“I wish he would return,” Jack said, with an apprehensive look about the room.  ’I don’t see what is keeping him.”

“Here he comes, now!” Frank cried, “or it may be Jimmie,” he added, “blundering through the window.”

Both boys arose and hastened to the door of the room from which the sounds of approach had been heard.  The apartment was dark and still, save for the whipping of the wind at the open casement.  While the boys stood there, expecting every instant to hear the voice of one of their chums, rain began to fall, and a sharp zigzag of lightning cut across the sky.

By this natural searchlight the lads saw a figure crouching just under the window.  The illumination lasted for an instant only, and it was not possible for them to see whether the visitor was dressed in native or European costume.  His face was not in sight, and only the barest outlines of his figure were discernible.

Jack was for rushing forward on a tour of inspection, but Frank took a firm grip on his friend’s arm and held him back.  He not only prevented him springing upon the crouching figure, but drew him away from the open door-way, believing that both had been observed by the intruder.

“We ought to get him!” Jack panted, in a whisper.  “We ought to find out if he is one of our enemies or only a common thief.”

“Much good it would do to capture him!” Frank whispered back.  “We couldn’t force the truth out of him, and the things they call courts of justice here would soon be after us.”

“Then what can we do?” demanded Jack.

Frank did not reply, for footsteps, now plainly heard above the sweep of the wind and rain, were approaching the room where the boys were standing, with automatic revolvers in their hands.

“He’s got his nerve!” Jack said.  “Why doesn’t he come into the place with a brass band?  Shall we sneak out of a window, or remain here and find out what he wants?”

“I’m for getting out!”

Frank leaped from the window as he spoke, and in a second Jack came piling out on top of him.

“Gee whiz!” Frank whispered.  “Why don’t you knock a fellow over?”

“What are you trying to do?” demanded Jack.

“Not a thing,” was the reply.  “Say, but we’ll get a nice soak if we remain here.”

“You’ll get a nice soak on the coco, if you don’t stop pulling me around,” came back from Jack.

“Then keep your hands off me!” Frank responded.

But in a moment both boys knew that they were not struggling with each other.  A brilliant flash of lightning cut the sky, and by its light they saw each other lying on the ground under the window, each with a couple of men in native costume perched on top.

Jack fired, but the pressure on his back was not lessened.  Instead, he felt a snaky hand slip down his arm, seize his fingers and twist the gun away.

“Frank!” he called out.  “Frank!  Shoot at the heathens!  I missed, and one of them has my gun.”