"What—where?" cried the two bankers excitedly.
"Over here. Hurry."
Jake was playing his part as if he had been studying it for months and Jesse grinned approvingly.
The three had stooped to raise the body of the prostrate man when they were startled by the sudden command:
"Move an inch and you're both dead men."
The owner of the bank started to utter an exclamation, but the words froze in his mouth as looking sideways he found himself gazing along the black, menacing barrel of a heavy "Colt's."
Jesse, not wasting the time to go around into the enclosure, had leaped the counter and was down on his knees in front of the large open safe whose doors were swung wide, displaying their glittering contents to his avaricious gaze.
Gold, bills, little sacks of precious dust were swept with ruthless hand into the yawning gunny sack like meal from a miller's hopper.
Meanwhile two mounted men in front had dismounted and were busily engaged in tightening their saddle girths, apparently oblivious to anything that was going on around them.
Not a soul save those directly connected with the daring robbery had been disturbed.