However, he felt mightily relieved when the escort clambered down from the train and made their way down to the brink of the river, where, stripping off their raw hide shoes and canvas gaiters they paddled about in the water.
"Don't hurry, My festive friends!" exclaimed Dacres. "Take your time, and you'll do us a favour."
It was certainly a daring move on Dacres' part, for the plain was almost without cover, and the two men were in full view of anyone on Fort Volador or Fort Banquo who happened to be using a telescope or binoculars.
Nor was it advisable to attempt to take cover. The only feasible plan was to saunter towards the train and make a sudden rush at the last twenty yards.
Presently a dull rumble announced the approach of the La Paz and Naocuanha "express."
Dacres was half afraid that the escort hearing the noise of the on-coming train would hasten back to their charge, but fortunately the South American habit of procrastination was as deeply rooted in these Valderian irregulars as it could possibly be. An hour or two made very little difference to them: "to-morrow" was their creed.
With a rattle and a roar the train crossed the bridge, passed the siding and began to slow down as it approached the terminus of Naocuanha.
The time for action had arrived.
"Take it easily," cautioned Dacres. "Keep your hands away from your pockets till we make a dash for it."
Calmly lighting cigarettes the Englishman and his companion ambled towards the engine at the rear of the goods train. The driver was leaning out of his hooded cab, with the inevitable cigar in his mouth. The fireman had descended and was leisurely awaiting the approach of the two strangers.