“Certainly, the bank will take good care of it and it won’t deteriorate. I’m not going to carry the box key around on my watch chain and put the receipt carefully away in my pocket. If I get snared by the bulls they won’t know I’ve got a safety box unless I snitch on myself, and if I were going to stay in this town my money would be in that box, too.”

When the bank opened next morning I rented the box and was given two keys and a password, and was told that anybody bringing a key and the password would have access to the box. “Even if it’s a Chinaman,” said the attendant.

The receipt was destroyed, and the stuff, in a neat parcel, put in the box. Sanc took the keys, planted them somewhere about the premises, and buried the password in his fertile mind.

“Go down to the depot, kid, and get three tickets to Pocatello. We’ll all stay uptown till the train is ready to pull out. No good hanging around that depot, it’s lousy with bulls.”