Well, you all know of Brockie Jack, Dave Updycke and the rest and how they pulled the Port Neuf stage robbery near here on July 26, 1865. You all know that the USD 86,000 in gold (now estimated to be worth about USD 1.6 million) has never been found. And of course you know that Dave Updycke was hanged by the Vigilantes, Willy Whitmore was shot down in Arizona, and another one, Miller, was hung over in Colorado by a Vigilante group there.

Brockie Jack got clean away. And he was the only one of the gang who was able to tell where the gold was hidden, because Updycke just kinda glared at the Vigilantes with contempt when they ask him.

(Henry Plummer wasn't involved in this, in case you were thinking that maybe the Plummer gang was involved. This was mostly because Henry had been hanged by the Vigilantes in Bannack, Montana in 1864.)

Anyway, what isn't well known is that Brockie Jack came BACK to Pocatello in 1883. He had a bit of gold, enough to live on, and never seemed to lack enough money for a place to live, some food, a touch of whiskey now and then, and most importantly, to marry a local woman by whom he had three kids -- two twin girls and a boy.

Brockie Jack used a different name, of course, and he's buried out in Mountainview Cemetery under that alias. He worked at the Farmers' and Miners' Bank as a cashier, and then bought up the Railroad Merchandise Emporium on First Street, next to Chubb's Drug Store.

Well, one day one of the Bad Men (they never found out who) apparently came into town on a UP train and recognized Brockie Jack. He promptly shot eleven holes in Brockie and promptly left town again. Dying, Brockie called for his son and in his dying moments told the teenager exactly where out on Big Southern Butte the gold from that long-ago holdup was hidden.

The son, however, was nothing like his father. He shunned whiskey, women and tobacco and finally Went East to attend a seminary. He came back to town as a Baptist Preacher, married, and had his own family. He was well respected, and was one of those who not only helped to found the public library here, but also the hospital. When he passed away there was much mourning.

He did, however, leave the directions to the treasure in the care of his wife. She hid it in a "secret drawer" in his desk, which was eventually donated by the family to the Bannock County Historical Society.

Time passed. The robbery wasn't forgotten and neither was the gold, but it passed from truth to legend. And then, during an open house at the Historical Society's Museum, the "secret drawer" in the desk was found and so were the directions to the gold.

They were encoded. Not just encoded, but encrypted. And it wasn't one of those "A=1, B=2" things either. This was a real tough nut to crack, and nobody seemed able to do it.

They tried letter frequency counts, for instance. Didn't work, although one of the results DID yield what seemed to be a fragment of a lost play by Moliere and another a pretty danged good biscuit recipe (used for years at the Bannock Hotel, until that old landmark was torn down).