"What are you going to do?" eagerly asked Miller.
"I'll show you when I try the trick. It's a very smooth game, and if I'm clever enough I'll succeed. Come on to the village, and see if we can operate it. We've got to have money. If we can't get it by means of the plan in view, I'm going to lay out the first man I meet, and go through him."
The rest chuckled at this remark.
Going to the village, they found it to be a thriving place at the head of a beautiful bay on the Atlantic sea coast.
There was a bank on the main street, and when it was located, Jesse said to Frank:
"In nearly all banks there is a desk or table, for the benefit of depositors, on which are pens, ink, deposit slips, and blank checks. You go into the bank, and pocket several of the checks. There's an old hostelry down there near the bay called the Sea Spider House. We will register there, and you'll find us in the bar room."
Frank James nodded, and in a moment his compact and wiry body was going rapidly down the street.
Although Frank was a desperate, fearless ruffian, he had a pleasant face, keen gray eyes, a light mustache, and a most quiet air and unassuming manner.
No one would have suspected him of being a bandit, and as he was a fairly good talker, full of grit and coolness, and best suited for the work in hand, Jesse trusted him implicitly.
The outlaws registered at the hostelry with as much sang froid as if their pockets were lined with gold.