One of the party, riding a sorrel horse with a light tail and mane, turned and took the wounded man up behind him. MR. F. WILCOX’S STATEMENT. Mr. Wilcox, the teller of the bank, stated that he, in company with Mr. Heywood and A. E. Bunker, were in the bank at about 2 o’clock, when three well dressed, powerful looking men entered by the door, which was open. They held large revolvers in their hands, and one of them cried out: “Throw up your hands, for we intend to rob the bank, and if you halloo, we will” BLOW YOUR BRAINS OUT. They then asked which was the cashier, to which Mr. Heywood replied, “He is not in.” They then sprang over the counter and demanded the safe to be opened. Addressing each in turn they said: “You are the cashier,” which each denied. Seeing Heywood seated at the cashier’s desk, one of the ruffians went up to him with his long, narrow-barrelled pistol and said: “You are the cashier; now open the safe, you —— —— son of a ——.” Mr. Heywood said: “It is a time-lock and cannot be opened now.” One of the men then went into the vault, the door being open. Heywood at once sprang forward and closed the door of the vault, shutting the robber in, when another of the men seized Heywood by the collar and dragged him away from the door and released the incarcerated robber. The man who came out of the vault—a slim, dark complexioned man, with a black moustache, then called to the others to seize the silver which was lying loose (about $15) and put it in the sack. They did not do this, but seized about twelve dollars in scrip and put it into a two bushel flour sack which they had with them. The dark complexioned man, who appeared to be the leader, then again attacked Heywood, insisting upon his opening the safe, threatening to cut his throat, if he did not, and actually drawing a big knife across his throat. The heroic and faithful teller, however, was not to be deterred from his duty, and would rather SACRIFICE HIS LIFE than betray his trust. Some few moments—it seemed ages to the bewildered and terror-stricken lookers-on—were spent in Heywood’s struggling to break from the murderous villain and gain his liberty. At length he broke away, and regaining his feet, ran toward the door crying “MURDER!” The man at once struck him with a pistol and knocked him down, and, dragging him to the safe door, commanded him to open it. But the intrepid clerk stolidly refused, when the villain shot at him, but did not hit him. Evidently the shot was intended rather to intimidate him than injure, but the scoundrel had reckoned without his host, for the effect was lost upon Heywood.