He watched as the truck moved away and two men, whom he had identified as security guards at the giant Phelps Dodge Mining Company, walked out of the bank.

They had delivered the cash to pay the mining company payroll the following day.

He smiled to himself, knowing the assets of the Bisbee National Bank had risen to a new level.

He had watched the people who came and went from the bank for nearly two weeks until he could identify them by sight. He had also noted the time when they came and went. Satisfied now there was no one in the bank except one teller and the owner/manager, he looked at his watch and nodded to himself.

Leisurely, the old derelict rose, stretched, and ambled across the brick street and trolley tracks to the bank, carrying the large, empty gunnysack over one shoulder.

Just as he was about to enter, a woman unexpectedly walked past. She gave him a look of loathing, stepped around him, and went inside. She was not in his plan, but he decided to deal with the matter rather than wait. He checked the street and followed her into the bank.

He closed the door. The teller was in the vault and the woman waited until he reappeared. The derelict removed a model 1902 Colt .38 caliber automatic from his boot, struck the woman on the nape of the neck with the barrel, watching with detachment as she slowly folded to the wooden floor. It happened so suddenly and silently that the owner of the bank did not see or hear anything from his office.

Then the drunken miner suddenly turned bank robber leaped sprightfully over the counter, entered the owner’s office, and put the gun barrel to his head. “Resist and you’ll be shot dead,” he said in a low but forbidding tone. “Now, call the teller into your office.”

The bald, fat, shocked bank owner looked at him with brown eyes widened with fright. Without argument, he called out, “Roy, come in here.”

“Be right there, Mr. Castle,” Roy called out from inside the vault.

“Tell him to leave the vault open,” said the bank robber quietly, with a sharp edge to his voice.

“Roy, don’t close the vault door,” Castle complied as ordered, his eyes crossing as they focused on the gun pressing against his forehead.

Roy stepped from the vault, a ledger under one arm. He couldn’t see the unconscious woman lying under the counter. Suspecting nothing, he entered Castle’s office and abruptly stiffened when he saw the robber holding a gun to his boss’s head. The robber pulled the gun barrel away from Castle’s head and motioned with the muzzle toward the vault.

“Both of you,” he said calmly, “into the vault.”