The Calhoun chronicle. [volume] (Grantsville, W. Va.) 1883-1984, 1899-12-05


would break in moment. Grabbing
his receipt book from under the very
pen of the cashier, Yates dashed out
with the cry, Its comingw
The wind had whipped tiercely into
the northwest, and simeon of dust
was sweeping up Main street. At the
teller's window inside, Cashier Graves
and his assistant were cutting the
scaled and sewed package which held
small fortune IN paper currency,
when suddenly the front door opened,
with n rush OF wind and swirling dust.
1t closed again, and before either
the cashier or his assistant had time t.
recover u breath, two heavy, muflied
figures stood in the dusk, close to the
brass bars of the window.
Good exclaimed a cultural voice.
''Well take that" and heavy re
,,'ver was pointed directly at the head
Of Mr.. Graves.
At the very instan. that the little
guarded window darkened with the
;wo figures, Ashby Grantham had
dropped 60 the floor under the coun
ter. Instinct had guided him. His
heart was leaping against his side,
choking him, almost. The supreme
moment had come!
Here" with an awful cath from
outside, ''get move on youl' to the
cashier. "We're onto you and the
stuff! Hand it over, or by"
\ grating creak broke into the
threat; two despairiug yells went up
from the threats Of the robbers; a re.
volver shot crashed and echoed, and
down tumbled two dark forms where
the floor had given way beneath THEN
feet.
"Quick, Ashbyw and the boy felt
the butt of revolver thrust into his
hand; run TO the basement door and
fire this into the air rs you rum"
With sweep Mr.. Graves threw the
express package and the money al.
ready on the counter into the vault,
and shut the doors. The next instant
the cashier was outside the railing,
standing back from 4 yawnirg black
hole just under the teller's window,
and calling down to the basement.
"Don't stir, you scoundrels! I'll
shoot the first man who sticks his
head up"
At that moment the spiteful crack
of Ashby's revolver was arousing Main
street, and dozen citizens, including
the town marshal, came running
through the pouring rain.
'Robbers!" the boy shrieked. "Ruu
to the basement door. Hooray,"
The marshal whipped round tho
corner without word of questioning.
Five seconds later the Farmers &,
Traders Bank was full of men, most
of whom had some idea of the situa-
ton.
Standing back from the dark yawn
ing hole in the floor, Mr.. Graves
shouted to the two silent men in tho
basement.
"Hold your revolvers up, butts fore
most" he called. The basement
door is guarded and padlocked on the
outside. Give in, or we will smoke
you out"
Ten minutes later two sullon pris
oners were being led away to jail in
the rain. Both were strangers, and
both had come in on the passenger
train that brought the currency ship
lnent. incidentally, the telegraph
operator at the depot was gone-ho
was n new man who had been "picke1
up" 1t was observed that he had
stood for five minutes at the corner of
Main street, in the rain, and that when
Ashby Grantham's revolver shots were
heard, he had run diagonally across
the street to where three horses were
hitched. Mounting one of them, he
had ridden away into the storm to the
north.
But he was promptly followed, cap
turcd and his completely duly proved.
Eventually the three criminals. re-
ceived intermediate sentences to the
penitentiary, where they are at this
hour.
Ashby Granthams famous trap. door
under tho teller's window has never
been patented. But it is there still,
with triggers set. And Ashby is now
assistant cashier, owning ten shares
of stock as a present from the bank
directory. Youths Companion.