Jim Cummings | Page 2

muscular, but his face lacked both the
determination of Roe and the frank, open expression of Cummings.

After scrutinizing the forgery for a time, Roe returned it to Cummings
and said, "Jim, who has the run out on the Frisco when 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