DETAINED AT CAPE TOWN
ALMOST the first discovery Colin Sinclair and Tiny Desmond made upon
setting foot ashore at Cape Town was that the next Dar-es-Salaam
boat did not sail until the following Monday week. That came as a
nasty shock, since it meant hanging about in Cape Town for ten days.
Van der Wyck did not make any further suggestion that they should go
by the overland route. He, however, recommended the lads to a quiet
and, as things went, inexpensive hotel just off Adderley Street, the
principal thoroughfare of the capital of the Federation of South
Africa.
Van der Wyck lost little time in getting his young chums settled,
and two hours later Colin and Tiny saw him off at the railway
station.
For the next four or five days the two lads passed their time
exploring in a modest way the town and its surroundings, including a
strenuous climb to the summit of Table Mountain under the guidance
of a Kaffir whose command of English was both voluble and ludicrous.
One evening, just before going to bed, the chums overheard a
conversation between two of the guests at the hotel. One was a tall
bronzed man, with large horny hands, and who was apparently an
engineer on one of the Rand mines. The other was a sergeant of the
Cape Mounted Police, spending his annual leave in Cape Town as a
bewildering change from the quiet of Nieuwveldt.
"Hullo!" exclaimed the former, pointing to a paragraph in _The Cape
Argus_. "There's been a hold-up between Kimberley and Vryburg."
The other man shrugged his shoulders.
"Thank goodness it's out of my district," he observed. "It won't
scupper my leave. Have they caught the fellows?"
"No," was the reply. "By Jove! It was a cool bit of work; three men
holding up a trainload of, for the most part, rough Afrikanders and
farmers from Rhodesia. Not many details. One passenger got a bullet
through his shoulder because he didn't take it lying down. The
robbers got away with about a couple of thousand in hard cash, and
the train was six hours late in arriving at Vryburg. Apparently the
line had to be repaired."
"H'm!" ejaculated the policeman. "And the robbers: were they mounted
or did they have a motor?"
"It doesn't say," replied the other. "Here's the paper. I've
finished with it."
Both Desmond and Sinclair would have liked to have asked questions
on the subject, but with typical British reserve they refrained. It
was not until they were alone that Tiny remarked:
"Well, it was a jolly good thing we didn't go by rail or we might be
stranded with empty pockets miles from anywhere. All the same, it
must have been a thrilling stunt."
"Wonder if Van der Wyck was in it?" said Colin. "If he were, I
shouldn't be surprised if he was the fellow who got plugged."
"Why?" asked Tiny.
"I can't explain exactly," replied his chum, "but from what I've
seen of Van der Wyck he's pretty strong and determined and not
likely to submit to being robbed without doing something."
Next morning at breakfast the subject of the train robbery was again
broached.
"I'll swear that was Jan Groute's gang," declared the Cape Mounted
policeman. "Jan's been lying low for some months, but he's the only
fellow I know who'd have the cheek to bring off a thing like that. I
was on his trail once. You remember that hold-up about two years ago
near Beaufort West when two farmers had to stand and deliver to the
tune of £500? We got hot on Jan's trail. In fact, one of our fellows
hit him at three hundred yards, but he cleared off on horseback,
although he was bleeding like a stuck pig. We found his horse, but
he was off. I fancy he boarded a goods train and slipped off during
the night."
"Does the paper give the name of the passenger who was wounded,
sir?" asked Colin.
Both men looked curiously at their youthful questioner. By the use
of the word "sir" they rightly put him down to be an English boy.
"Yes, sonny," replied the mining engineer. "A chap called Armitage,
living up Bulawayo way. Why did you ask?"
"Because we had a friend who left here for Mafeking last Friday. We
were a bit anxious, you know."
"Well, he might be a little lighter as far as his pockets are
concerned," rejoined the policemen. "Jolly sight better than a
plugged shoulder, and less painful."
"What was your chum's name?" inquired another of the guests, a man
with shifty eyes to whom Colin and Desmond had taken a dislike.
"Van der Wyck," replied Tiny.
"Christian name?"
"Hendrik," said Desmond unblushingly.
"Wonderful!" exclaimed the other. "Hendrik Van der Wyck; I know him
well. I know him well. Old chum of mine. We must celebrate this."
"Unfortunately," said Tiny coolly, "I've made a mistake--haven't I,
Colin? It's not Hendrik; it's something else. I've mixed up the
Christian names."
A general laugh went up at the shifty-eyed man's discomfiture. He
promptly got up, pushed back his chair, and beat a retreat.
"That's the stuff to give 'em!" exclaimed the mining engineer. "You
did him that time. Take my advice and give that fellow a wide berth.
We get shady customers in every walk in life, and that's one of
'em."