"About two o'clock in the morning we arrived, Calichio, Bernardo, Sylvester, Peppino and Cina, at the 'Third' farm. Peppino returned immediately from the 'Third' farm to Cina's house. The four of us who remained slept on straw, there being no mattresses. About three o'clock the next afternoon Cina brought us some mattresses, pillows and covers; some food-stuffs and ten quarts of wine. Cina remarked that this was a splendid place, and that no one could disturb us there. He gave the following orders:

"Calichio and I were to remain in the house and work. Uncle Vincent would watch along the railroad track to see if any strangers came near. About noontime, Uncle Vincent would come in and do the cooking; then Bernardo, armed with revolver and rifle, was to do his turn and guard the farm. He was to be helped in this by Giglio and Sylvester whenever they were about. Cina said that if Calichio or I wanted to have our mail addressed to us we must tell our folks and friends to send it to 20 Duane Street, Poughkeepsie, where Uncle Turi (the well-dressed man referred to before in this story) had opened a grocery store. Cina assured me that news would be brought to us daily from the outside and that a horse and carriage had been brought for the express purpose of going to and from Poughkeepsie and bringing groceries.

"Calichio made the press ready and we began work on the fourth batch of the two-dollar notes. There was no interruption all that day but, on the next morning, June 17th (1909), Calichio declared he wanted to leave for New York because he had had a bad dream during the night and there was news from his family.

"Bernardo accompanied Calichio to the station and I and Uncle Vincent remained alone, walking about the grounds in front of the house.

"About 11 A.M. Uncle Vincent was preparing macaroni for the noonday lunch when two well-dressed men and prosperous appearing, driving a horse and carriage, stopped in front of the house. One man was about fifty, the other about thirty. They tied the horse to a tree and came over to me, addressing me in English.

"'Are you Italian?'

"'Yes,' I replied.

"'Have you rented this farm?'

"'No.'

"'Who is the owner?'

"'A man named Giglio.'

"'Where can I see this Giglio?'

"'In New York. His wife is sick,' replied Uncle Vincent.

"'When does he return?'

"'We don't know.'

"'We had come to buy this farm and would like to look inside. Will you permit us to enter and see?'

"'No,' was Uncle Vincent's instant answer. 'We are not the proprietors and are here to guard the fruit. Return some other day when Giglio is here and he will give you permission.'

"The men assured us that they would get the permission to enter the house and drove away. When they were gone Uncle Vincent with a pale face said to me:

"'Don Antonio, I feel sure these men are detectives. Should they return there will be others with them and they will arrest us. In case we fall like mice in a trap don't say who you know. Otherwise we are all ruined. If they find the press we must insist that we found it in the house, and don't know to whom it belongs. Let us go and burn what was printed yesterday in order to avoid suspicion.'

"'I am not going back,' I answered. 'I am going through the woods to the railroad tracks to the station and then back to New York.'

"'If you go away I will not let any one come near the house. And if those two men return I will kill them.'

"'Do as you like,' I replied. So saying I took my hat and jumper and walked along the railroad tracks for about an hour until I came to the Highland station.

"I was peacefully at home in Thompson Street on June 20th when Cecala, Cina and Sylvester arrived. As soon as Cecala saw me he said:

"'You were very much afraid. You must not be so frightened. The people who came to the farm were men of a good sort and not detectives. But you did well in not letting them enter the house.'

"'Since I am away,' I replied to Cecala, 'do not talk of continuing the work. I will not return. I don't care to fall into a trap alone, and you all out of it.'

"'Better if we remain out. We can help you.'

"'Bother the help. Leave me in peace. I want to attend to my own affairs and be at rest.'

"'No. Now that we have started to print we must finish the paper that is left unprinted.'

"'I will not return to the farm. Make Calichio continue the work.'

"'You must return and complete the work,' said Cina with arrogance.

"After about five minutes of silence Cina again did the talking. He said:

"'Very well, we will not return to that farm but in order to have you content we will draw up a contract and you will appear as Luigi Cosentino, the proprietor of the second farm. Then you may return and continue the work without danger. I will telephone to-night and have the press brought to the stone house. The people nearby the stone house have seen you before, and when I tell them that the place is now yours they will not have any suspicion.'

"'I want to find work here in the city. I have worked for you for seven months and have received only forty dollars in all for it.'

"'Well,' said Cecala, 'but I will give you five hundred dollars as soon as you have finished this last job. Is that satisfactory?'

"'Surely.'

"I figured that if I got the five hundred dollars I could return to Italy and not have any more bother, and so I consented to go back and complete the work. Cecala and Cina went with me to a notary public in Elizabeth Street and a contract or lease of the second farm was drawn up. I appeared and signed as Luigi Cosentino. The person from whom I rented the farm was one whom I had never seen before. He was called Salvatore Galasso. The notary gave a copy of the paper to me and another to Galasso, and Cecala paid the charges.

"On June 24th (1909) I and Calichio began work anew on the second farm, at the stone house, and continued until we had finished $13,500 more of the two-dollar notes. When this amount was printed, Calichio went to New York and left me with Uncle Vincent, Bernardo and Giglio to cut to regular size the two-dollar notes and count them and pack them in bundles of 100 each. This work was done during the month of July.

"On the 28th or the 29th of July Cina arrived and stopped all the work, saying that operations were suspended for the summer. The last lot printed, he said, was to be divided among fifteen of us. Cecala had left about twenty days before, and as no word had been received from him it was supposed that he had been arrested. Turning to me Cina said:

"'You, Don Antonio, divide up the money for fifteen persons, and see what will come to each. Each can sell for himself or exchange them.'

"'I will not take any of them, that is certain,' I replied, 'because I have no friends to whom I can sell them. And what is more, I will risk imprisonment.'

"'That means that you will leave your portion to me, and in time I will sell it for you,' said Cina.

"'I don't want to know whether it is left to you or somebody else. Only, you will bear in mind that together with Cecala you have promised $500 with which I was to go to Italy when this work was completed.'

"'Well, if Cecala returns and brings good money, you will be given what was promised you. In the meantime, dismantle the press and give me the plates, for I must save them. Put them in a box together with the ink that was not used.'

"Without losing any time I took some boards and made a box and put into it the plates for the two-dollar notes, check letter 'C,' plate number 1110; also the five-dollar copper plates, and the second Canadian note plates, which had not been used, and some cans of ink. I nailed a cover over the box, and in the presence of Uncle Vincent, Bernardo, Giglio and Cina, I gave the box to Cina and he said:

"'We hope to open this box in November if things go well.'

"The first Canadian plates—those that had been used together with the first two-dollar note plates, Check letter 'A,' plate number 1111—were wrapped in some rags and buried in a hole on the farm by Bernardo. The hole was about two hundred feet from the house in the woods back of the house. Then all the ink that remained outside was buried in the woods back of the house; so were all the hundred thousand pieces of paper of bad prints and proofs, etc., buried there. The inks, though, were put in a macaroni box before being put into the ground.

"I dismantled the press, taking it into four parts, and packed it up in boards. At six o'clock that evening Peppino Cina came with a truck, pulled by a team of horses, and the press was loaded onto the truck; also the box with the plates put on, and the whole business was covered with hay. Then Uncle Vincent, Bernardo and Giglio were driven off toward Cina's farm by Peppino Cina. Cina and I took another road in a carriage and went to his farm.

"Arriving at Cina's farm at about 11:30 that night we sat down and ate heartily and drank wine. Towards the end of the meal Cina gave Peppino (his brother), Giglio and Bernardo each $800 of the counterfeit money, saying to them:

"'Boys, the work is done. From to-morrow on each can attend to his own business. You can take this money and exchange it yourselves.

"'If we are going to continue, and if we need you, I will advise you, paying you double what you can earn anywhere else.'

"Hearing this I said to Cina:

"'See if you can't give me some money with which I may get to New York to-morrow, without my looking around for Cecala or anybody else; and also keep it in mind that by August 15th I get the $500 so that I can go to Italy. If the money is not given me I will endeavor to get my passage to Italy and return in November.'

"'Have no doubts about the money,' said Cina. 'To-morrow I will give you five dollars. The money that has been promised you will be yours. In fact, I will bring it to your house as soon as we have it ready, as we know your address in New York.'

"Next morning Cina gave me five dollars, and drove me to the Highland station, where I boarded the eight o'clock train for New York.

"After being in the city three days I found employment in a printing shop in Brooklyn and worked there as an honest man, putting away all thoughts of evil and tried to forget what I had been through in Highland for the past nine months.

"On August 12, 1909, I read in an Italian newspaper about the arrest of some persons who passed some of the notes printed by me. Thinking that some one might mention my name, I wrote a letter to Cina, addressed to No. 20 Duane Street, Poughkeepsie, informing him that as I had not seen any one up to the present, and had not got what was promised me, I had decided to leave for Italy on August 15th.

"Then I remained in Brooklyn working, without the gang knowing my whereabouts. My employment for this period was in the printing shop of Matteo Vestuto.

"One Sunday in September I met Calichio on the street. He told me that he was going to my house to get a suit of clothes that had been sent down from the stone house with my furniture.

"'Don Peppe,' said I, 'Caterina is at home and she will give you the suit which was put away. If you see any of the Gentlemen don't say that you saw me, because I have written them that I am in Italy.'

"'I have not seen them any more,' replied Calichio. 'Neither do I want to see them, after what I have been through. Bear in mind, Don Antonio, that I have not yet received all the money that is coming to me, but ——, if they come again to me, I know what to tell them ——.' He went off in a very angry mood.

"On the 16th of November, 1909, I read in an Italian newspaper of the arrest of Giuseppe Morello, Antonio Cecala, Domenico Milone, Luciana Maddi, Giuseppe Boscarini and Leolina Vasi. They were all put under bail of from seven to fifteen thousand dollars. Three days later I read in the newspapers that all these 'gentlemen,' whom I knew, were released on bail, and were at liberty awaiting trial.

"I became frightened, thinking that these fellows might think that I had said something to the police as they knew I was dissatisfied with the treatment they had given me. Losing no time I packed my things and went to live with an American family in Dominick Street."