Short stories, American; United States -- Social life and customs -- 20th century -- Fiction
But how could he hope to overcome the engineer, fireman, baggage man,
express messenger, mailmen, conductor, brakeman and passengers, to
say nothing of the Governor and his staff? How? By the way, did he
know at the time that the Governor and his staff were on board? No,
he hadn’t known that until afterward, and as for the others, well, he
just thought he could overawe them. Collins’s eyes were luminous as
Rollins said this, his face radiant. Far more than Binns, he seemed to
understand and even approve of the raw force of all this.
The manner in which Rollins came to fix on this particular train to rob
was also told. Every Thursday and Friday, or so he had been told while
he was assistant freight handler, a limited which ran West at midnight
past Dolesville carried larger shipments of money than on other nights.
This was due to week-end exchanges between Eastern and Western banks,
although he did not know that. Having decided on the train, although
not on the day, he had proceeded by degrees to secure from one distant
small town and another, and at different times so as to avoid all
chance of detection, first, a small handbag from which he had scraped
all evidence of the maker’s name; six or seven fused sticks of giant
powder such as farmers use to blow up stumps; two revolvers holding
six cartridges each, and some cartridges; and cord and cloth, out of
which he proposed to make bundles of the money if necessary. Placing
all of these in his bag, which he kept always beside him, he next
visited Dolesville, a small town nearest the spot which he had fixed on
in his mind as the place for his crime, and reconnoitering it and its
possibilities, finally arranged all his plans to a nicety.
Just at the outskirts of this hamlet, as he now told Binns and Collins,
which had been selected because of its proximity to a lone wood and
marsh, stood a large water-tank at which this express as well as nearly
all other trains stopped for water. Beyond it, about five miles, was
the wood with its marsh, where he planned to have the train stopped.
The express, as he learned, was regularly due at about one in the
morning. The nearest town beyond the wood was all of five miles away, a
mere hamlet like this one.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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