were pulling.

At that moment the train was rushing downhill, and the brakes were
applied to steady it. The grinding roar, and the sparks as they gripped
the wheels, attracted Jack's attention, while the tension on the cord in
his hand became instantly greater. Then there was a succession of loud
bangs and heavy jolts as the buffers of the carriages and trucks came
together. Before Jack could so much as guess at the meaning of it all,
the cord became suddenly slack, the brakes were clapped on to the wheels
of the trucks, almost throwing him over the front with the jerk they
caused, and the Johannesburg express was racing away from him into the
darkness. For five minutes the trucks followed in the wake of the
express, their pace getting every moment less. Then there was a clank
and a jar, and they swerved from the main track through a siding behind
a station, which was totally unlighted, and on beneath some overhanging
trees, and out on to the veldt once more. A couple of hundred yards
farther on a big hill loomed up directly in front of them, a large shed
appeared in sight, and within five minutes the trucks had run beneath it
and on a little way into the hill. Then the brakes bit the steel rims
harder, and the whole came to a stop.

Jack had not wasted his time meanwhile. Feeling sure that he had
accidentally got into a very dangerous corner, he crouched low upon the
cases, and the instant the trucks pulled up, jumped over the side and
darted underneath.

"Wie gaat daar?" (who goes there?) he heard someone exclaim, and a big
Boer, with an iron-grey beard, appeared, carrying a lantern.

"We are Uitlanders and have brought you a present," a voice shouted, and
then there was a loud chorus of laughter.

Jack thrust his head out from beneath the truck and looked round. As
far as he could ascertain from a hasty glance the trucks had come to a
standstill in a large vaulted stone chamber, along the sides of which
numerous guns of all sizes were packed, while behind them was a solid
wall of boxes, similar to those in the truck above his head labelled
"Sugar."

As he looked out, the four men, including Piet Maartens, who had ridden
in the van from Durban, stepped down to the ground, and it was one of
these, a short stumpy little German, whom he knew well by sight, having
seen him frequently in the streets of Johannesburg, who had made the
brilliant joke at which his comrades had laughed. Evidently he was more