Taking advantage of this struggle between Heywood and the robbers, Bunker sprang to his feet and bounded toward the back entrance of the premises.
But before he reached the door a sharp report and the crashing of a ball showed him that he had only miraculously escaped from having his brains scattered by one of the bandits. Bounding out of the bank he ran madly down Water street, not however till another shot from the murderous revolver cranched through his shoulder.
At this point another of the band of ruffians hastily entered the bank and exclaimed:
“Clear boys, the game is up.”
The three men instantly jumped upon the counter and made tracks for the door.
But one man paused in his headlong retreat, and seeing Heywood reaching for his desk, turned round and leveling his revolver at the devoted head of the faithful teller, fired, and without a groan, the brave man fell to the floor,
HIS LIFE BLOOD STAINING THE DESK
and seat with its crimson stream.
In the street the baffled and retreating murderers sought their horses and vaulting into their saddles they were soon rushing with frantic haste out of town westward.
It was some few moments before the citizens could sufficiently recover themselves to take in thoroughly the entire situation.