When the three robbers entered the bank the employes were busy at their tasks, and had no suspicion of approaching danger. Mr. Bunker, the teller, hearing footsteps in the lobby, and supposing that some customer had entered, turned from his work to wait upon him, coming to the open space before referred to. There three revolvers were pointing at him, and he was peremptorily ordered to throw up his hands. His first impression was that one of his friends were playing a practical joke upon him. Before he had time to comprehend the situation, the three robbers had climbed over the counter, and covering him and his associates with their revolvers, commanded them to hold up their hands. “We’re going to rob this bank,” said one of the men. “Don’t any of you holler. We’ve got forty men outside.” Then, with a flourish of his revolver, he pointed to Heywood and said, “Are you the cashier?” “No,”, replied Heywood. The same question was put to Bunker and to Wilcox, each of whom made the same reply. “You are the cashier,” said the robber, turning upon Heywood, who was sitting at the cashier’s desk, and who appeared to be the oldest of the employes. “Open that safe —— quick, or I’ll blow your head off.” A second robber—Pitts—then ran to the vault and stepped inside, whereupon Heywood, who had risen to his feet, followed him and attempted to close the door. He was instantly dragged back, and the two robbers, thrusting their revolvers in his face, said, “Open that safe, now, or you haven’t but a minute to live,” accompanying their threats with oaths. “There is a time lock on,” Heywood replied, “and it cannot be opened now.” “That’s a lie!” retorted the robbers, again repeatedly demanding, with threats and profanity, that the safe be opened, and dragging Heywood roughly about the room.