“Our pockets are empty,” Mr. Wallace told the man. “You can’t get anything from a poor man.”
The Colombian soon found that the naturalist spoke the truth. But even then he was a bit suspicious. Americans or Europeans—he knew not which they were—usually were rich, carrying with them much money. And that these two had boarded the train with empty pockets was indeed surprising.
Search as he did, however, he could find no trace of any money. But he was somewhat satisfied when he took possession of Mr. Wallace’s handsome watch.
Luckily Bob had left his timepiece in the cabin of the monoplane, having forgotten it in the excitement of the day. Strange to say, this was the first day in the week that the youth had not worn it.
“Well,” said Mr. Wallace, after the man had gone, “I lost the equivalent of fifty dollars. Not a great deal. But too much to have taken from me.”
“Good thing you thought to mention hiding our pocketbooks,” Bob told him. “If you hadn’t, we’d have been in a fine mess. Away out here in a strange country with no money.”
“And of course the railroad wouldn’t have made it good,” the naturalist said disgustedly. “If I ever have another watch I suppose I’ll have to pay for it.”
Ten minutes later the train was again chugging across the barren plateau. The robber gang had vanished before a cloud of heavy dust, perhaps not any too well satisfied with its exploit.
“I didn’t know this was dangerous territory,” remarked Bob Holton a little later. “Seemed like everyone was too lazy to do anything but loaf.”