the box back
in the rack.

There was a sudden stillness in the front of the train, and I saw
through the windows of the smoking-car quite a cloud of horsemen ride
up the permanent way and dismount; apparently the forepart of the train
had been already occupied, for we heard the sound of a by no means
unpleasant voice making in English the following request:--

"Hands up, gentlemen."

I was unused to this sort of thing, but St. Nivel apparently knew all
about it, for he sat back in his seat with a curse between his teeth.

"What does it mean?" asked Ethel and I, almost in a breath.

"It means," answered St. Nivel, "that we are going to be robbed."

"Oh, my God!" cried poor Ethel, "I hope they won't murder us!"

By the white look on St. Nivel's face, as he sat with his teeth set, I
saw that there was something in his mind which he feared for his sister
more than death.

I knew afterwards what some of these South American half-bred
freebooters were like.

The men who had ridden up by the side of the train were a queer-looking
lot.

For the most part they wore very loose garments and high-crowned hats,
somewhat of the kind worn by Guy Fawkes. Slung at the saddle of each
man was a coil of rope--a lasso. Nearly every one of them carried a
rifle.

"I shall get my revolver," I exclaimed. "I've left it in my
dressing-bag."

"Do nothing of the sort," cried St. Nivel, in alarm; "they would shoot
you instantly."

"We're being 'held up' then?" I queried.

"Yes; that's it," he answered shortly.

At once all thought of my packet went out of my mind; I thought only of
Dolores. I rose from my seat and, despite St. Nivel's remonstrance,
passed rapidly to the rear of the brilliantly lighted train. I had met
her as she came out of the dining-car, and she had told me she intended
sitting with her aunt until it was time to retire for the night at ten
o'clock. She intended to slip out, dear girl, for a few minutes before
she went to bed to say good-night to me.

Now I found both her and her aunt in a great state of alarm.

"It's nothing serious, is it, Mr. Anstruther?" asked the elder lady,
seizing my arm. "Some one here says that we are attacked by robbers."

Before I could answer, a man wearing a cowboy's high-crowned hat and a
mask across the upper part of his face, appeared at the door of the car
and gave the command--

"Hands up!"

He carried a revolver pointed upwards over his shoulder in such a
posit