftly decoupled the express car from the rest of the train, isolating their prize.
With the engineer and fireman ordered to disembark and the express car detached, the robbers commandeered the engine, driving it and the express car nearly two miles away from the station. Here, far from prying eyes and potential interference, they employed the crude but effective power of dynamite to breach the safe that the express messenger claimed he couldn’t open.
While the express company remained tight-lipped about the exact amount of money stolen, the smelters, whose valuable gold retorts were known to be in transit on that train, were less reticent. These retorts, filled with precious metal, were easily portable, as if they had already been processed into coinage. The Passing Of Peg-Leg was proving to be a lucrative endeavor.
The robbery itself transpired with remarkable speed and efficiency, leaving the passengers with little opportunity to react. Almost as soon as the heist began, the telegraph wires from Texas Creek crackled with news of the audacious act, transmitting the information to railroad headquarters.
Enter United States Marshal Bob Banks, a figure whose name struck fear into the hearts of criminals across state lines. Stationed 156 miles from the scene of the crime, Banks possessed a formidable reputation built on his relentless pursuit of lawbreakers, a pursuit often aided by the keen noses and unwavering determination of his bloodhounds. A true man of the West, Banks was equally adept at navigating the vast plains and scaling treacherous mountains. He was known for his unwavering resolve, a force as inescapable as death itself.
Within a mere half-hour of receiving the report, an engine was coupled to a caboose at the division where Banks resided. The marshal, known for his promptness, wasted no time in gathering his weapons and ushering his dogs aboard. With everything in readiness, the makeshift train sped off into the night, the tracks cleared for its urgent mission.
The journey was far from smooth. The relentless coal traffic had taken its toll on the roadbed, but the engine and caboose thundered onward, their wheels seemingly oblivious to the uneven terrain. Midway to their destination, Banks was joined by a contingent of railway and express officials, their faces grim with determination. From there, the train veered westward, following the course of the Arkansas River, the daring engineer pushing the engine to its absolute limits.
The night’s journey culminated in a heart-stopping passage through the Grand Canyon of the Arkansas River. The engineer plunged into this immense chasm as if it were a gentle, sloping prairie. As the engine navigated the canyon’s hairpin turns, the headlight illuminated the towering granite columns that soared half a mile into the sky, their grotesque shapes and Gothic arches sculpted by the relentless passage of time.
As the officials huddled together, discussing every conceivable scenario and strategizing for the capture of the robbers, their hopes rested almost entirely on the three bloodhounds slumbering on the floor of the caboose, their dreams punctuated by occasional growls. Powerless to directly confront the outrage, they turned to these animals as their most valuable allies.
Under Banks’ guidance, the dogs were more than just animals; they were indispensable tools in the pursuit of justice. Their sense of smell, far surpassing human capabilities, was an unwavering source of truth. As the saying went, "You can believe the dog when you doubt your own eyes. His opinion is unquestionably correct." The successful conclusion of The Passing Of Peg-Leg hinged on their abilities.
As the train emerged from the canyon, it was a short distance to the scene of the crime. The residents of Texas Creek, roused from their sleep, were tasked with gathering saddle horses for the posse. This proved to be a time-consuming endeavor, as few horses were readily available at the station, and the horses from nearby ranches were roaming free on the open range. However, upon the train’s arrival, Banks and the express officials found mounts awaiting them, ready to carry them to the site of the hold-up.
Following the robbery, the train crew had ventured out to retrieve the engine and express car. While the engine remained unscathed, the express car was a scene of devastation, its interior shattered by the repeated blasts of dynamite used to breach the safe. The local safe, however, remained untouched, the messenger having wisely opened it to prevent it from suffering the same fate as its larger counterpart. With the damage assessed and repairs initiated, the train resumed its journey, delayed by several hours and significantly lighter in its cargo.
As dawn broke in the east, the posse arrived at the scene of the crime. Banks, wasting no time, began to circle the area until he located the robbers’ trail. Even the robbers’ temporary campsite, situated near the chosen ambush point, was quickly discovered. Banks’ experienced eye immediately discerned the number of men involved, despite their efforts to conceal their movements. The brazen act was the work of Peg-Leg Eldridge and three accomplices, a fact later confirmed when Eldridge’s reputation and history came to light.
Peg-Leg Eldridge was a product of the tumultuous era following the Civil War. During that period, the vast herds of the Southwest were largely neglected, resulting in thousands of cattle reaching maturity without proper identification. In those days, a skilled cowboy with a good horse, a rope, and a branding iron was more valuable than capital. The "good old days," when a young man could brand fifteen calves annually – all better than yearlings – for every cow he owned, were fondly remembered by cattlemen of all ranks, though those times were long gone. Eldridge was a man of that era, and when conditions changed, he failed to adapt. He continued to brand calves that belonged to others, a practice that ultimately cost him a leg in a confrontation with a disgruntled rancher.
More than just a physical injury, the gunshot branded him as a cattle thief, an outcast with every man’s hand turned against him. Thus, the path that led to that September night was a gradual but inevitable descent. Eldridge, a child of circumstance, possessed the instincts of a natural plainsman, capable of reading the land in ways that others could not.
By night, the stars served as his compass, and the heat waves of the plains warned him of mirages. The clouds clinging to the mountain peaks and the wind whispering through the pines held meaning for him, secrets he understood implicitly. The Passing Of Peg-Leg was, in many ways, a testament to his skills.
The robbers’ trail was followed for only a few miles before their destination became clear: the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. The pursuing party was delayed by the need to gather pack horses, leaving them at least twelve hours behind the fleeing outlaws.
As the posse ascended the foothills, the dogs eagerly led the way, their noses guiding them through the rugged terrain. As they gained altitude, the robbers’ trail became more distinct and easier to follow, despite the roughness of the mountain slopes. The robbers had cleverly utilized old game trails, paths carved by elk and deer seeking passage through the range during the approach of winter. These trails, instinctively chosen by the animals, led directly to the passes through the mountains.
Along these paths, the trail was so clear that the dogs seemed almost superfluous. The hounds, one a seasoned veteran and the other two younger and less experienced, displayed an exuberance of energy and ambition. Bred from Russian stock, these dogs were silent trackers, never giving voice to warn their prey of their approach. Man-hunting was an exhilarating and nerve-wracking pursuit. Even though the trail appeared hours old, the possibility of encountering the fugitives at any moment kept the pursuers in a state of heightened awareness.
All day, the marshal and his posse climbed higher and higher, their bodies straining against the steep incline. As night fell, they reached a narrow plateau, punctuated by small parks, marking the mountain’s crest. Here, they made their first halt since the morning’s start. Banks recognized the necessity of resting their horses, even though he was eager to press on. He knew that the robbers would only halt to save their horses, and he had to do the same. Forcing a tired horse beyond its limits often left even experienced riders stranded. The Passing Of Peg-Leg was a race against time and endurance.
Near midnight, the marshal and his posse resumed their pursuit. Banks was now forced to proceed on foot, relying on his favorite dog, leashed, to guide him. The posse followed with the horses. The dogs led them several miles southward along the mountain crest. This was where their skills proved invaluable. The robbers had traversed stretches of lava beds, leaving virtually no visible trace. However, with the aid of the dogs and the dampness of the night, their trail was followed as easily as if it had been made in fresh snow.
The descent was treacherous, forcing everyone to dismount in places. Progress was agonizingly slow, and it was not until the rising sun kissed the peaks of the Continental Divide that they beheld the breathtaking landscape where the Rio Grande originated, its waters forming countless mountain streams. With only a few hours of rest for both men and animals, night descended once more before they reached the mesa at the foothills on the western slope. An hour before nightfall, they stumbled upon the robbers’ first camp, a temporary halt with no indication of sleep. Criminals, often inured to hardship, were known to endure days without rest, while smugglers, well-mounted, could cover a hundred miles in a single night.
The marshal and his party continued their relentless pursuit throughout the night, the terrain gradually becoming more favorable. By morning, they had covered a considerable distance, and the trail seemed fresher, suggesting that they were gaining ground. Several ranches dotted the valley, but the robbers had skillfully avoided them, indicating that they had passed through during daylight hours. Railroad lines crisscrossed the valley, crossing at points between stations, making observation difficult, if not impossible, both day and night. Inquiries at the ranches yielded little information, hampered by the lack of accurate descriptions. The posse maintained a southwesterly course, carrying them deeper into the rugged heart of the western continent. Another day of relentless advance brought them to the undulating hills that marked the approach to the second mountain range. Physical exertion began to take its toll on the animals, forcing them to make frequent stops during the ascent.
The fatigue was particularly evident in the two younger dogs. Their paws had been cut in several places while crossing the first range. During the nights in the valley, despite their master’s vigilance, they had encountered patches of sand burrs, which, if not removed promptly, could quickly lame a dog. The poor creatures often lay down, licking their paws in anguish. Upon examination, their feet were found to be riddled with burrs. Now, as they climbed the second mountain, their lameness became increasingly apparent, diminishing their interest in the trail. The old dog, however, seemed unaffected by the arduous journey.
Upon reaching the first small park near the summit of this range, the pursuers, utterly exhausted, collapsed and succumbed to sleep, their first in over three and a half days. Banks, though the last to fall asleep and the first to awaken, made sure to tend to the dogs’ feet before resting and upon arising. Lacking any conventional liniment, he resorted to using gun lubricating oil, which provided some relief.
At daybreak, the pursuers resumed their pursuit. The plateau on the crest of this range, several miles wide in places, was covered in lush grass. The robbers’ course continued to the southwest. The pursuers followed the plateau for several miles before beginning their descent of the western slope. Before them lay an abandoned camp, where the pursued had evidently made their first proper rest. Signs of horses being picketed for hours and evidence of both men and horses having slept were clearly visible. The trail leading away from the deserted camp was disheartening, appearing at least 36 hours old. As the pursuers began their descent, they could see the San Juan River meandering westward, its waters eventually flowing into the Pacific Ocean. The descent was a relentless test of endurance, equally taxing for men and beasts. Near the foothills, they were rewarded by the discovery of a horse abandoned by the robbers due to an injury. It was a magnificent animal, but it was so lame in the shoulders, apparently due to a fall, that it could not be moved. The robbers’ trail continued along the foothills, eventually doubling back in an almost easterly direction. Ranches were occasionally visible on the mesa, but the pursued meticulously avoided them.
After spending a night in the hills, the posse prepared to start early. However, they encountered their first significant setback. The younger dogs’ paws were so badly swollen that they could no longer follow the trail. After doing everything possible to alleviate their suffering, their owner sent them to a ranch located several miles below in the valley. The party lost several hours due to this incident, but they remained determined to follow the trail, relying on the veteran dog. Late that afternoon, they encountered a shepherd who provided them with a description of the robbers.
"Yesterday morning," said the shepherd, in broken Spanish, "shortly after daybreak, four men rode into my camp and asked for breakfast. I gave them coffee, but as I had no meat, they tried to buy a lamb, which I have no right to sell. After drinking the coffee, they offered me money, which I refused. As they left, one of them rode into my flock and killed a kid. Taking it with him, he rode away with the others."
The shepherd provided a detailed description of the robbers, including their appearance, horses, and equipment. The following day, nothing of significance occurred, and the posse remained sheltered in the hills skirting the mountain range, eventually crossing into New Mexico.
Late that night, they established camp on the trail, pushing themselves to their limits in the hope of closing the distance between themselves and the robbers. The following morning, to everyone’s surprise and dismay, the old dog was unable to stand. While this was a major blow, it did not necessarily signal the end of the chase.
Having brought over 30 criminals to justice, including one who paid the ultimate price on the gallows, Banks and his dog had been an invincible team. Now, old age and physical weakness had struck the dog at a critical juncture, and the sympathy he deserved was not withheld, nor was he abandoned. As tenderly as a mother would lift a sick child, Banks gathered him in his arms and placed him on one of the posse’s horses.
The scene touched the hearts of the posse members, who remembered the dog’s unwavering courage just months before, when he had pursued a fleeing criminal. The criminal, realizing that escape was impossible, had turned to draw his weapon on the officer, who had emptied his six-shooter. Undeterred, the officer had drawn his knife, ready to engage in a deadly struggle. Faced with such unwavering determination, the criminal had immediately thrown down his weapon and pleaded for his life.
Yet, the same officer could not hold back tears as he lifted his loyal companion onto a horse. With a determined oath, he brushed aside the emotion, assuring his posse that unless the earth swallowed the robbers whole, they would not escape. A few hours after resuming the trail, a ranch came into view, and the dog was left there, with instructions given to the Good Samaritan to care for him. The posse purchased two fresh horses at the ranch, a valuable addition to their mounts.
Now, the hunt had become a contest of man against man. Maintaining the trail proved challenging even for an experienced tracker like Banks. The fact that the robbers remained in the remote areas was an advantage, but they traveled day and night, while the posse could only pursue them during daylight hours. With the fresh horses, they covered a remarkable distance.
During the day, they found a campsite where the robbers had rested for a full day. A trail made by two horses had left the camp and returned. Banks followed the trail to a rather imposing Mexican rancho, where a small store was located. There, he obtained a second description of the two men, though neither was Peg-Leg. The leader was crafty enough to avoid appearing in such a public place, his distinctive peg leg making him easily identifiable.
The two men had unsuccessfully attempted to buy horses at the rancho. The following day, the express company representative left the posse to report their progress. He was able to provide such a precise description of the robbers that the company, through its detective network, quickly identified the leader. Banks and the posse pressed on with the same unwavering determination. The trail now headed almost due east. The population of the area was primarily Mexican, and the robbers avoided even them as much as possible. However, they had purchased horses at several ranches, always paying generously but demanding the highest quality of horseflesh. They passed north of old Santa Fe town and entered a station on the railway line late at night, indulging in the gaming tables that the town tolerated. The following day, they had vanished.
At no point did the pursuers come within two days of the robbers, who traveled both night and day. At the last-mentioned point, messages were exchanged with the express company with minimal delay. Banks requested that specific points on the railway be monitored in the hope of capturing the robbers as they crossed the country, but the effort proved fruitless. Following the trail, Banks had re-crossed the continuation of the first range of mountains they had traversed to the west ten days earlier, or the morning after the robbery, 300 miles southward. The passage of this range was uneventful, and before them stretched the seemingly endless prairie to the east. Here, Banks keenly felt the loss of his dogs. The open country favored the robbers, making it a test of endurance for men and horses. The Passing Of Peg-Leg was proving elusive. As it was, he could only track them during the day. If the band maintained its course, two railway lines remained to be crossed. The same tactics were employed as before, but this vigilance and precaution proved futile, as Peg-Leg crossed them carefully between the watched locations. His familiarity with the country, gained through his illicit activities, gave him a distinct advantage.
The express company officials met Banks on one of the railroad lines. The extensive information they had gathered about the enigmatic man with the wooden leg was astonishing. Among the vast amount of data, a few items particularly interested the officer. Several of Eldridge’s hideouts, used when he was not actively engaged in criminal pursuits, were located. One of these hideouts was connected to a woman, and it was toward this location that he was heading, despite the many weary miles that separated them.
At Banks’ request, the express company brought bloodhounds. However, the dogs proved useless, and they were abandoned after only two days. The robbers were three days ahead when the trail crossed the Gulf Railway. The posse had now been on the trail for fourteen days. Banks followed them alone for one additional day, leaving his exhausted companions at a station near the line of the Panhandle of Texas. This extra day’s ride was to confirm his suspicion that the robbers were heading for one of their hideouts, specifically down between the two Canadian Rivers.
Having followed the trail until he was certain of their destination, Banks retraced his steps and rejoined his posse. The first train carried him and the posse back to the express company headquarters.
Two weeks later, a horse race of considerable importance was scheduled at a country store in the Chickasaw Nation. The countryside was abuzz with anticipation. The owners of the horses had placed substantial wagers on the race, and outsiders had bet money and livestock in significant amounts. Several strangers were present, which was not unusual for such an event.
As the race unfolded, drawing every eye, a stranger approached one of the spectators, placed a six-shooter to his ear, and informed him that he was under arrest. Another stranger did the same to another spectator. They quickly handcuffed both men. One of the spectators had a peg leg. The prisoners were escorted to a waiting rig, which transported them to a railroad line 40 miles away. One of the strangers was United States Marshal Bob Banks, who had been eagerly awaiting this meeting for the past month.
Once safely away from any potential rescue attempts by the robbers’ friends, Banks recounted the story of the chase, which had finally come to an end. He even provided Eldridge with details of his past. However, when he attempted to elicit information about the whereabouts of the other two robbers, Peg-Leg remained stubbornly silent. They were never captured, having separated before reaching Eldridge’s hideout.
Eldridge was tried in a Federal court in Colorado and convicted of train robbery. He received a sentence that far exceeded his natural lifespan. Along with the companion captured simultaneously, he was taken by a court officer to Detroit, Michigan, for confinement. When they were within an hour’s ride of the prison, his "living grave", he raised his ironed hands and, twisting a large pearl button from the blue flannel shirt he was wearing, said to the officer in charge:
"Will you please take this button back and give it, with my compliments, to that human bloodhound and tell him I’m sorry I didn’t anticipate meeting him? If I had, it would have saved you this trip with me. He might have got me, but I wouldn’t have needed a trial when he did."
Andy Adams, 1906. Compiled and edited by Kathy Alexander/Legends of America, updated March 2025. About the Author: The Passing of Peg-Leg was written by Andy Adams in 1906 and included in his book Cattle Brands: A Collection of Western Camp-Fire Stories. As it appears here, the story is not verbatim, as it has been edited for the modern reader.