However, he knew that the man was not a Jap. The voice had disproved that. Yet, at the same time, the sound of that harsh voice had built up the fires of rage in Dave, for the simple reason that he felt sure that his captor was not a German. At least he felt pretty sure. He had the strong belief that his captor was English. The harsh voice had the Midlands twang, that is so much like the New England twang. Of course, he might be dead wrong, but—
The rest of his rambling thought flew off into oblivion as two shadows suddenly emerged out of the gloom, and he saw that one of them was Freddy Farmer, and, right behind his pal, the man in a train conductor's uniform.
"You okay, Freddy?" he asked quickly.
For an answer to his question the gun was practically shoved through his ribs, and a hand smacked him across the face.
"Silence!" Harsh Voice rasped at him "One more sound will be your last!"
"I'm all right, Dave," Freddy Farmer said, almost as an echo to the threat of violence. "I saw H-Sixty-Four drop off the train, so these blighters won't last very long."
The last caused Dave to blink hard in the darkness. For three or four seconds he wondered what in the world Freddy meant, and if his pal had received too hard a crack on the head. Then in a flash the truth came to him. And almost in the same instant it was confirmed by the one with the harsh voice.
"What's that?" the blurred figure demanded. "Who is this H-Sixty-Four?"
Dawson leaped at the opening and chuckled softly in spite of the risk.
"You'll find out, and fast, tramp!" he snapped. "Think we would have fallen for that conductor gag if we hadn't been expecting it, or something like it?"