We went over to Ohio. The first job we did there went fine, though we didn’t make enough to cover expenses for the winter, and that Ohio cold isn’t something to go camping in. So we had to go and do another job before long. That next time, the teller pulled a gun he’d hidden under the counter and I shot him in the neck. He died. I didn’t feel bad about what I did—I was angry that the fellow was going to kill me over some other fellow’s money and I cursed him for being a fool. I had no way to get behind the bars and get at the money so we just tore out of there no richer and down one bullet for our effort.
We rode all that day and straight through the next two out of that state and into Pennsylvania. We went into a small Dutch settlement there. We were tired and starving and held up a groc
