In 1878 (or possibly 1880 depending the account), a stagecoach was running the long road between one California mining town and another. Inside were several bags filled with cash. The cash made the coach a tempting target for bandits, as the driver found out when he saw the barrel of a shotgun poking out from a nearby bush.
When the driver pulled the coach to a stop, a man stepped out into the road. He was well-dressed, even dapper. But on his head was a flour sack with two holes cut out for his eyes.
The man spoke quietly and politely demanded that the driver hand over the money. Once he got it, he asked the passengers if they wouldn’t mind turning out their pockets as well. With the cash in hand, the robber melted back into the hills.
Once he was gone, the coach made excellent time to the nearest town. There, a posse was raised with “the laudable intention of decorating the highest tree in the vicinity with the person of the highwayman.” Or so the Evening Star put it at the time.
