They were all plucky boys--for Wharton, although less morally courageous than the others, was no coward, physically. Their stockinged feet made no sound, and the man heard nothing until Bob sprang on to his back, the force sending him down on to his face. Bob's arm was tightly round his throat; and the other two threw themselves upon him, each seizing an arm, while Wharton crammed two handkerchiefs into his mouth. The man's hands were dragged behind his back, as he lay on his face, and his wrists tied firmly together. He was rendered utterly helpless before he had recovered from the first shock of surprise. "Tie his ankles together with the other two handkerchiefs," Bob said, still lying across him. "That is right. You are sure they are tight? There, he will do, now. I must lock him in." This was done. "Now, then, let's go upstairs. "Now, fasten this last piece of string across between the banisters, six or eight steps up. "Make haste," he added, as a faint cry was heard, above. It did not take a second to fasten the string at each end; and then, grasping their sticks, the boys sprang upstairs. On gaining the landing, they heard voices proceeding from a room along a corridor and, as they crept up to it, they heard a man's voice say, angrily: "Now we ain't going to waste any more time. If you don't tell us where your money is, we will knock you and the girl on the head. "No, you can't talk, but you can point out where it is. We know that you have got it. "Very well, Bill, hit that young woman over the head with the butt of your pistol. Don't be afraid of hurting her. "Ah! I thought you would change your mind. So it is under the bed. "Look under, Dick. What is there?" "A square box," another voice said. "Well, haul it out." "Come on," Bob Repton whispered to the others; "the moment we are in, shout." Illustration: Bob and his Companions surprise the Burglars. He stood for a moment in the doorway. A man was standing, with his back to him, holding a pistol in his hand. Another, similarly armed, stood by the side of a young woman who, in a loose dressing gown, sat shrinking in an armchair, into which she had evidently been thrust. A third was in the act of crawling under the bed. An elderly man, in his nightshirt, was standing up. A gag had been thrust into his mouth; and he was tightly bound, by a cord round his waist, to one of the bedposts. Bob sprang forward, whirling his hockey stick round his head, and giving a loud shout of "Down with the villains!" the others joining, at the top of their voices. Before the man had time to turn round, Bob's stick fell, with all the boy's strength, upon his ankle; and he went down as if he had been shot, his pistol exploding as he fell. Bob raised his stick again and brought it down, with a swinging blow, on the robber's head.