“BANK THIEVES GET $6,000.
“Irvington, Aug. 3.—The cashier of the First National Bank went to dinner about noon yesterday, after closing and locking the vault and doors of the building. Thieves entered the bank by a back door and secured about $6,000, mostly in specie, which had been left in trays just inside the iron railings. Two strangers wearing long dark coats and black felt hats were seen coming out of the alley about the time the money was supposed to have been stolen, and suspicion rests upon them. The sheriff is in hot pursuit, and the thieves have already been traced as far as Indian Lake. That is bad news. The Indian Lake vagabonds will give them aid and comfort as long as their money holds out, and the officers will have an all-winter’s job to run them to earth. A reward of six hundred dollars has been offered for the apprehension of the robbers.”
Rube folded the paper again and said, as he winked knowingly at Matt Coyle—
“You see that Swan and the rest of the guides have got bigger game than you to look after, an’ if they’ve got an all-winter’s job onto their hands, you’re safe, so fur as bein’ took up is concerned; I mean that they won’t go out of their way to hunt you up.”
Having finished his breakfast Rube took possession of one of the shake-downs, while Matt and his family adjourned to the open air to give him a chance to sleep.
“The Injun Lake vagabones will give ’em aid an’ comfort as long’s their money holds out,” quoted Matt, seating himself on a convenient log and knitting his shaggy brows as if he were revolving some deep problem in his mind. “That means us, I reckon; don’t you? I’d give ’em all the aid an’ comfort they wanted if I could only find ’em, I bet you. I wish we were livin’ in the woods now like we used to. We’d stand enough sight better chance of meetin’ ’em than we do here so nigh the hatchery.”
“An’ what’s the reason we ain’t livin’ in the woods, quiet and peaceable?” exclaimed Sam. “It’s all along of Joe Wayring an’ the rest of them Mt. Airy fellers who burned us outen house an’ home, so’t we’ve got to stay around the settlements whether we want to or not.”
The mention of Joe Wayring’s name seemed to set Matt Coyle beside himself with rage. He jumped to his feet and strode back and forth in front of his log, flourishing his arms in the air and uttering threats that were enough to make even a canvas canoe tremble with apprehension. Why Matt should feel so spiteful against my master I could not understand. Joe had no hand in driving him out of Mount Airy, neither did he lend the least assistance in destroying Matt’s property. The trustees and the guides were the responsible parties, but Matt did not give a thought to them. The innocent Joe was the object of his wrath, and he promised to visit all sorts of terrible punishments upon him at no very distant day.
“We’ll tie him to a tree an’ larrup him till he’ll wish him an’ his crowd had left us alone,” said Matt, in savage tones. “We’ll larn him that honest folks ain’t to be drove about like sheep jest ’cause they ain’t got no good clothes to w’ar. But six thousand dollars!” added Matt, coming back to the point from which he started. “That’s a power of money, ain’t it?”
“Six hundred you mean,” suggested Sam.