CHAPTER IX

ROBBERY UNDER ARMS

THE stern command, backed by the silent persuasion afforded by the sinister muzzle of an automatic pistol, was promptly obeyed. Almost simultaneously twenty mosquito curtains were drawn back and twenty pairs of hands held as high as the limited space permitted.

Even the bravest of the passengers, newly roused from sleep, felt disinclined to try conclusions with that tall, broad-shouldered man who upheld his one-sided arguments with pistol.

The presence of a second robber seemed hardly necessary, yet there was another--a short, burly, masked man, who, in addition to holding a revolver, brandished a formidable "pine-apple" bomb.

"No hanky-panky," resumed the bearded bandit. "The first man that stirs gets a dose of this in double-quick time. Any sign of a general commotion, and my chum will deal with it quite effectively. Each gentleman in turn will kindly produce his purse, so the job can be done properly. Now, sir."

Colin watched the business proceed with mixed feelings. It was exciting, very, to be in an actual "hold-up"; it would be something to write home about and to regale his former school chums at Stockmere. But it was quite another matter to have to hand over his valuables, small though they were. Of course, he thought, he would have to produce the swastika, since there was no hiding-place that would escape detection.

The thought of the swastika led to that of its giver. It seemed a strange parallel that Van der Wyck should have been held up in a very similar manner--or at least circumstances pointed to it--within ten or twelve days of the present robbery. The two places were far apart, it was true.

Sinclair's thoughts were interrupted by a guttural exclamation from one of the German passengers. Possibly he thought that the robbers were Hun malcontents, who, refusing to accept the reasonable terms laid down by their conquerors, were still maintaining some sort of guerilla warfare, and that by proclaiming the fact that he was a German would secure immunity.

"A Hun, are you?" exclaimed the robber chief vehemently. "Wonder you're not ashamed to own it. I'll go through your kit pretty thoroughly, Fritz."

Presently Colin's turn came. He and Tiny had left their bunks and were standing side by side with arms upraised. By this time they were beginning to feel the strain of keeping their limbs in a cramped position.

The bearded robber halted. Colin, though reluctantly, lowered his arms and produced his purse and pocket-book. He wanted to dash his clenched fist against the aggressive, prominent chin of the fellow. He felt certain he could have floored him, but there was the other man with the bomb to be taken into consideration. Fortunately, both for himself and the other passengers, Colin's discretion was the better part of valour.

For a moment the masked man looked Colin squarely in the eyes.

"All right," he grunted, and without another word of explanation he passed both Colin and Tiny and proceeded to plunder the next passenger.

Before the chums could realise their good luck, or even form any idea of why their belongings should have been spared, a number of shots rang out in quick succession from the fore part of the train. The hitherto continuous escape of steam from the engine gave place to a series of puffs, punctuated by more revolver shots. Outwardly unperturbed, the bearded robber proceeded with his task, not even turning his head when a third member of the gang hurriedly appeared upon the scene and announced that the driver had uncoupled the engine and was steaming away as hard as he could.

"He'll bring the volunteers down from Yelibo," added the bearer of the news. "Pity we hadn't lifted a section of the line."

"There's no hurry," replied the leader. This was a favourite sentence of his. "Get on with your job and I'll do mine."

Meanwhile others of the band were busily engaged in relieving the passengers of the remaining coaches of their money and valuables; but, with less consideration than their leader, they unceremoniously bundled each "plucked pigeon" into one compartment.

At length the "hold-up" was completed. With a firm yet courteously-couched intimation that anyone attempting to leave the train for the next half hour would be suitably dealt with (the passengers would be left in the dark as to how this would be accomplished), the bandits backed out and retired silently into the bush.

"They've gone, curse them!" ejaculated a man, breaking the prolonged silence. "Here we are, bled white and stranded. When's the engine coming back for us?"

"It would be as well if we showed a light," suggested another. "It's bad enough being plundered; we don't want to be pulverised by a stray engine in the dark."

"Why didn't we plug the leader?" inquired the gentleman with the Portuguese cast of features. "We might have shot the lot if we'd acted together."

"You're a fine one to talk about shooting," exclaimed a Rhodesian farmer hotly. "You looked like falling through your trousers."

There was a general laugh at this, for during the raid the man had been trembling like an aspen leaf.

Then in the pause that ensued, the silence was broken by Joe Londray.

"What I'd like to know," he remarked hurriedly, "is why those two weren't made to bail up."

He pointed an accusing finger at Colin and Tiny.

"It's my opinion that they're in league with the robbers," he added.