Mr. Bunker said that himself, Mr. Heywood and Mr. Wilcox were sitting at their respective desks, when they heard a heavy rush from the bank door to the counter. They turned round and saw three men climbing over the counter and with their knees on it and revolvers pointed directly at the three bank officers. A man presumed to be Jesse James, and who acted as leader, called out, “Throw up your hands, we are going to rob the bank.” James then ran across the room and passed Heywood into the vault, which was open, but seeing the safe door closed, turned back from the entrance and seizing Heywood by the collar who, from being older than the others and from the position of his desk, was naturally supposed to be the cashier, ordered him to open the safe, Mr. Heywood said it was a time lock, and it could not be opened. The other said that was a d—d lie. Charley Pitts then came up on the other side of Heywood and threatened to kill him if he did not immediately open the safe. One of the others called out, “Let’s cut his throat and be done with it.” Heywood commenced shouting murder and repeated the cry three or four times. They then hustled him about, and James struck him on the head with the butt end of his pistol, knocking him down. He was then dragged towards the vault, where he lay with his head partially in the vault. James then drew the knife across Heywood’s neck, who did not say anything, appearing to be partially insensible, when another of them stooped down and fired close to the prostrate man’s head, the ball penetrating a tin box containing papers in the vault. All this time I was on my knees on the floor, with Bob Younger standing guard over me. I had a revolver under the counter, where I stand, and which was in full view, and I endeavored gradually to edge over and obtain possession of it, but Bob saw the attempt, and seeing the weapon, put it into his pocket, saying, at the same time, that I could do nothing with this, and it was of no use. He then placed it in his pocket and commenced searching me, but did not take anything from me. The pistol was a Smith & Wesson, and we always regarded it as an excellent weapon. Bob having turned his head partially around to see what was going on in the other part of the room, I raised my head with the view of giving the alarm to any one I saw in the street, but my movements were quickly observed by Bob who pulled me down, saying at the same time, that I had better keep quiet for, if I attempted to rise again he would kill me. He then inquired where was the cashier’s till, and I pointed to a box containing some nickels and scrip, the former done up in cartridges. He seemed to know very well there was more loose money than that, and he told me he would kill me if I did not show him the till. I did not answer him, and he pulled out a drawer containing stationery, but the drawer having some $2,000 he did not open, supposing, probably, that in its contents were the same.