made, had been strung two hundred and fifty miles Eastward from San
Francisco through Sacramento to Carson City, Nevada. Important official
business from Washington was therefore wired to St. Joseph, then
forwarded by pony rider to Carson City where it was again telegraphed to
Sacramento or San Francisco as the case required, thus saving twelve or
fifteen hours in transmission on the last lap of the journey. The usual
schedule for getting dispatches from the Missouri River to the Coast was
eight days, and for letters, ten days.

After the triumphant first trip, when it was fully evident that the Pony
Express[8] was a really established enterprise, the St. Joseph Free
Democrat broke into the following panegyric:

Take down your map and trace the footprints of our quadrupedantic
animal: From St. Joseph on the Missouri to San Francisco, on the Golden
Horn - two thousand miles - more than half the distance across our
boundless continent; through Kansas, through Nebraska, by Fort Kearney,
along the Platte, by Fort Laramie, past the Buttes, over the Rocky
Mountains, through the narrow passes and along the steep defiles, Utah,
Fort Bridger, Salt Lake City, he witches Brigham with his swift ponyship
- through the valleys, along the grassy slopes, into the snow, into
sand, faster than Thor's Thialfi, away they go, rider and horse - did
you see them? They are in California, leaping over its golden sands,
treading its busy streets. The courser has unrolled to us the great
American panorama, allowed us to glance at the homes of one million
people, and has put a girdle around the earth in forty minutes. Verily
the riding is like the riding of Jehu, the son of Nimshi for he rideth
furiously. Take out your watch. We are eight days from New York,
eighteen from London. The race is to the swift.