He spoke in Italian, but Bernard, who had picked up some familiar phrases, understood and interpreted.
“Really this is very disagreeable,” said Cunningham.
“I wish they understood English. I’d argy a little with them,” added the American.
“I am afraid it wouldn’t do much good, Mr. Sanderson,” said Bernard. “They would probably shoot you for an answer.”
The party looked undecided. By way of hastening a decision one of the bandits came up to the door of the carriage, and holding his pistol in one hand, held out his hat in the other.
“I suppose we must surrender at discretion,” said the young Englishman. “They won’t make much of a haul in my case.”
“Nor in mine,” added Sanderson. “I have about enough money to last me as far as Naples, where I intend to call on my banker.”
“We had better give up what we have. It won’t ruin us.”
The American, who was pugnacious and liked to argue, yielded unwillingly. He and his companions emptied their pockets, and passed the contents over to the black-bearded fellow who acted as collector. He looked at the sum and frowned fiercely as he turned to his companions and spoke a few words to them.
“What does he say?” asked Amos Sanderson.