Jim Cummings | Page 2

you make the plant?"
"A fellow named Fotheringham, a big chap, too. I was going to lay for the other messenger, Hart, who is a small man, and could be easily handled, but he has the day run now."
"This Fotheringham will have to be a dandy if he can tell whether Barrett has written this or not, eh, Jim?"
"Aye, that he will. Let me once get in that car, and if the letter don't work, I'll give him a taste of the barker."
"No shooting, Jim, no shooting, I swear to God I'll back out if you spill a drop of blood."
Jim's eyes glittered, and he hissed between his teeth:
"You back out, Roe, and you'll see some shooting."
Roe laughed a nervous laugh, and said, as he pushed some blank letter- heads toward Cummings, "Who's goin' to back out, only I don't like the idea of shooting a man, even to get the plunder. Here's the Adam's Express letter-heads I got to-day. Try your hand on the letter."
Cummings, somewhat pacified, with careful and laborious strokes of the pen, wrote as follows:
"SPRINGFIELD, Mo., October 24th, '86.
MESSENGER, TRAIN No. 3, ST. L & ST. F. RTE:
DR. SIR: You will let the bearer, John Broson, Ride in your car to Peirce, and give him all the Instructions that you can. Yours,
J.B. Barrett, R.A."
"Hit it the first time. Look at that Roe; cast your eye on that elegant bit of literature, Weaver," and Cummings, greatly excited, paced up and down the room, whistling, and indulging in other signs of huge gratification.
"Well done, Jim, well done. Now write the other one, and we'll go and licker up."
Again Cummings picked up his facile pen, and was soon successful in writing the following letter, purporting to be from this same J. B. Barrett.
"SPRINGFIELD, Mo., Oct. 21, '86.
"JOHN BRONSON, Esq., St. Louis, Mo.
"DR. SIR: Come at once to Peirce City by train No. 3, leaving St. Louis 8:25 p.m. Inclosed find note to messenger on the train, which you can use for a pass in case you see Mr. Damsel in time. Agent at Peirce City will instruct you further.
"Respectfully, J. B. BARRETT, R. A."
Jim drew a long, deep sigh of relief as he muttered:
"Half the work is done; half the work is done."
Drawing the railroad map of the Chicago & Alton road toward him, he put the pen point on St. Louis, and slowing following the St. L. & S. F. Division, paused at Kirkwood.
"Roe, here's the place I shall tackle this messenger. It is rather close to St. Louis, but it's down grade and the train will be making fast time. She stops at Pacific--here, and we will jump the train there, strike for the river, and paddle down to the K. & S. W. You must jump on at the crossing near the limits, plug the bell cord so the damned messenger can't pull the rope on me, and I will have him foul."
Roe listened attentively to these instructions, nodding his head slowly several times to express his approval, and said:
"When will we go down?"
Jim Cummings, looking at the time-table, answered:
"This is--what date is this, Weaver?"
"October 11th."
"Two weeks from to-day will be the 25th. That is on--let's see, that is Tuesday."
"Two weeks from to-day, Roe, you will have to take the train at St. Louis; get your ticket to Kirkwood. I see by this time-table that No. 3 does stop there. When you get off, run ahead, plug the bell-cord, and I will wait till she gets up speed after leaving Kirkwood before I draw my deposit."
Thus did these three men plan a robbery that was to mulet the Adams Express Company of $100,000, baffle the renowned Pinkertons for weeks and excite universal admiration for its boldness, skill, and completeness.
The papers upon which Cummings had exercised his skill, were torn into little bits, the time-tables and maps were folded and placed in coat pockets, the lamp extinguished, and three men were soon strolling down Lake street as calmly as if they had no other object than to saunter into their favorite bar-room, and toss off a social drink or two.

CHAPTER II
.
THE SUCCESS OF THE LETTERS--THE ATTACK--THE ROBBERS--THE ESCAPE.
The Union depot at St. Louis was ablaze with lights. The long Kansas City train was standing, all made up, the engine coupled on, and almost ready to pull out. Belated passengers were rushing frantically from the ticket window to the baggage-room, and then to the train, when a man, wearing side whiskers, and carrying a small valise, parted from his companion at the entrance to the depot, and, after buying a ticket to Kirkwood, entered the smoking car. His companion, a tall, well-built man, having a smooth face, and a very erect carriage, walked with a business-like step down the platform until he reached the express car. Tossing the valise