“I want what you have in the way box,” he said.
The messenger denied having anything.
“Give me your key and I will find out.”
Mooney went about the thing with deliberation. He unlocked the box, took out all packages, and put them in his loot sack. Then he left White to stand guard over the men while he took the mail clerk into the mail car to see what he could get there.
All this time I was standing at my post between the two cars looking through the glass door into the faces of the passengers. I could see the faces of the men before me clearly, for I was looking from the dark into the lamplight. Nevertheless I felt as though their eyes were fixed on me and each man had a weapon in his pocket; but no one moved toward my end of the car.
There was no suspicion of the events that were going forward a few feet beyond the door and I doubt, even if it had been known, whether any one would have taken the chance of coming out of the door.
I must have been a formidable, mysterious figure. Although the youngest, I was the largest of the three men, and with the pistol in my hand and the “spook cap,” as Mooney called it, it would have taken courage to have advanced against me.
It was the plan that when Mooney had finished with his work and had the loot in the sack ready to go he would pull the emergency air brake. This would stop the train instantly and we should all get off on the fireman’s side of the train. He had explained to us in his lecture behind the water tank that train officials always look on the engineer’s side when any trouble arises.
I do not know how it happened, but for some reason Mooney directed White to make this signal and by mistake he pulled the wrong cord.
That warned the engineer.