The wind drives the sand. The pale sun-dried grass rustles quietly. A finger is on the trigger. A trusty Colt is in the holster, and a million dollars cash is in the bank. A dream of breaking the bank has given no rest to John as long as he remembers, but whether the circumstances or his good luck sending him to the dogs recently, have given him not the ghost of a chance. Now his time has come! With arms shouldered and fear curbed, off he goes staking his all. Wind drives the sand. The pale sun-dried grass rustles quietly. This little town, this little bank: why did the hell this visitant fall down on my head? - thought the sheriff loading the second Colt. Why does all this fall down on my head? Now this scoundrel will be charged with the law infringement, and I will endeavor that to happen!