Both Gilbert and Ben were made to dismount and were searched with great thoroughness. But as all of their possessions had been taken from them by the Russians at the prison, nothing of value was brought to light. At this the Chunchuses grumbled loudly, and pushed the young officers roughly.
“Perhaps they threw their goods into the thickets as they rode along,” suggested one of the bandits. “If so, make them confess where.”
“Yes! yes!” came in a roar. “Make them confess! They must have carried something of value.”
“You must tell us where you have put your valuables,” said one of the bandits, and caught Gilbert by the throat, while another held Ben.
“I had nothing but what you saw,” gasped Gilbert. “Le—let me go.”
“We will not believe that. Confess!” And now several of the Chunchuses drew their swords and made movements as if to run the prisoners through.
“I have nothing, I tell you,” came from Ben. “What are you going to do—murder us in cold blood?”
“And why not? We care nothing for Americans,” returned one of the bandits with a sneer.
“We have not forgotten the attack on Pekin,” added another.
“But I——” began Gilbert, when a yell came from one of the Chunchuses in the rear of the crowd.