Among the Brigands

Produced by Gardner Buchanan

Among the Brigands

By Prof. James de Mille

H. M. Caldwell Company Publishers New York and Boston

Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by Lee and Shepard in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.

Among the Brigands

Contents

Chapter I.

Stranger in a strange Land.--A Citadel of Trunks.--Besieged.--Retreat in good Order.--A most tremendous Uproar.--Kicks! Thumps!--Smash of Chairs!--Crash of Tables!--A general Row!--The Cry for Help!--The Voice of David!--The Revelation of the Darkness!--The fiery Eyes!--The Unseen!--The Revelation of the Mystery.--A general Flight.

Chapter II.

How in the World did it get there?--A joyous Ride.--Hark! Hark! The Dogs-do bark! Beggars come to Town; some in Rags, some in Tags, and some in a tattered Gown!--A pleasant Meditation on a classic Past very rudely, unexpectedly, tad even savagely interrupted, and likely to terminate in a Tragedy!--Perilous Position of David and Clive.

Chapter III.

Out into the Country.--The Drive.--The glorious Land.--Sorrento and eternal Summer.--The Cave of Polyphemus.--The Cathedral--The mysterious Image.--What is it?--David Relic-hunting.--A Catastrophe.--Chased by a Virago.--The Town roused.--Besieged.--A desperate Onset--Flight--Last of the Virago.

Chapter IV.

Salerno and the sulky Driver.--Paestum and its Temples.--A great Sensation.--An unpleasant Predicament--Is the Driver a Traitor?--Is he in League--with Bandits?--Arguments about the Situation, and what each thought about it.

Chapter V.

They discuss the Situation.--They prepare to foot it--A toilsome Walk, and a happy Discovery.--The Language of Signs once more.--The Mountain Cavalcade.--Bob's Ambition.--Its results.--Bob vanishes.--Consternation of the Donkey Boy.--Consternation of the Cavalcade.--"E Perduto!".

Chapter VI.

Flight of Both--Difference between a tame Donkey and a wild Ass.--Carried off to the Mountains.--The headlong Course.--The Mountain Pass.--The Journey's End.--Ill-omened Place.--Confounded by a new Terror.--The Brigands.

Chapter VII.

The Lurking-place of the Brigands.--The captive Boy.--The hideous Household.--The horrible old Hag.--The slattern Woman.--The dirty Children.--The old Crone and the evil Eye.--Despondency of Bob. --Is Escape possible?--Night.--Imprisoned.--The Bed of Straw. --Outlook into the Night from the Prison Windows.

Chapter VIII.

The worn-out Captive.--Light Slumbers.--Fearful Wakening.--The stealthy Step.--The overmastering Horror.--The lone Boy confronted by his Enemy.--The hungry Eyes.--Is it real, or a Nightmare?--The supreme Moment.

Chapter IX.

The Cavalcade in Pursuit--Hopes and Fears.--Theories about the lost Boy.--A new Turn to Affairs.--Explanations.--On to Salerno.--Inquiries.--Baffled.--Fresh Consternation and Despondency.--The last Hope.

Chapter X.

The captive Boy and his grisly Visitant--The Hand on his Head.-Denouement.--The Brigand Family.--The old Crone.--The Robber Wife.--The Brigand Children.--A Revolution of Feeling.--The main Road.--The Carriage.--In Search of Bob.

Chapter XI.

The Return.--The tender Adieus.--Back to Salerno.--On to Castellamare.--A pleasant Scene.--An unpleasant Discovery.--David among the Missing.--Woes of Uncle Moses.--Deliberations over the Situation.--Various Theories.--The Vengeance of the Enemy.--Back to Sorrento in Search of the lost One.

Chapter XII.

The Waking of David.--A glorious Scene.--A Temptation.--David embarks upon the wide, wide Sea.--Youth at the Prow and Pleasure at the Helm.--A daring Navigator.--A baffled and confounded Navigator.--Lost! Lost! Lost!--Despair of David.--At the Mercy of Wind and Sea.--The Isle of the Brigands.--The Brigand Chief.

Chapter XIII.

David captured.--The big, bluff, burly, brusque, bearded, broad-shouldered, beetle-browed Bully of a Brigand.--A terrific Inquisition.--David's Plea for Mercy.--The hard-hearted Captor and the trembling Captive.--A direful Threat--David carried off helpless and despairing.--The Robber's Hold.

Chapter XIV.

On the Way to Sorrento again.--A mournful Ride.--A despairing Search.--A fearful Discovery.--The old Virago again.--In a Trap.--Sorrento aroused.--Besieged.--All lost--A raging Crowd.--The howling Hag.--Harried Consultation.--The last forlorn Hope.--Disguise, Flight, and Concealment.

Chapter XV.

In the Robber's Hold.--The Brigand's Bride.--Sudden, amazing, overwhelming, bewildering, tremendous, astounding, overpowering, and crashing Discovery.--The Situation.--Everybody confounded.--The Crowd at Sorrento.--The Landlord's Prayers.--The Virago calls for Vengeance.

Chapter XVI.

More Troubles for poor David.--Onset of four Women.--Seized by an old Crone and three Peasant Girls.--Fresh Horror of David.--A new Uproar in the Yard of the Inn.--Uncle Moses bent double.

Chapter XVII.

Vesuvius.--Ponies and Sticks.--Sand and Lava.--The rocky Steps.--The rolling, wrathful, Smoke-clouds.--The Volcano warns them off.--The lost Boy.--A fearful Search.--A desperate Effort.--The sulphurous Vapors.--Over die sliding Sands.

Chapter XVIII.

Pompeii, the City of the Dead.--The Monuments of the Past.--Temples, Towers, and Palaces.--Tombs and Monuments.--Theatres and Amphitheatres.--Streets and Squares.

Chapter XIX.

Lofty classical Enthusiasm of David, and painful Lack of Feeling on the Part of Frank.--David, red-hot with the Flow of the Past, is suddenly confronted with the Present.--The Present dashes cold Water upon his glowing Enthusiasm.--The Gates.--Minos, Aeacus, and Rhadamanthus.--The Culprits.

Chapter XX.

The Glories of Naples.--The Museum.--The Curiosities.--How they unroll the charred Manuscripts exhumed from Herculaneum and Pompeii.--On to Rome.--Capua.--The Tomb of Cicero.--Terracina. --The Pontine Marshes.--The Appii Forum.

Chapter XXI.

The Pontine Marshes.--A Change comes over the Party.--The foul Exhalations.--The Sleep of Death.--Dreadful Accident.--Despair of Frank.--A Breakdown.--Ingenuity of the Driver.--Resumption of the Journey.

Chapter XXII.

The March ended.--A lonely Inn.--Evil Faces.--Beetling Brows.--Sinister Glances.--Suspicions of the Party.--They put their Heads together.--Conferences of the Party.--A threatening Prospect--Barricades.--In Time of Peace prepare for War.--The Garrison arm themselves.

Chapter XXIII.

The sleepless Watch.--The mysterious Steps.--The low Whispers.--They come! They come!--The Garrison roused.--To Arms! To Arms!--The beleaguered Party.--At Bay.--The decisive Moment--The Scaling Ladders.--Onset of the Brigands.--End of Troubles.

Chapter XXIV.

A beautiful Country.--Magnificent Scenery.--The Approach to Albano.--Enthusiasm of the Boys.--Archaeology versus Appetite.--The Separation of the Boys.--The Story of the Alban Lake and the ancient subterranean.

Chapter XXV.

The lonely Path.--The sequestered Vale.--The old House.--A feudal Castle.--A baronial Windmill.--A mysterious Sound.--A terrible Discovery.--At Bay.--The wild Beast's Lair!--What is it?--A great Bore.

Chapter XXVI.

Despair of Uncle Moses.--Frank and Bob endeavor to offer Consolation.--The Search.--The Discovery at the Convent--The Guide.--The old House.--The Captives.--The Alarm given.--Flight of Uncle Moses and his Party.--Albans! to the Rescue!--The delivering Host!

Chapter XXVII.

Arma Virumque cano!--The Chase of the wild Boar!--The Prisoners at the Window.--The Alban Army.--Wild Uproar.--Three hundred and sixty-five Pocket Handkerchiefs.--Flame.--Smoking out the Monster.--A Salamander.

Chapter XXVIII.

The Salamander inaccessible to Fire.--The last Appeal--Frank takes Action.--He fires.--Casualty to Frank and Bob.--Onset of the Monster.--Flight.--Tremendous Sensation.--The Guide's Story.--Another Legend of Albano.--On to Rome.

The Young Dodge Club.

Among The Brigands.

Chapter I.

_Stranger in a strange Land.--A Citadel of Trunks.--Besieged.--Retreat in good Order.--A most tremendous Uproar.--Kicks! Thumps!--Smash of Chain!--Crash of Tables!--A general Row!--The Cry for Help!--The Voice of David!--The Revelation of the Darkness!--The fiery Eyes!--The Unseen!--The Revelation of the Mystery.--A general Fight._

Mr. Moses V. Sprole had passed the greater part of his life in his native village, and being anxious to see the world, resolved upon a tour in Europe. As he did not care to go alone, he offered to take with him his four nephews, who were great favorites with their bachelor uncle, and his chief associates. This offer met with an eager response from the boys, and a willing assent from their parents, who fully believed that a tour of this description would be of immense benefit to them. This brief explanation will serve to account for the appearance of Uncle Moses in Naples, where he landed on a mellow day in February, _en route_ for Switzerland, bowed down with the responsibility of several heavy trunks, and the still heavier responsibility of four fine lumps of boys, of whose troubles, trials, tribulations, and manifold adventures, he seemed, on the present occasion, to have a mournful presentiment.

These troubles began at once; for scarcely had they landed when they found themselves surrounded by the lazzaroni, and the air was filled with a babel of exclamations.

"_Signori!_" "_Signo!_" "_Moosoo!_" "_Meestaire!_" "_Sare!_" "_Carra ze baggage!_" "_Tek ze loggage!_" "_Show ze hotel!_" "_Hotel della Europa!_" "_Hotel dell' Inghelterra!_" "_Hotel dell' America!_" "_Eccelenza, you wanta good, naisy, rosbif, you comma longsida me!_" "_Come long!_" "_Hurrah!_" "_Bravo!_" "_O, yais._" "_Ver nais._" "_O, yais. You know me. American Meestaire!_"

All this, and ever so much more, together with scraps of French, German, Bohemian, Hungarian, Russian, and several other languages which the lazzaroni had picked up for the purpose of making themselves agreeable to foreigners. They surrounded Uncle Moses and his four boys in a dense crowd--grinning, chattering, gesticulating, dancing, pushing, jumping, and grimacing, as only Neapolitan lazzaroni can; and they tried to get hold of the luggage that lay upon the wharf.

Bagged, hatless, shirtless, blessed with but one pair of trousers per man; bearded, dirty, noisy; yet fat and good-natured withal; the lazzaroni produced a startling effect upon the newly arrived travellers.

Uncle Moses soon grew utterly bewildered by the noise and disorder. One idea, however, was prominent in his mind, and that was his luggage. He had heard of Italian brigands. At the sight of this crowd, all that he had beard on that subject came back before him. "Rinaldo Rinaldini," a charming brigand book, which had been the delight of his childhood, now stood out clear in his recollection. The lazzaroni seemed to be a crowd of bandits, filled with but one purpose, and that was to seize the luggage. The efforts of the lazzaroni to get the trunks roused him to action. Springing forward, he struck their hands away with a formidable cotton umbrella, and drew the trunks together in a pile. Three lay in a row, and one was on the top of these. The pile was a small pyramid.

"Here, boys," he cried; "you keep by me, Don't let these varmints get the trunks. Sit down on 'em, and keep 'em off."

Saying this, Uncle Moses put the two Clark boys on a trunk on one side, and the two Wilmot boys on a trunk on the other; and mounting himself upon the middle trunk, he sat down and glared defiantly at the enemy.

This action was greeted by the lazzaroni with a burst of laughter and a shout of,--

"Br-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-ra-vo!"

To which Uncle Moses and the boys made no reply. In fact, it would have been a little difficult for them to do so, as not one of them understood a word of any language spoken among men except their own. So they said nothing; but constituting themselves into a beleaguered garrison, they intrenched themselves within their citadel, and bade defiance to the foe.

The foe, on the other hand, pressed round them, bombarding the garrison with broken English, broken French, and broken German, and sometimes made an assault upon the trunks.

Time passed on, and the garrison sat there, holding their own. At length they all became aware of the fact that they were excessively hungry. It was very evident that this kind of thing could not last much longer.

Meanwhile Uncle Moses had recovered his presence of mind. He was naturally cool and self-possessed, and after mounting the trunks, and gathering the boys about him, he quickly rallied from his confusion, and looked eagerly around to find some way by which he might be extricated from his difficulty.

At last a way appeared.

Around him, in his immediate neighborhood, stood the lazzaroni, as urgent, as patient, and as aggressive as ever, with their offers of assistance. Beyond these were people passing up and down the wharf, all of whom were foreigners, and therefore inaccessible. Beyond these again was a wide space, and in the distance a busy street, with carriages driving to and fro.

Uncle Moses looked for a long time, hoping to see something like a cab. In vain. They all seemed to him to be "one-hoss shays," and what was worse, all seemed to be filled.

"Boys," said he at last, "I'm goin' to make a move. You jest sit here, and hold on to the trunks. I'll go an hunt up one of them one-hoss shays. There ain't nothin' else that I can do. Hold on now, hard and fast, till I come back."

With these words off went Uncle Moses, and the boys remained behind, waiting.

A very fine-looking set of boys they were too.

There was Frank Wilmot, about fifteen years of age, tall, stout, with fine, frank face, and crisp, curly hair.

There was Clive Wilmot, about fourteen, tall and slight, with large eyes and dark hair.

There was David Clark, about Frank's age, rather pale, with serious face, and quiet, thoughtful manner.

And there was Robert, or, as he was always called, Bob Clark--an odd-looking boy, with a bullet head, pug nose, comical face, brown eyes, and short shingled hair.

Uncle Moses was not gone long. By some wonderful means or other he had succeeded in procuring a vehicle of that kind which is universal in this city, and he now reappeared to the delighted boys, coming at a tearing pace towards them, seated in a Neapolitan caleche.

The Neapolitan caleche is a wonderful machine, quite unequalled among wheeled vehicles. The wheels are far back, the shafts are long, and horse draws it. But in the caleche it is a very common thing for any quantity of people to pile themselves. There is a seat for two, which is generally occupied by the most, worthy, perhaps; but all around them cluster others,--behind them, before them, and on each side of them,--clinging to the shafts, standing on the axle, hanging on the springs. Indeed, I have heard of babies being slung underneath, in baskets; but I don't believe that.

At any rate, Uncle Moses and his party all tumbled in triumphantly. Two trunks were put in front, one behind, and one suspended underneath. David and Clive sat behind, Frank and Uncle Moses on the seat, while Bob sat on the trunk in front, with the driver. The lazzaroni looked on with mournful faces, but still proffered their services. In patient perseverance few people can equal them.

The driver saw at once the purpose of the Americans, though they could not tell him what they wanted. So he drove them to a hotel in the Strada Toledo, where he left them, after having been paid by Uncle Moses the largest fare he had ever received in his life; for Uncle Moses gave him about five dollars, and felt grateful to him besides.

Their apartments were very nice rooms in the sixth story. The hotel was a quadrangular edifice, with a spacious court-yard. Around this court-yard ran galleries, opening into each story, and communicating with one another by stairways, which were used by all the occupants of the house.

From the gallery in the sixth story a door opened into their parlor. On the left side of this was a snug bedroom, of which Uncle Moses took possession; on the right side was another, which was appropriated by David and Clive; while the third, which was on the other side, and looked out into the street, was taken by Frank and Bob.

Thus the four boys paired off, and made themselves very comfortable..

That night they all went to bed early. Uncle Moses retired last. All slept soundly, for they were very much fatigued.

But just before daybreak, and in the dim morning twilight, Frank and Bob were suddenly roused by a most tremendous uproar in the parlor--kicks, thumps, tables upsetting, chairs breaking, and a general row going on; in the midst of which din arose the voice of David, calling frantically upon themselves and Uncle Moses.

This was certainly enough to rouse anybody.

Up jumped Frank, and rushed to the door.

Up jumped Bob, and sprang after him.

The noise outside was outrageous. What was it? Could it be robbers? No. Robbers would prefer to do their work in silence. What was it?

Slowly and cautiously Frank opened the door, and looked forth into the parlor. It was as yet quite dark, and the room into which he peered was wrapped in the shades of night. What little he could see he saw but indistinctly. Yet he saw something.

He saw a dark, shadowy figure in rapid motion backward and forward, and at every movement some article of furniture would go with a crash to the floor. Sometimes the figure seemed to be on the table, at other times it was leaping in the air. Suddenly, as he looked, the door, which opened out into the parlor, was banged back with a violent blow, and shut again. Frank was nearly knocked down.

"What is it?" asked Bob.

"I don't know," said Frank, "unless it's a madman."

"What shall we do?"

"If we were all together," said Frank, "we might make a rush at him, and secure him. I've a great mind to make a start, as it is."

"It must be a brigand!" said Bob; for his mind, like the minds of the rest of the party, was largely filled with images of Italian bandits.

"Perhaps so," said Frank; "but at any rate let's make a rush at him. Will you do it?"

"Of course," said Bob.

At this Frank carefully opened the door again, and looked forth. The noise had ceased for the time. Bob poked his head forth also. They looked eagerly into the room.

Suddenly Frank touched Bob.

"Look!" he whispered, "by the table."

Bob looked.

It was certainly a singular sight that met their view. In the midst of the gloom they could see two balls of light that seemed like eyes, though there was no form visible to which these glaring, fiery eyes might belong. And the eyes seemed to glare out of the darkness directly at them. All was still now; but the very stillness gave additional horror to that unseen being, whose dread gaze seemed to be fastened upon them.

Suddenly David's voice was heard from the next room,--

"Frank! Bob!"

"Hallo!" cried both boys.

"What shall we do? Can't you do something?"

"I'll see," cried Frank. "Bob, light the lamp."

"I haven't any matches," said Bob.

"What a pity!" said David. "Can't you wake Uncle Moses? Your room is next to his."

At this Bob went to the wall between his room and that of Uncle Moses, and began to pound with all his might. Uncle Moses did not respond, but there came a response from another quarter. It was from the thing in the parlor. Once more the fearful uproar began. Crash! went the chairs. Bang! went the tables. A rapid racket of hard footfalls succeeded, mingled with the smash of the furniture.

Frank closed the door.

"If I only had a light," said he, "I should know what to do. But what can a fellow do in the dark?"

"I wonder what's the matter with Uncle Moses."

"He? O, he would sleep through anything."

"I wonder if it is a brigand, after all," said Bob.

"I don't know. I still think it may be a madman."

"I don't like those glaring eyes."

"If I only had a fair chance, and could see," said Frank, fiercely, "I'd soon find out what is behind those glaring eyes."

Louder grew the din while they were speaking--the rattle, the bang, the smash, the general confusion of deafening sounds.

"I should like to know," said Frank, coolly, "how much longer this sort of thing is going to last."

For some time longer the boys kept the door shut, and the noise at length ceased as suddenly as it had begun. It had now grown much lighter, for in these southern countries twilight, whether in the morning or the evening, is but of short duration, and light advances or retires with a rapidity which is startling to the natives of more northern latitudes.

This increase of light gave fresh courage to Frank, who, even in the dark, and in the face of the mystery, had behaved very well; and he began to arrange a plan of action. His arrangements were soon completed. He simply drew a jackknife from his pocket, and opened it.

"Now, Bob," said he, "you follow me."

"All right," said Bob, cheerily.

Frank quietly opened the door, and looked forth, while Bob, in eager curiosity, looked out the same instant. There was now sufficient light for them to see every object in the room. A scene of wild disorder revealed itself. All the furniture was turned topsy-turvy. The door leading to the gallery was open, and there, before their eyes, standing on the sofa, was the being that had created such excitement.

One look was enough.

One cry escaped both the boys:--

"A billy goat! A miserable billy goat!" cried they.

And the next moment both of them sprang forward and seized the animal by the horns.

Then began a struggle. The goat was strong. He was also excited by the singularity of his surroundings and the suddenness of the attack. So he showed fight, and resisted desperately. Frank and Bob, however, clung most tenaciously to the horns which they had seized. Backward and forward the combatants pushed and dragged one another, with a new uproar as loud as the previous one.

In the midst of this they were interrupted by the appearance of Uncle Moses.

The door of his room opened, and that venerable personage made his appearance in a long night-gown, which reached to his heels, and wearing a long, starched night-cap, which nearly touched the ceiling.

"Wal, I never!" was his ejaculation. "What's this, boys? Why, whatever _air_ you doin' with that thar goat?"

The boys returned no answer, for they were struggling with their enemy. By this time David and Clive made their appearance, and each seized one of the goat's hind legs. This additional help decided the contest. The animal was thrown down and held there, still kicking and struggling violently.

Scarcely had they taken breath when there was another interruption. This time it was at the outside door. A burly Italian made his appearance there--very brown, very bearded, very dirty, and very unsavory. For some time he stood without saying one word, staring into the room, and fixing his eyes now on the goat as it was held down by the boys, again on the broken furniture, and finally on the long, and somewhat ghostly figure of Uncle Moses.

"_Santissima Madre!_"

This Was the exclamation that at last burst from the big, burly, brown, bearded, dirty, and unsavory Italian. At this the boys looked up, unconsciously loosening their grasp as they did so. The goat, feeling the grasp relax, made a mighty effort, and rolled over. Then he leaped to his feet. Then he made a wild bound to the door, over the prostrate forms of David and Clive. The big, burly, brown, bearded, dirty, and unsavory Italian made an effort to evade the animal's charge. He was not quick enough. Down he went, struck full in the breast, and away went the goat into the gallery, and down the stairs, and so into the outer world.

Chapter II.

_How in the World did it get there?--A joyous Ride.--Hark! Hark! The Dogs do bark! Beggars come to Town; some in Rags, some in Tags, and some in a tattered Gown!--A pleasant Meditation on a classic Past very rudely, unexpectedly, and even savagely interrupted, and likely to terminate in a Tragedy!--Perilous Position of David and Clive._

Fortunately, no bones were broken. The Italian slowly picked himself up, and casting a stupid look at the boys, moved slowly away, leaving the occupants of the standing there in their night-clothes, and earnestly discussing the question,--How in the world did the goat get there?

This was indeed a knotty question, till at length it was unravelled by Uncle Moses.

"Wal, I declar," said he, "ef I didn't go an leave the door open."

"You!" cried all.

"Yes," said he. "You see it was dreadful close an suffocatin last night; so when you went to bed, I jest left that door open to cool off. Then I went off to bed, and forgot all about it."

That was clear enough as far as it went, but still it did not account for the presence of a goat in the sixth story of a hotel. This they found out afterwards. That very day they saw flocks of goats being driven about from house to house. At other times they saw goats in their own hotel. They were hoisted up to the various stories, milked, and left to find their way down themselves. The fashion of using goat's milk was universal, and this was the simple way in which families were supplied. As to their visitor, the billy goat, he was undoubtedly the patriarch of some flock, who had wandered up stairs himself, perhaps in a fit of idle curiosity.

"If it hadn't been dark," said Frank. "If it hadn't been so abominably dark!"

"We were like Ajax," said David,--who was a bit of a pedant, and dealt largely in classical allusions,--"we were like Ajax, you know:--

'Give as but light, and let as _see_ our foes, We'll bravely fall, though Jove himself oppose.'"

"O, that's all very well," said Uncle Moses; "but who's goin to pay for all that thar furnitoor? The goat can't."

"Uncle Moses," said Bob, gravely, "there's a great deal in what you say."

Uncle Moses turned away with a look of concern in his mild face, and retreated into his room.

(It may as well be stated here, that Uncle Moses had to pay for that furniture. The landlord called up an interpreter, and they had a long and somewhat exciting interview. It ended in the landlord's recovering a sum of money which was sufficient to furnish a whole suit of apartments in another part of the house.)

Being now fairly introduced to Naples, the boys were all eager to see the place and its surroundings, and Uncle Moses was quite willing to gratify them in any way. So they hired a carriage, found a guide, named Michael Angelo, who could speak English, and, thus equipped, they set out first for Baiae.

Through the city they went, through the crowded streets; past the palaces, cathedrals, gardens; past the towers, castles, and quays; till at last there arose before them the mighty Grotto of Posilipo. Through this they drove, looking in astonishment at its vast dimensions, and also at the crowds of people who were passing through it, on foot, on horseback, and on wheels. Then they came to Pozzuoli, the place where St. Paul once landed, and which is mentioned in the New Testament under its ancient name--Puteoli.

Here they were beset by beggars. The sight of this produced strange effects upon the little party. Uncle Moses, filled with pity, lavished money upon them, in spite of the remonstrances of the guide. Clive's sensitive nature shuddered at the spectacle. Frank tried to speak a few words of Italian to them, which he had caught from Michael Angelo. David muttered something about the ancient Romans, while Bob kept humming to himself these elegant verses:--

"Hark! hark! The dogs do bark! Beggars come to town, Some in rags, some in tags, Some in a tattered gown!"

The beggars followed them as far as they could, and when they left them, reinforcements always arrived.

Thus they were beset by them at the crater of the extinct volcano of Solfatura.

They encountered them at the gateway of Cumae,

At the Grotto of the Comaean Sibyl,

At Nero's Baths,

At the Lucrine Lake,

At Baiae,

At Misenum,

In fact everywhere.

Still, they enjoyed themselves very well, and kept up their pursuit of sights until late in the day. They were then at Baiae; and here the party stopped at a little inn, where they proposed to dine. Here the beggars beset them, in fresh crowds, till Uncle Hoses was compelled to close his purse, and tear himself away from his clamorous visitants. Frank and Bob went off to see if they could find some donkeys, ponies, or horses, so as to have a ride after dinner; while David and Clive strolled off towards the country.

"Come, Clive," said David, "let Frank and Bob enjoy their jackasses. For my part, I want to get to some place where I can sit down, and see this glorious land. It's the most classic spot in all the world."

"It's the most beautiful and poetic," said Clive, who was given to sentiment.

Walking on, they came to a place which projected into the sea, and here they sat down.

"O, what a glorious sight!" exclaimed Clive. "Look at this wonderful Bay of Naples! How intensely blue the water is! How intensely blue the sky is! And look at Vesuvius opposite. What an immense amount of smoke is coming from the crater!"

"Yes," said David, clearing his throat, "this is the place that the elder Pliny sailed from at the time of the destruction of Herculaneum and Pompeii. And look all around. That little town was once the luxurious Baiae. Over yonder is Lake Lucrine, which Virgil sings about. On that side is Misenum, where the Roman navy lay. There is Caligula's Bridge. What a glorious place! Everything that we have ever read of in classic story gathers about us here. Cicero, Caesar, Horace, Virgil, Tiberius, and Juvenal, seem to live here yet. Nero and Agrippina, Caligula and Claudius,--every old Roman, good or bad. And look, Clive, that is land out there. As I live, that is Capraea! And see,--O, see, Clive,--that must be the--"

"_Datemi un carlino, signori, per l'amor di Dio. Sono povero--molto povero!_"

It was in the middle of David's rather incoherent rhapsody that these words burst upon his ears. He and Clive started to their feet, and found close behind them a half dozen of those miserable beggars. Two of them were old men, whose bleary eyes and stooping frames indicated extreme age. One was a woman on, crutches. Number Four was a thin, consumptive-looking man. Number Five and Number Six were strong-limbed fellows, with very villanous faces. It was with one universal whine that these unwelcome visitors addressed the boys.

"_Datemi un carlino, signori, per l'amor di Dio._"

David shook his head.

"_Sono miserabile_," said Number Five.

"I don't understand," said David.

"_Noi abbiam fame_," said Number Six.

"_Non capisco_," said Clive, who had learned that much Italian from Michael Angelo.

"_O, signori nobilissime!_"

"I tell you, I don't understand," cried David.

"Non capisco," repeated Clive.

"_Siamo desperati_," said Number Six, with a sinister gleam in his eyes, which neither of the boys liked.

"Come, Clive," said David, "let's go back. Dinner must be ready by this time."

And they turned to go.

But as they turned, Number Five and Number Six placed themselves in the way.

"_Date qualche cosa_," they whined; and each of them seized a boy by the arm. The boys tried to jerk their arms away, but could not.

"Let us go," cried David, "or it will be the worse for you."

The two beggars now talked in Italian without relaxing their hold. Then they tried to pull the boys away; but the boys resisted bravely, and began to shout for help. At this the other beggars came forward menacingly, and Number Five and Number Six put their arms round the boys, and their hands over their mouths. Neither David nor Clive could now utter a cry. They could scarcely breathe. They were at the mercy of these miscreants!

It was, in truth, a perilous position in which David and Clive found themselves. Those ragged rascals, the beggars, were as remorseless as they were ragged. They had the boys at their mercy. The place was sufficiently far from the town to be out of hearing; and though the road was near, yet there were no people living in the vicinity. It was, therefore, sufficiently solitary to permit of any deed of violence being done with impunity.

David and Clive gave themselves up for lost With a last frantic effort, David tore his head loose, dashed his fist into the face of beggar Number Six, who was holding him, and tried to escape.

"_Scelerate!_" cried Number Six; and he threw David to the ground, and held him down, while he caught him by the throat. But though thus overpowered, David still struggled, and it was with some difficulty that the big brute who held him was able to keep him under.

Suddenly, at this moment, when all hope seemed lost, a loud cry was heard. There was a rush of two figures upon the scene; and the next instant Number Six was torn away, and rolled over on his back. A firm grasp was fixed on his throat, and a tremendous blow descended on his head from a stout stick, which was wielded by the youthful but sinewy arm of Frank Wilmot. At the same instant, also, Bob Clark had bounded at Number Five, leaped on his back, and began beating him about the head.

The attack had been so sudden, and so utterly unexpected, that it carried all before it. Away, with a wild cry of terror, fled the four decrepit beggars, leaving Number Five and Number Six on the field to themselves and the four boys. Number Six groaned with pain, and struggled furiously. He wrenched himself from beneath his assailants, but they again got the upper hand, and held on firmly. But Number Six was too strong to be easily grappled with, and it went hard with his assailants.

Meanwhile Clive, relieved by Bob, had become an assailant also. Snatching up a stone, he dashed it full in the face of Number Five. The man staggered back and fell, and Bob narrowly escaped falling under him. But Number Five sprang up instantly, and before Bob or Clive could close with him again, darted off without attempting to help Number Six, and ran for his life. Cowardly by nature, the beggars did not think of the size of their assailants; their fears magnified the boys to men; and they only thought of safety in a panic flight But Number Six was there yet, with Frank Wilmot's sinewy arms about him, and Bob and Clive now rushed to take part in that struggle. This addition to the attacking force turned the scale completely.

The struggle that now followed was most violent, the Italian making the most furious efforts to free himself; but Frank was very large and strong for his years; he was possessed of bull-dog tenacity and high-strung courage, and was strenuously assisted by the other three; so that the union of all their forces formed something to which one man was scarcely equal. In a very short time, therefore, after the arrival of Bob and Clive, the would-be robber was lying on his face, held firmly down by the four boys.

"Boys," said Frank, who was sitting on his shoulders, "fold his arms over his back."

As they did this, he twisted his handkerchief tightly, and then bound it around the man's hands as firmly as if it had been a rope. Bob and Clive held him down by sitting on his legs, while David sat on his neck. Frank now asked for their hand, kerchiefs, twisted them, tied them together, and then directed Bob to fasten the man's feet. This was Bob's task, and he did it as neatly as though he had been brought up to that particular business exclusively.

The man was now bound hard and fast, and lay on his face without a word, and only an occasional struggle. The weight of the boys was so disposed that it was not possible for him to get rid of them, and Frank watched all his attempted movements so vigilantly, that every effort was baffled at the outset. Frank also watched Bob as he tied the knots, and then, seeing that the work was well done, he started up.

"Come, boys," said he, "let's give the rascal a chance to breathe."

At this the boys all got up, and the Italian, relieved from their weight, rolled over on his back, and then on his side, staring all around, and making desperate efforts to free himself. He was like the immortal Gulliver when bound by the Lilliputians, except that one of his assailants, at least, was no Lilliputian, for in brawn, and sinew, and solid muscle, Frank, boy though he might be, was not very much, if at all, his inferior. As he struggled, and stared, and rolled about, the boys looked on; and Frank watched him carefully, ready to spring at him at the first sign of the bonds giving way. But the knots had been too carefully tied, and this the Italian soon found out. He therefore ceased his useless efforts, and sat up; then, drawing up his feet, he leaned his chin on his knees, and stared sulkily at the ground.

"And now," said David, "what are we to do?"

"I don't know," said Frank.

"Let's go for Uncle Moses," said Bob, "or Michael Angelo."

"We'd better hunt up a policeman," said Clive.

"No," said Frank, "let's get Uncle Moses here first. You go, Bob; and be quick, or else those other beggars'll be back here and release him."

Upon this Bob set out, and the others guarded the prisoner. Bob was not gone long, however, but soon returned in company with Uncle Moses. Bob had found him at the inn, and in a breathless way had told him all, but he had scarcely understood it; and as he now came upon the scene, he looked around in wonder, and seemed utterly bewildered. Had he found his beloved boys captured by bandits, he would have been shocked, but not very much surprised--for that was the one terror of his life; but to find the tables turned, and a bandit captured by his boys, was a thing which was so completely opposed to all his ordinary thoughts, that he stood for a moment fairly stupefied. Nor was it until David had told the whole story, and thus given him a second and Davidian edition of it, that he began to master the situation.

"Dear! dear! dear!" he cried, looking slowly at each of the boys in succession, and then at their silent and sulky captive, "and so you railly and truly were attacked and made prisoners by bandits. Dear! dear! dear!"

He looked inexpressibly shocked, and for some time stood in silence amid the loud clatter of the boys.

"Well, Uncle Moses," said Frank, at last, "what are we to do with him?"

To this Uncle Moses made no reply. It was certainly a somewhat puzzling inquiry; and his own life had been so peaceful and uneventful, that the question of the best way of dealing with a captured bandit was, very naturally, a somewhat perplexing one to answer. He stood, therefore, with his head bent forward, his right hand supporting his left elbow, and his left hand supporting his forehead, while his mild eyes regarded the captive robber with a meek and almost paternal glance, and his mind occupied itself in weighing that captives destiny.

"Well, Uncle Moses," said Frank a second time, somewhat impatiently, "what, are we to do with him? We must do something,--and be quick about it too,--or else the other beggars'll be back."

"Wal," said Uncle Moses, slowly and thoughtfully, "that's the very identical pint that I'm a meditatin on. An the long an the short of it is, that I'm beginnin to think, that the very best thing you can do is to take your handkerchees back, and come back with me to the inn, and get some dinner. For I've every reason to believe that dinner's ready about this time, bein as I remember hearin a bell a ringin jest before Bob came for me."

At this the boys stared in amazement at Uncle Moses, not knowing what in the world to make of this.

"What do you mean," said Frank, "about our handkerchiefs, when we've tied up the bandit with them?"

"Why," said Uncle Moses, "I think if you come you may as well bring yer handkerchees with you--as I s'pose you prefer havin em."

"But we'd have to untie them," said Bob.

"Wal, yes," said Uncle Moses, dryly; "that follers as a nat'ral consequence."

"What!" cried Frank, in an indignant voice, "untie him? Let him go? And after he has nearly killed David and Clive?"

"Wal, he didn't _quite_ kill em," said Uncle Moses, turning his eyes benignantly upon the two boys. "They seem to me jest now to be oncommon spry--arter it all. They don't look very nigh death, as far as appearances go. No harm's done, I guess; an so, I dare say, we'd best jest let em go."

At this Frank looked ineffably disgusted.

"You see, boys," said Uncle Moses, "here we air, in a very peculiar situation. What air we? Strangers and sojourners in a strange land; don't know a word of the outlandish lingo; surrounded by beggars and Philistines. Air there any law courts here? Air there any lawyers? Air there any judges? I pause for a reply. There ain't one. No. An if we keep this man tied up, what can we do with him? We can't take him back with us in the coach. We can't keep him and feed him at the hotel like a pet animule. I don't know whar the lock-up is, an hain't seen a policeman in the whole place. Besides, if we do hand this bandit over to the _po_lice, do you think it's goin to end there? No, sir. Not it. If this man's arrested, we'll be arrested too. We'll have to be witnesses agin him. An that's what I don't want to do, if I can help it. My idee an aim allus is to keep clear of the lawyers; I'd rather be imposed on; I'd rather pay out money unjustly, be cheated, humbugged, and do any thin, than put myself in the power of lawyers. Depend upon it, they're as bad here as they air home. They'd have us all in jail, as witnesses. Now, I don't want to go to jail."

The words of Uncle Moses produced a strong impression upon the boys. Even Frank saw that handing the man over to the authorities would involve some trouble, at least, on their part. He hated what he called "bother." Besides, he had no vengeful feelings against the Italian, nor had Bob. As for David and Clive, they were the only ones who had been really wronged by the fellow; but they were the last in the world to harbor resentment or think of revenge. Their victory had also made them merciful. So the end of it was, that they did according to Uncle Moses' suggestion, and untied the bonds.

Number Six was evidently amazed. He rose to his feet, looked warily at the party, as though expecting some new attack, then looked all around, and then, with a bound, he sprang away, and running towards the road, soon disappeared. The rest did not delay much longer, but returned as soon as possible to the inn, where they found their dinner ready. This they ate, and then drove back to Naples.

The opportune arrival of Frank and Bob was soon explained. They had been riding on donkeys, and had seen the crowd around David and Clive, and the struggle. Fearing some danger for their companions, they had hastened to the spot, and reached it in time to be of service. The adventure might have been most serious to David and Clive; but as it happened, the results were of no very grave character. They felt a little sore; that is all. Bob, also had a bad bruise on his left arm; but on the whole, very little harm had been done, nor did the boys regret afterwards that they had let the scoundrel go free.

As for their guide, Michael Angelo, he had been busy in another direction, during this adventure, and when he heard of it, he was very anxious to have them arrested; but Uncle Moses, for reasons already stated, declined to do anything.

Chapter III.

_Out into the Country.--The Drive.--The glorious Land.--Sorrento and eternal Summer.--The Cave of Polyphemus.--The Cathedral.--The mysterious Image.--What is it?--David Relic-hunting.--A Catastrophe. --Chased by a Virago.--The Town roused.--Besieged.--A desperate Onset.--Plight.--Last of the Virago._

A few days after the affair related in the last chapter, our party set out from Naples on an excursion round the environs. With the assistance of their landlord they were able to get a carriage, which they hired for the excursion, the driver of which went with them, and was to pay all their expenses for a certain given sum. They expected to be gone several days, and to visit many places of surpassing interest; for Naples is a city whose charms, great as they are, do not surpass the manifold loveliness with which it is environed, and the whole party would have been sorry indeed if they had missed any one of those scenes of enchantment that lay so invitingly near them.

As they drove along the shore they were all in the highest spirits. The sky was cloudless, and of that deep blue color which is common to this climate; and the sun shone with dazzling brightness, being only warm enough to be pleasant, and not in any way oppressive. For many miles the way seemed nothing else than a street. Houses arose on each side; crowds of people, and multitudes of wagons, and droves of cattle constantly met their eyes. Caleches dashed about in all directions. The street itself was paved with the large lava blocks which prevail throughout the city; and in fact it seemed as though Naples was prolonging itself indefinitely.

At length they emerged from the close-built city, and entered the country. All the way the scenery was exquisite. On the left extended green fields, and orchards, and vineyards; spreading away for miles, they rose up the sides of high mountains. Upon these were small villas and hamlets, while occasionally a castle perched upon some inaccessible height threw an air of romantic attraction about the scene. They passed several villages, and at length reached Castellamare, a town on the shore of the bay. Passing beyond this, they found a change in the scenery. The road wound along cliffs which overhung the sea, and was ornamented by trees. The road itself was a magnificent one, as smooth as a floor, and by its circuitous course afforded a perpetual variety. The far white houses of Naples, the towers that dotted the shore on every side, the islands that rose from oat the waters, the glorious bay, the gloomy form of Vesuvius, with its smoke clouds overhanging, all united to form a scene which called forth the most unbounded admiration. Besides all these general features there were others of a more special character, as from time to time they came to some recess in the shore; and the road running in brought them to some little hamlet, which, nestling here, seemed the abode of peace, and innocence, and happiness. Through such variations of scenery they passed, and at length arrived at Sorrento.

This little town is most beautifully situated near the month of the Bay of Naples, and around it arise high, encircling hills which protect it from the cold blasts of winter and the hot winds of summer. Sorrento has a perfect climate, All the seasons are blended together here, and in the orange groves, that surround the town, there may be seen at the same time the strange spectacle of trees in blossom side by side with trees that are loaded with fruit fully ripe.

It was evening when they arrived, and they had not much time to spare; so they at once procured a guide from the hotel, and set forth to see what they could before dark. First, the guide took them to a deep chasm, which was so wild and abrupt, so deep and gloomy, that it looked like the work of a recent earthquake. Not far from this were some ancient reservoirs, the work of the times of imperial Rome. The arches were yet perfect, and over the reservoir was a garden of orange trees. Not far distant was a ruined temple, in the enclosure of which was a myrtle plant, five hundred years old, and so large that it formed a respectable tree.

After showing them these things and several others, the guide took them to the sea-shore, to a place which goes by the name of the Cave of Polyphemus. This is a large cavern in the cliff, in front of which is a huge fragment of rock. Here the boys recalled the story of Ulysses; and David volunteered to give it in full to Uncle Moses. So David told how Ulysses ventured to this place with his companions; how the one-eyed Cyclops caught them; how he imprisoned them in the cabin, shutting up its mouth by means of a huge rock, which David thought might have been that very fragment that now lay on the shore before their eyes; how the monster began to devour them; how Ulysses devised a plan of escape, and succeeded in putting out the eye of the monster; how he then effected his escape from the cave, and regaining his vessel, put forth to sea.

Then they went to visit the house in which Tasso was born. They were not able to enter it, and as it was now dark, they retreated to their hotel.

Oh the following morning they all set oat without the guide, to see the town for themselves. A festival of some kind was going on, which attracted many people, and the cathedral was filled. The boys, haying nothing else to do, wandered away towards the common centre of attraction. They soon lost one another in the crowd, and one by one they worked their way into the interior of the place. The organ was sounding forth, the priests were intoning service, on the altar candles were burning, and far on high, through the lofty vaulted nave, there rolled "the smoke of incense and the wail of song!"

David found himself a little distance away from a side chapel, which was evidently the chief attraction to the worshippers within the sacred edifice. A dense crowd assembled about it, and in front of it. Through these David managed to make his way, full of curiosity about the cause of their interest. He at length forced himself far enough forward to see inside the chapel. He saw a structure, in the centre of the chapel, covered with drapery, upon which was a cushion. Lying on this cushion was the image of a child, clothed in rich attire, and spangled with jewels, and adorned with gold and silver. Whether it was made of wood or wax he could not tell, but thought it was the former. The sight of it only tempted his curiosity the more, and he longed to look at it more closely. It was evidently considered by the surrounding crowd to be an object of great sanctity, for they regarded it with the utmost reverence, and those nearest were on their knees. Upon the altar, at the end of this chapel, lights were burning, and a priest was engaged in religious ceremonies.

David's desire to go closer was so strong, that he waited patiently in this one spot for the opportunity of gratifying his curiosity. He had to wait for a long time; but at length he had the satisfaction of seeing a movement among the people, which showed that they were on the point of dispersing. After this the crowd lessened, and the people began to take their departure. At length but a few remained, some of whom were still on their knees around the image.

David now, in a slow and unassuming manner, advanced towards the image. He could go close to it, and was able to see it perfectly. An iron rail surrounded the structure on which it was laid, preventing too close an approach; but standing here, outside of the rail, David saw that the image was very rudely carved out of wood, and was intended to represent a child. Why such an image should be the object of such interest and devotion he could not for the life of him imagine. He could only postpone any investigation into this until he could find out from some one.

And now there came over him an overwhelming desire to obtain a fragment from some portion of this image, or, its dress, or its surroundings, to serve as a relic. His relic-hunting propensities had never been stronger than they were at this moment, and no sooner did the idea suggest itself than he looked all around to see what were the chances.

As he looked around he saw that the cathedral was nearly empty: a priest was near the high altar, two boys were in the middle of the nave, by the chief entrance was a little group just preparing to leave. Nearer him, and close by the image, were two women. They were on their knees, and appeared to be absorbed in their devotions. It seemed to David that it would be quite easy to possess himself of some small and unimportant portion of the drapery. He was quite unobserved, for the two women who were nearest were not regarding him, the drapery was within easy reach, and a row of tassels, upon which he could lay his hand, offered an irresistible temptation. If he could but get one of those tassels, what an addition it would be to his little stock of treasures!

David once more looked all around. The priests were still at the altar; but the boys had gone from the nave, and those who had been near the door had departed. The women seemed as intent as ever upon their devotions. David looked at the drapery once more, and upon one of the tassels which was nearest him.

Once more he looked all around, and then, stretching forward his hand, he touched the coveted tassel.

Then he drew back his hand, and putting it in his pocket, he drew forth his knife, which he opened.

Then he looked around once more.

Then, for the last time, he put his hand forward, holding the knife so as to cut the tassel. But the cord which bound the tassel to the drapery was strong, and the knife was very dull, and David found that it was not so easy as he had supposed. But he was determined to get it, and so he sawed away, with his dull old knife, at the cord, severing one by one the filaments that composed it, but doing this so slowly that he began to grow impatient. The women were not looking. There was no danger. To work with one hand was useless, and so he reached forth both hands, and began sawing away more vigorously than ever. But his impatience, and his vehement pulls and tugs, produced an effect which he had not expected. The heavy drapery, which had been loosely thrown over, began to slide off towards him as he pulled. David did not notice this, but continued his work, looking around to see whether the women were noticing him or not. At length he had sawed the cord almost through, and gave a quick pull at it to break it.

The next moment the heavy drapery came sliding down towards him, and, to his horror, the wooden image came with it, falling with a crash on the marble pavement.

In an instant the two women started to their feet, staring with wild eyes at the image and the drapery. Then their wild eyes caught sight of David, whose frightened face would have revealed him as the guilty cause of this catastrophe, even if it had not been shown by the tassel and the knife, which were in his hands.

With a sharp, shrill scream, one of the women sprang towards him. David instinctively leaped back, and eluded her. The woman chased. David dodged her around a pillar.

The woman followed.

David dodged behind another pillar.

The woman cried out, "_O Scellerato! Birbone! Furbo! Ladrone!_" And though David's knowledge of the Italian language was but slight, yet it sufficed to show him that these names which she yelled after him had a very direful signification.

Thus David fled, dodging, the woman behind pillar after pillar, until at length he came near to the door. Had the other woman taken part in the chase, David would certainly have been captured. But the other woman did not. She stood as if petrified--motionless and mute, staring at the fallen sanctuary, and overwhelmed with horror. So the flight went on, until at length, reaching the door, David made a rush for it, dashed through, and ran as fast as his legs could carry him. The woman followed, but at a slower rate of speed, and saw him go into the hotel. Then she returned to the church, after which she went abroad with the story of the horrible desecration through all Sorrento.

On reaching the hotel, David found the rest of the party there, at dinner. He said nothing of his recent adventure, but took his seat at the table.

Before long, the party became conscious of a great tumult and uproar in the street in front of the house. Frank and Bob went to the windows, and looked out. A sudden exclamation of surprise brought Clive and Uncle Moses to their side. David followed slowly, with a strange feeling of apprehension, and with the recollection of his late flight still strong in his mind.

He looked out.

A great crowd presented itself to his horrified eyes--a crowd representing all Sorrento; old, the middle-aged, the young; the rich, poor; male and female; old men, old women, boys, and children. At the head of this, and immediately in front of the door, was the very old woman who bad discovered his sacrilege, and had chased him through the cathedral. Now he had hoped that the old woman had forgotten him; but her appearance now was tenfold more terrible than ever. Here she was--a virago--with a great following, whom she was exciting by violent harangues, and urging by wild gesticulations, to do something or other which David could not understand, but which he could well imagine to be something that had reference to his own humble, unworthy, and very much terrified self.

Before they had fairly grasped the whole of the scene that was thus so suddenly presented, they were accosted by the landlord and the driver, who entered the room hurriedly, and in some excitement, in search of them.

"One grand meesfortune haf arrive," said the landlord. "De people declare you haf insult de Bambino. Dey cry for vengeance. How is dis?"

"What?" asked Frank; "insult what?"

"De Bambino."

"Bambino?"

"Yes. It is de consecrate image--de Bambino--does miracles, makes cures; wonderful image, de pride of Sorrento; an dis is de day sacred to him. What is dis meesfortune dat I hear of? It is one grand calamity--for you--eef you do not take care."

"Bambino? insult?" said Frank. "We haven't insulted anything whatever. They're crazy."

Here David, finding concealment useless, confessed all. The boys listened in astonishment The landlord shook his head with an expression of concern and perplexity.

Then he had a long conversation with the driver.

Then they both left the room. The landlord went outside, and tried to appease the crowd. He might possibly, have succeeded, had it not been for David's old woman, who shook her fists in his face, stamped, appealed to Heaven, raved, and howled, all the time he was speaking. The consequence was, that the landlord's words had no effect.

He then entered the hotel once more, and after seeing the driver, and speaking a few words, he hurried up to our party, who by this time were in a state of general alarm.

"You must run--fly--leaf Sorrento--now--widout delay," he cried, breathlessly. "I haf order de carriage. I sall tell de people dat you sall be arrest, an pacify dem for a few moments, till you get start."

The landlord once more left them, and going out to the crowd, he made a few remarks, to the effect that the hotel was being searched now for the offender against the Bambino, and when he was found he would at once be handed over to the authorities. He urged them to wait patiently, and they should see that justice would be done.

The crowd now grew calmer, and waited. The landlord then went back, and led the party down to the court-yard. Here the carriage was all in readiness, and the driver was waiting. They all got in at once, unseen by the crowd in the street; and then, cracking his whip, the driver urged the horses off at full speed through the gates. The crowd fell back on either side, so as to make away, and were not in a position to offer any obstacles to so sudden an onset. They also had the idea that the culprit was inside the hotel, in the hands of the authorities.

But the old woman was not to be deceived; she saw it all in a moment, and in a moment she raised the alarm. Having, howling, gesticulating wildly, dancing, and jumping, she sprang after the carriage. The crowd followed. But the carriage had already got a good start; it had burst through the people, and those who stood in the way were only too glad to get out of it, and thus, with the horses at full speed, they dashed up the street; and before long they had left Sorrento, and the hotel, and the insulted Bambino, and the excited crowd, and the raving old beldam far behind.

David's adventure in Sorrento had been a peculiar one, and one, too, which was not without danger; but if there was any satisfaction to be got out of it, it was in the fact that the tassel which he had acquired, remained still in his possession, to be added to his little stock of relics.

Chapter IV.

_Salerno and the sulky Driver.--Paestum and its Temples.--A great Sensation.--An unpleasant Predicament.--Is the Driver a Traitor?--Is he in League with Bandits?--Arguments about the Situation, and what each thought about it._

After a very pleasant drive through a country as beautiful as it had been ever since they left Naples, the party reached Salerno, where they passed the night. Salerno is a lovely place, situated at the extremity of a bay, like Naples, of which it may be called a miniature. It is protected from the wind by the high hills that encircle it, and its delicious climate makes it a great resort for invalids. But formerly Salerno had a different character, and one far more prominent in the eyes of the world. Salerno has a history full of events of the most varied and stirring character. Fought for by Greek, and Roman, and German, and Saracen, and Norman, its streets have witnessed the march of hundreds of warlike arrays, and it has known every extreme of good or evil fortune. Two things make. Salerno full of interest to the traveller who loves the past. One is, its position as a seat of learning daring the middle ages. Here once arose the greatest school of medicine in, the world, the chairs of which were thrown open, to Jewish and Arabian professors, who at that time far outstripped the students of the Christian world in scientific attainments. The other thing is, that here the great pope, Gregory VII., found refuge, after his long struggle, and, flying from Rome, obtained rest here among the friendly Normans, for it was in Salerno that he uttered those memorable dying words of his: "I have loved righteousness, and hated iniquity, and therefore I die in exile."

Here at Salerno they had a slight misunderstanding with their driver. He insisted on getting more pay. As they had already made a full contract with him, this demand seemed like an imposition, and was rejected by the whole of them. The driver grew furiously excited, gesticulated vehemently, stamped, his feet, rolled his eyes, struck his fists together, and uttered language which sounded like Italian oaths, though they could not make it out. Uncle Moses seemed a little appalled at his vehement, and was inclined to yield to his demands for the sake of peace; but the boys would not listen to this for a moment. After watching the raging Italian till they were tired, Frank at length started to his feet, and in a peremptory tone ordered him out of the room. The Italian was so unprepared for this decisive conduct on the part of one who appeared to be but a boy, that he stopped short in the midst of a most eloquent tirade against them, in which he was threatening to denounce them to the authorities for sacrilege; and having stopped, he stared at Frank, and seemed unable to go on once more. Frank now repeated his orders, accompanying them with a threat that he would call in the police. At this the driver's brow lowered into a sullen scowl, and muttering some expressions of rage and vengeance, he left the room.

The boys chatted a little about the mutiny of the driver, as they called it, but soon dismissed the thought from their minds.

After passing the night at Salerno, they prepared, on the following morning, to continue their journey. Early in the day, the driver made his appearance. He was quiet, and not communicative, and much changed from his former self. Frank addressed a few remarks to him, but perceiving that he was sulky, he gave up all attempts to appease his wrath. In fact, he began to think that it might, perhaps, have been as well to comply with his request, for the request for more money had been based upon his recent rescue of them from the hands of the mob at Sorrento. Had the driver made his request a little more meekly, and not presented it with such an assertion of right, there is no doubt that they would have cheerfully given what he asked. But his tone excited their resentment; and afterwards, when the driver chose to lose his temper and scold them, they were more determined than ever to refuse. Had he appeared at this time with his former good-natured expression, and had he shown any signs of compunction for his insolent behavior, there is no doubt that they would have brought up the subject of their own accord, and promised him as handsome a sum as his exploit deserved. But his continued sulks prevented them from introducing the subject, and so they concluded to defer it to some other time, when he might be restored to himself.

They now drove along the road en route for Paestum. At first they drove along the sea-shore, but after a few miles the road turned off into the country. All around them were fields, which were covered with flocks and herds, while in the distance were hills that were clothed with vineyards and olive groves, that adorned their sloping declivities with mantles of dark green and light. In the country, on either side, they also saw some indications of Italian life, which excited strong feelings of repugnance within them; for here and there, in many places, women were toiling in the fields just as the men, with heavy hoes, or with ploughs, or with harrows. In some places it was even worse, for they saw women laboring in the fields, while the men lolled on the fences, or sat smoking under the shade of some tree. The implements of labor used excited their surprise. The hoes were as ponderous, as clumsy, and as heavy as pickaxes; the ploughs were miserably awkward things--a straight pole with a straight wooden share, which was sometimes, though by no means always, pointed with iron. These ploughs were worked in various ways, being sometimes pulled by donkeys, sometimes by oxen, and on one memorable occasion a donkey and a woman pulled the plough, while a man, who may have been the woman's husband, guided it through the furrow.

The road was a good one, and was at first well travelled. They met soldiers, and priests, and peasants. They met droves of oxen, and wine carts, and large herds of those peculiar hairless pigs which are common to this country. As they drove on farther, the travel diminished, and at length the country seemed more lonely. It was still fertile, and covered with luxuriant vegetation on every side; but the signs of human habitation decreased, until at length they ceased. The reason of this lies in the unhealthy character of the country, which, like many places in Italy, is subject to malaria, and is shunned by the people. This is the nature of the country which lies around ancient Paestum; and though the fields are cultivated, yet the cultivators live at a distance upon the slopes of the mountains.

At about midday they arrived at Paestum. Here they descended from the carriage, and giving instruction to the driver to remain at this place until they should return, they started off to explore the ruined city. It had been their intention to make use of the driver as guide, to show them the objects of interest in the town; but his long-continued sulks drove this from their minds, and they concluded to trust to themselves and their guide-books. The carriage was drawn up on the side of the road, not far from where there stood an archway, still entire, which once formed one of the gates of Paestum.

Towards this they directed their steps. The gateway was formed of large blocks of stone laid upon each other without cement, and by their great size they had resisted the ravages of time. On either side of this could be seen the foundation stones of the city walls, which have fallen or have been removed in the course of ages. But the circuit of the walls can be traced by the fragments that yet remain, and from this circuit the size of the city may be judged. Beyond the gates and in the enclosure of the walls are some majestic and world-famed ruins, some of which are little else than masses of rubbish, while others are so well preserved, that they might now be used for the purpose to which they were originally devoted. There are the remains of a theatre and of an amphitheatre, which, however, are confused heaps, and some public edifices in the same condition. The foundations of some private houses may also be seen. But the most noted and most interesting of the remains of Paestum are its two Temples and Basilica--edifices whose origin reaches back to the depths of an immemorial antiquity, but which still remain in a state of preservation so perfect as to be almost incredible. For these edifices are as old, at least, as Homer, and were probably in existence before his day. Phoenician sailors or merchants may have set eyes on these temples, who also saw the Temple of Solomon at its completion. They existed in the age of the Pharaohs, and rival in antiquity, in massive grandeur, and in perfect preservation, the Pyramids of Egypt. In the age of imperial Rome, and even of republican Rome, these temples were ancient, and the Emperor Augustus visited them, and regarded them as remains of venerable antiquity.

Of these three edifices, the most majestic, and probably the most ancient, is the one which is called the Temple of Neptune. The stone of which it is built, is found in the neighborhood still, and presents a most singular appearance. At a distance it appears very rough and full of holes, like cork. A closer examination shows that it is really composed of innumerable fragments of wood, compressed together in a vast, solid mass, and petrified. The stone is exceedingly hard and durable. The blocks of this stone out of which this temple, and the others also, are built, are of such enormous size, that they can only be compared to those immense masses that were heaped up to form the Pyramids of Egypt and the Temples of Karnak. Piled up here upon one another without cement, they have defied the ravages of time.

The Temple of Neptune is approached by three immense steps, which extend around every side of it. It is about two hundred feet in length, and eighty in breadth, while on every side there is a row of enormous columns of the Doric order, thirty-six in number. They are all fluted, and have an aspect of severe and massive grandeur that is unequalled in any other temple. Above these columns rise an enormous Doric frieze and cornice, the height of which is equal to half the height of the columns; and these proportions give such vastness to the mass above, that it heightens the sublime effect. The columns, which extend round the Temple, are thirty feet high, and seven feet in diameter at the base. Inside, the pavement is well preserved; and, though the altar is gone, yet the place where it stood can easily be seen. There is no roof above, and probably never was any; for many of the vast edifices of antiquity were open to the sky--a circumstance which made the task of the architect much easier, since it relieved him of the necessity of sustaining a vast weight in the air, and also of the equal difficulty of lighting the interiors of his buildings. From within the temple enclosures, as from within the theatres and amphitheatres, the blue sky could be seen overhead, while the too fervid rays of a midsummer sun, or the storms of winter, could be warded off from those within by means of an awning thrown over the open roof, and stretched on cables.

Near the Temple of Neptune is another, which is called the Temple of Ceres. It is neither so large nor so grand as the former, but it possesses more elegance and beauty. It is about a hundred feet long and fifty feet wide. Like its companion, it is surrounded on all sides by a colonnade, six pillars being in the front, six in the rear, and twelve on either side. The altar here is gone, but its foundations remain. Various signs show a greater degree of splendor in the interior adornment of this temple, especially the fact that the pavement was mosaic work. There is reason to suppose that this temple was turned into a Christian church some time in the fourth century. Such a transformation as this was common enough throughout the Roman empire during that great triumph of Christianity which took place under Constantine, and after him, so that in this, case there need be little room for doubt as to the truth of the statement.

Not far from this is the third of the great edifices of Paestum. It is about as large as the Temple of Neptune, being nearly two hundred feet long, and about eighty feet wide. Like the others, it is surrounded by a colonnade, but the architecture is less massive than that of the first temple. Of these columns, nine are in front, nine in the rear, and sixteen are on either side, making fifty in all. In this edifice there are no signs whatever of an altar; and this circumstance has led to the belief that it was not a temple at all, but a court of law. Accordingly, it is called the Basilica, which term was used by the Romans to indicate a place used for public trials. Inside, the pavement yet remains, and there are the remains of a row of columns which once passed along the middle of the building from front to rear, dividing it into two parts.

Of all the three, the Temple of Neptune is the grandest, the best preserved, and the most famous. But the others are fit companions, and the giant forms of these mighty relics of hoary antiquity, unsurpassed by any other edifice, rise before the traveller, exciting within him emotions of reverential awe.

The party visited all these various objects of interest, and at length returned to the gate. They had spent about two hours in their Purvey of Paestum, and had seen all that there was to be seen; and now nothing more remained but to return as soon as possible, and spend that night at Salerno. They had seen nothing of the driver since they left him, and they accounted for this on the ground that he was still maintaining himself in his gigantic sulk, and brooding over his wrongs; and they thought that if he chose to make a fool of himself, they would allow him to do so as long as it was agreeable to him.

With these thoughts they approached the gateway. As they drew near, they were surprised to find that there were no signs of the carriage. The view was open and unobstructed. Here and there mounds or fragments of stone arose in the place where once had been the wall of the city of Paestum, and before them was the simple arch of the massive gateway, but no carriage or horses were visible.

This excited their surprise, and also their alarm. They remembered that the sullen mood of the driver made him quite capable of playing off some malicious trick upon them, and they recalled, also, his threats of the evening before. Could he have chosen this way to put his threats into execution? It seemed, indeed, very much like it.

Still, there was one hope left. It was just possible that the carriage had been drawn up more under the arch, so that it was hidden from view. As this was the last hope that was left them, they hurried forth to put an end to their suspense as soon as possible. Nearer and nearer they came.

At last they reached the arch.

They rushed through it, and beyond it.

There was nothing there!

No carriage! No horses! No driver!

At this they all stopped, and stared at one another in silent consternation.

"He's gone," cried Clive. "He's left us here--to get back the best way we can."

"He swore last night," said David, "that he'd pay us up; and this is the way he's done it."

"Yes," said Bob; "he's been sulky all day. He's been concocting some plan."

"I don't see what good it'll do him," said Frank.

"He'll lose his fare. We won't pay him."

"O. he'll give up that for the pleasure of revenge," said Clive.

"Wal, wal, wal," cried Uncle Moses, looking all around with a face of dark and doleful perplexity. "This here doos beat all I ever seen in all my life. An now, what upon airth we can do--I'm sure I can't tell."

"Whatever we do," said Frank, "it won't do to wait here. It's too late now."

"Perhaps he hasn't run off at all," said David, who always was inclined to believe the best of people. "Perhaps he has driven up the road, and intends to return."

Frank shook his head.

"No," cried he. "I believe the scoundrel has left us. We paid him half of his fare at Sorrento; the rest was to be paid at Naples; but he has thrown that up, in order to have the pleasure of being revenged on us. And where he's gone to now is a mystery to me."

"O, I dare say he's driven off to Naples."

"Perhaps so. But he may intend something more. I've heard that there are brigands about here."

"Brigands!"

"Yes. And I shouldn't wonder if he has gone off with the intention of bringing some of them here to pay their respects to us. He may have started off immediately after we left him; and, if so, he's had two hours already--time enough, as I think, to do a good deal of mischief."

"Brigands!" cried Uncle Moses, in a voice of horror. He stared wildly around, and then looked, with moistened eyes, upon the boys.

"O, boys," he sighed, "why did we ever ventoor out so far in this here I-talian land, or why did we ever come to Italy at all? Brigands! It's what I've allus dreaded, an allus expected, ever sence I fust sot foot on this benighted strand. I ben a feelin it in my bones all day. I felt it a comin over me yesterday, when the mob chased us; but now--our hour hev come!"

"Nonsense, Uncle Moses!" cried Frank, in a hearty, joyous voice. "What's the use of giving up in that fashion? Cheer up. We'll be all right yet."

Chapter V.

_They discuss the Situation.--They prepare to foot it.--A toilsome Walk and a happy Discovery.--The Language of Signs once more.--The Mountain. Cavalcade.--Bob's Ambition.--Its Results--Bob vanishes.--Consternation of the Donkey Boy.--Consternation of the Cavalcade.--E Perduto!_

The mention of brigands produced a startling and powerful effect upon the whole party, and after Uncle Moses' wail of despair, and Frank's rebuke, there was silence for a time.

"Well," said David, "I don't know. I don't believe in brigands altogether. Millions of people come to Italy without seeing anything of the kind, and why should we? For my part, I still think it very likely that the driver has driven back to some place on the road where he can get better entertainment for man and beast than is offered at Paestum."

"Where could he go?" said Frank. "There isn't any inn for miles."

"O you don't know," said David. "There are some by-roads, I dare say, that lead to houses on the hills. I dare say he'll soon be back. From what I've seen of the Italians, I think they'd stand a great deal before losing any money. The driver would wait till he got his pay, and then try to take his revenge."

"Well, it may be so," said Frank; "burin any case, it will be best for us to start off at once. There's no use waiting here any longer. We can foot it, after all. And we may come to houses, or we may pick up a wagon, and get a lift."

This was evidently the best thing that could be done, and so they all at once set off on foot, on their way back to Salerno.

Fortunately for them, they were quite fresh. They had been driving all the morning; and for two hours they had been strolling up and down within a small circuit, looking at temples, or sprawling on the grass. They had eaten a good lunch before leaving the carriage, and had not had time yet to feel hungry. The weather was mild and pleasant. The sun shone brightly, without being too hot, and everything was favorable to a walk. More than all, the road was very good, and not being much travelled, it was grass-grown to a great extent, and this grass afforded an easy and agreeable path for their feet.

They set out in high spirits, walking pretty vigorously, yet not too rapidly, for they wished to husband their strength, chatting all the while, and debating the point as to the driver's intentions. Frank maintained that he had deserted them out of malice, and Bob coincided with this view. David, on the other hand, believed that he had merely driven away to find refreshment, and would return, and Clive sided with him. But, as mile after mile was traversed, and still no signs of the driver appeared, David's theory grew weak, and Frank's grew strong. As for Uncle Moses, he said nothing, his feeling being chiefly one of intense anxiety to get the boys home before meeting with brigands. The awful images of Italian banditti, which Frank's words had called up in his mind, were not to be easily got rid of.

They walked on for about two hours, and by that time had succeeded in putting some seven or eight miles between themselves and Paestum. The road now became wider, and quite free from grass, giving every indication of being a well-trodden thoroughfare, and exciting the hope that they would find some wine cart at least, or other mode of conveyance, by means of which they could complete their journey to Salerno.

Suddenly, on making a turn in the road, they saw before them some moving objects, the sight of which elicited a shout of joy from Bob.

"Donkeys! Donkeys!" he cried. "Hurrah, boys!"

"Why, what good are they?" said David.

"Good?" cried Bob; "every good in the world. We can hire them, or buy them, and ride back to Salerno."

"That's a capital idea," cried Frank, in great delight. "I hoped to find wine carts, or ox carts; but donkeys are infinitely better."

Hurrying forward, they soon overtook the donkeys. There were six or eight of them, guided by an old man and a boy. Frank instantly accosted them. Of course he could not speak Italian, but by means of signs he succeeded in conveying to the old man's mind the requisite idea. On this occasion he felt most strongly the benefit which he had received from his intercourse with Paolo. Frank thus pointed to his feet, and then backward, and then forward, and then pointing to the donkey nearest, he made a motion to mount, after which he showed the old man some money, and tapping it, and pointing to the donkey, he looked inquiringly at him, as if to ask, "How much?"

The old man made some signs which seemed to Frank to be a question, "How far?" so he roared out, in stentorian tones, "Salerno."

Upon this the old man stood for a little while in silent thought. Then he looked at Frank, and then, pointing with one hand at Frank's money, with the other he touched the donkey which seemed to say that he would let the donkey go for that price. As there was not quite a dollar in Frank's hand, in loose change, the charge seemed to him to be very reasonable, and even, as he expressed it, dirt cheap. So thought all the rest, and they all proceeded to bring forth their loose change, and pass it over to the old-man. The hands of the latter closed over the silver, with a nervous and almost convulsive clutch, and after one long, hungry look at each lot that was given him, he would insert each very carefully in the remote corner of an old sheepskin poach that hung in front of him, suspended around his waist.

But now arose a difficulty. The donkeys had no saddles. That was a small matter, however, and was not the real difficulty. The real difficulty lay in the fact that they had no bridles. How could they guide them?

Frank tried by signs to express this difficulty to the old man, and the latter understood him, for he smiled, nodded, shrugged his shoulders, and then pointed to his boy, and waved his band in the direction they wished to go. The boy also smiled and nodded, and made signs of his own, by which he plainly showed them that he intended to accompany them as guide, and lead the drove, while they might ride.

This being understood, the boys felt satisfied, and each one now proceeded to select the donkey which was most to his taste. Bob had already made his selection, and was mounted on the back of the biggest donkey of the lot--an animal whose size, breadth of chest, and slender limbs gave him an air of actual elegance. All the boys envied Bob his mount; but none of them complained. Frank secured a solid animal, that had a matter-of-fact expression, and looked as though he had no nonsense in him. Clive chose one that had a slight shade of melancholy in his face, as though he had known sorrow. David's donkey was a shaggy, hard-headed, dogged-looking animal, that seemed bent on having his own way. Uncle Moses' mount was rather eccentric. He chose the smallest animal of the lot,--a donkey, in fact,--which was so small that its rider's feet could only be kept from the ground with difficulty. Uncle Moses, indeed, if he had chosen, might have taken steps on the ground, and accelerated the motion of his beast by propelling him with his own feet.

Great was the laughter that arose among the party as each one mounted his gallant steed, and turned to look upon his companion. Jeers, and jokes, and light chaff arose, and the boys found no end of fun in this new adventure. But Uncle Moses wasn't able to see any fun in it at all. He sat with an expression on his face that would have done honor to a martyr at the stake, and the boys respected him too much to include him in their good-natured raillery.

The Italian boy took David's donkey by the ear, and started. David's donkey, in spite of his appearance of obstinacy, followed without resistance, and trotted nimbly off, the Italian boy running easily by his side. The other donkeys followed. As they had no bridles and no saddles, some of the party had a little difficulty in preserving their balance, but managed to do so by grabbing the coarse hair of the donkey's mane. The pace was a rapid one, and it was wonderful to see how well the Italian boy kept up with them without losing breath, or slackening it. This he did for a long time.

Among those who cared nothing for saddle or bridle was Bob. On the back of a donkey he felt as comfortable as though he was sitting in an easy-chair. As they trotted along the road, Bob sat with his arms folded, and his legs now hanging loosely, now drawn up in front of him, and at other times pretending that he had a side-saddle. At length he became discontented with the subordinate position that he was occupying, in merely following in the rear of a leader like David. He was a far better rider than David, and his donkey a far better donkey than the leading one. With the ambitions desire to obtain the post of honor for himself, he beat, pounded, and kicked at his donkey. For a long time this had no effect whatever; the donkey not only was not stimulated by it, but he did not even seem to be conscious of it. At last Bob determined to resort to other methods. Drawing a pin from his shirt collar, where it was filling the place of a lost button, he stuck it two or three times in the donkey's flanks.

This was too much. The patience of Bob's donkey had reached its farthest limit. It could endure it no more.

With a wild bound the donkey sprang forward, and in three paces had cleared the way to the first. Another leap, and he was beyond them.

The donkey ran like a race-horse. His slender, sinewy limbs seemed as fitted for running and for speed as the limbs of an antelope. His head was down, his neck arched, his tail in the air, and his long, rapid strides bore him with astonishing velocity far ahead and far away.

The Italian boy tittered a cry of dismay, and stopped short. The donkey which he was holding stopped also, and the others did the same. The Italian boy looked with a face of consternation after the runaway. All the rest looked with vague fears in the same direction, and with a half hope that Bob might stop the animal, or turn him.

"_E perduto!_" exclaimed the Italian boy; and though they did not understand Italian, yet there was something in his tone, and look, and gesture, which told them the meaning of those words--"He's lost!"

Chapter VI.

_Flight of Bob.--Difference between a tame Donkey and a wild Ass.--Carried off to the Mountains.--The Headlong Course.--The Mountain Pass.--The Journey's End.--Ill-omened Place.--Confounded by a new Terror.--The Brigands._

When the donkey first bounded off, the feelings of Bob were nothing but pure, unmitigated delight. As his spirited animal, roused from his indifference, burst through the crowd and reached the head, Bob's heart swelled with triumph. As he rushed along the road, far ahead of the rest, his triumph increased. He turned his head, and waved his hands to his friends. Then he waved his cap in the air, and shouted, "Hurrah!" Then he rode side-saddle fashion for a little while, then he drew both legs up in front, and then he indulged in a series of absurd and fantastic tricks.

All this Bob did because he supposed that he was riding ahead of his friends, and that they were following him, and admiring him. He had not made any calculation as to the great rate of speed at which his donkey was carrying him, and had no idea how quickly he was leaving all the rest behind. So, while he had been indulging in his pranks for the amusement of those whom he supposed to be following him, he was, in reality, already beyond the reach of their eyes.

For his donkey was an animal very far superior to the common herd. He was not a donkey--he was an ass--spirited, slender, sinewy, and fleet as a race-horse. There was something so peculiarly easy in the ass's gait that it deceived the rider. It seemed to him to be a gentle ambling trot, or something midway between that and a canter. In reality this easy pace was exceedingly swift, and before long Bob was out of sight of his friends. This discovery burst upon him as he turned, with the intention of shouting back some nonsense to them, when, to his utter amazement and consternation, he saw no signs of them whatever.

It must be confessed that the shock which this discovery gave to Bob was a very powerful one. He looked all around in anxious curiosity, with the endeavor to comprehend his situation. His first thought was, that some accident had happened to the party which was delaying them; but soon he became aware of his own tremendous progress, and understood the true state of the case'. He was now in a place where the road ran straight for over a mile. At the end of this it turned. As Bob reached this turning-place, he looked back again, and far away, just at the entrance upon the straight piece of road, he saw the party coming. A few seconds and he was once more carried out of sight.

And now Bob began to feel that his situation was a serious one. It was not pleasant to be carried away in this manner, in a strange country, on the back of an animal like this. Had it been a runaway horse, he would have felt less troubled. He would, in fact, have felt quite at home, for he had been frequently run away with on horseback. He understood horses, but of asses he knew nothing. A horse was to some extent a sensible animal. He would run away, and in due time would come to a pause. But an ass! Was an ass possessed of any sense of decency--any conscience? Would the well-known obstinacy of the ass be shown on an occasion like this? and would this ass, merely out of that obstinacy, keep on running for all the rest of the day? It was a startling thought.

Bob all this time had been making desperate efforts to stop the ass. He was considerably embarrassed by the fact that there was no bridle, and no way of getting at the ass, so as to exert his strength upon him. He tried various ways. First he pulled at his long ears. For this the ass cared not a whit. He did not seem to be conscious of it. Then he wound his hands about his neck, and tried to pull his head back. The effect was useless. Bob's strength was unavailing. He could no more move that bent and stubborn neck, than he could straighten the crooked fluke of an anchor. Then he pounded wildly upon the neck, shoulders, and flanks of the ass, and kicked against his sides. This, too, was useless, for his puny blows seemed to affect the animal no more than so many puffs of wind. Then Bob tried other means. He sat upright, and suddenly called, in a short, sharp, peremptory voice, "Whoa!" This he repeated over and over, but without any success; and at length he reflected that _whoa_ was English, a language which, of course, an Italian ass could not understand.

While Bob had been putting forth these efforts, the ass bad been flying along at an undiminished rate of speed, and the country swept past him on either side. He passed long lines of trees by the roadside, he saw field after field flit by, and the distant hills went slowly along out of the line of his vision. Hitherto he had met with no one at all along the road, nor had he seen any cattle of any kind. His efforts to arrest the ass had been fruitless, and he gave them up, and looked forward for some opportunity to get assistance. He remembered that the road had no towns or inns between Paestum and Salerno, and he began to fear that he would be carried all the way to the latter place before he could stop.

His fears, however, were unfounded; for now an event occurred which made him full of other thoughts. It was a sudden change in the course of his flight. Thus far they had been going along the main road. Now, however, they came to a place where a road led away on the right, apparently to the mountains. Without the slightest pause or hesitation, but with undiminished speed, and the headlong flight of one familiar with the way, the ass turned from the main road, and ran into this side road.

The anxiety and fear which Bob had thus far felt were trifling, indeed, compared with the emotions that now seized upon him. Thus far he had not felt altogether cut off from his friends. He knew all the time that they were behind him, and that at the worst he could not be carried farther than Salerno, and that they would come up with him there, and thus they would all be reunited before dark. But now he was suddenly carried off helplessly from the main road, and in a moment seemed severed from his friends. Where was he going? When would the ass stop?

Before him arose the mountainous country, not many miles away, the declivities in some places slight and gradual, in other places abrupt. Cultivated spots appeared here and there, and white villages, and old castles. It was not, however, an inviting country, and the nearer he drew to it the less he liked it. The road here was not so broad, and smooth, and easy as the one he had just left, but was narrow and rough. At length he reached the skirts of the mountains, and the road now began to ascend. After a while it grew somewhat steeper, and decidedly rougher. And now Bob found, to his immense relief, that the pace was at last beginning to tell upon the tough sinews of the fiery animal which he bestrode. The ass could not keep up such a pace while ascending the mountain. Gradually his speed slackened, and Bob at length began to look about for a soft place, where he could jump.

But by this time the road entered what looked like a pass among the mountains. On one side the hill rose, wooded in some places, in others rocky; while on the other side it went down steep for about thirty, feet, where a mountain torrent brawled, and dashed over its rocky bed. It was about here that the ass slackened his pace sufficiently for Bob to jump from his back; but just here it was impossible to jump without the risk of breaking some of his bones, and he was not yet quite desperate enough to run such a risk as that. As the road went on through the pass, it grew narrower and steeper, quite impassable for carriages, and Only fit for travellers on horse or foot. The farther on it went, the rougher and steeper it became, and it went on with many a winding. No houses appeared, except at a great distance, and those which did thus appear seemed separated by deep valleys from the place where he was.

Bob could have easily dismounted from the donkey now; but he hesitated. He thought with some dismay upon the distance that lay between him and the main road. He thought that his friends must have passed beyond the place where he turned off, and that if he did go back he could not hope to meet them. Besides, to go so long a distance on foot was too formidable a task just now. He hoped that the ass had some aim in directing his course here, and that he was seeking his home. Perhaps that home was close by. Perhaps it was some village in the mountains. If so, he might be able to obtain a mount for Salerno, and still reach that place before night was over.

He hoped thug to find help--to get a horse or an ass, and also something to eat, and thus set forth for Salerno. As the road wound on, and as he traversed it, he looked eagerly at every projecting cliff before him; and as he rounded each projection he still looked forward eagerly in search of the place, whether house or village, where he might obtain the help of which he stood in need. But the road continued lonely. He saw no houses, no villages, in its vicinity. He met with no living things, whether men or cattle. It was the loneliest path he had ever traversed.

At last he rounded a projecting spur of the mountain; and here he beheld a scene which was more promising. A little distance off there was a bridge, which crossed the torrent. Beyond this the mountains sloped away in an easy declivity, where appeared several houses. On the other side of the bridge were two men. The sight filled Bob with joy, and fearing that the ass might once more take it into his head to run, he at once leaped off the animal's back, and walked towards the bridge. The ass, freed from his weight, trotted briskly away, and Bob followed. The noise of me ass trotting over the bridge roused the two men, and they walked across and caught him. One of them then held him, and the other walked towards Bob.

As the latter approached, Bob noticed that he was dirty and bearded, and rather shabby. He had a coarse jacket, with brass buttons; a red flannel shirt, which was open, and disclosed a hairy breast; and coarse leather breeches with leggings. A conical felt hat was on the top of his head. Thusfar he was simply the counterpart of hundreds of other peasants in this part of the country, shepherds, drovers, wine-sellers, etc., such as he had encountered during his drive. But in one important respect ne was different.

He had a gun in his hand.

This gun at once made him seem more than a simple peasant. It made a profound impression upon Bob. And as the Italian approached, with his eyes fixed on the new comer, a strange and very natural suspicion was roused in Bob's mind.

"It's a brigand!" he thought. "I'm lost!"

Chapter VII.

The Lurking-place of the Brigands.--The captive Boy.--The hideous Household.--The horrible old Hag.--The slattern Woman.--The dirty Children.--The old Crone and the evil Eye.--Despondency of Bob.--Is Escape Possible?--Night.-Imprisoned.--The Bed of Straw.--Outlook into the Night from the Prison Windows.

A brigand!

Such was the appalling thought that came to the mind of Bob, as the Italian advanced towards, him. As he came closer, his face became more distinctly revealed. It was not a face which reassured him. Heavy, shaggy black eyebrows, from beneath which gleamed black and fiery eyes, a skin browned by the hot, Italian sun, and white teeth, that glistened from behind a vast matted mass of tangled beard and moustache,--such was the face that appeared. It seemed an evil and sinister face--a face that revealed a cruel and treacherous soul. No wonder that Bob's heart sank within him as he saw himself confronted by one like this.

The Italian stood looking at him with sharp and close scrutiny. Then he said something.

Bob could not understand him, and tried to explain by signs that he had lost his way, and that the donkey had run away with him. He also pointed to himself, and said, "Americano," and waved his hand in the direction of the road up which he had come, and said, "Salerno." This was very well for Bob, especially when his anxiety of mind is taken into account, and his signs seemed intelligible to the Italian. He looked at Bob carefully, and finally seemed to make out an explanation of his appearance, which satisfied him, after which he motioned to him to follow, and walked back towards the bridge. Bob's first impulse was to rush away, and run as fast as his legs could carry him; but the thought of the Italian's gun checked the impulse, and he followed.

Meanwhile, the other brigand, who had caught the ass, stood stroking it and examining it. The animal seemed perfectly quiet and docile; altogether a changed animal, different far from that wild beast that had torn Bob away from all his friends, and thrown him here among these dread associates. This other man had very much the same general appearance as the first one. His beard was reddish, and his eyes were smaller, the general expression of his face was more sinister, as Bob thought, and though he had no gun, yet he seemed none the less formidable.

The two men stood talking together for some time. One of them seemed to be narrating to the other Bob's account of himself, as he had understood it from the signs that had been made. After this they seemed to be discussing the subject of Bob and the ass, for they looked at him and at the animal from time to time during their conversation. At length they seemed to have made up their minds about the subject, for they stopped talking; and motioning Bob to follow, they walked away, leading the ass with them.

Again a strong impulse rose in Bob's mind to fly; but again the dread of being shot at prevented him. He therefore followed as before.

There was in this place a circular sweep of hills enclosing a valley, through which the brook ran. Crossing this by a bridge, the road wound along a gentle declivity, and not very far away were one or two houses. One of these was two stories high, much dilapidated, and looked as though it might once have been a wind-mill, or something of that sort. It stood on the edge of the torrent, and the door-way was towards the road. The other buildings seemed to be barns of some sort, or sheep-folds. The grassy declivity spread away till it reached a steeper ascent, and here there began a forest which covered the mountain-sides.

Towards this old mill Bob was led by his captors. As he drew near he saw some dirty children at play, in front of the door-way. Soon an old woman came out, followed by another, who was younger. The old woman was a hideous old crone. Her hair was a matted gray mass, her teeth were gone, and her face was pinched, and so seamed with wrinkles, that she looked as though she might be over a hundred years old. The other woman was very dirty and slatternly. She had a dirty baby in her arms; her hair was in disorder, her face was greasy and smouched, and a filthy cloth, which might once have been white, was on her head. The women and children were all barefoot. As Bob approached, they all stared at him with the most intense curiosity; the two women stood still and stared; the children stopped their play and stared; and there was something in the glow and glitter of all these fiery, black, Italian eyes which seemed horrible to poor Bob, and made his flesh fairly creep.

The men then began to talk to the women, evidently explaining about Bob and the ass; and as they talked the eyes of all of them were most of the time fixed upon these two. As for the children, they glared for a time with very evil looking faces at Bob; but at length the ass seemed to offer superior attractions to them, for they made a rush at it, climbed on its back, pulled at its ears and tail, and tormented it in various ways. Strange to say, this animal, that had punished poor Bob's little trick so fearfully, showed no resentment whatever at his present treatment, but stood there, no longer the fiery wild ass, but the very living image of a patient donkey.

Bob stood there looking upon the scene with his heart sinking within him, yet by no means despairing. He had too high a spirit and too stout a heart to give up so soon; and as he stood there, in the power of this evil company, he turned over in his mind a hundred different modes of escape. If he could once effect his escape from these people, he might easily go back by the mountain path. But how could he escape? That was the difficulty. Thus far, to his amazement, they had not inflicted any cruelty upon him, nor had they tied his hands; but that was, no doubt, owing to their contempt for him, and their conviction that he would not venture to fly. All that Bob had ever heard about the manners and customs of Italian brigands now came to his mind--how they detain their prisoners subject to a ransom, treating them well enough until the ransom comes, but if it fails, then inflicting upon them the most horrible cruelties. To Bob it now seemed certain that they intended to hold him for ransom, and that they would treat him well till he should be freed. As he felt certain about obtaining his ransom, he began to feel less anxious, and his bold and enterprising spirit began to conceive various ways by which he might baffle the brigands.

At length one of the men went off, and the younger of the women went into the house. The brigand with the gun remained, and talked for a little while with the old woman. It was evident to Bob, by the glances which they threw at him, that he was the subject of their conversation. To him the old woman was by far the most obnoxious of the whole crowd. The slatternly woman, the dirty, impish children, the brigands,--all these were bad enough; but the old woman was far worse to his imagination. There was in her watery eyes, in the innumerable wrinkles of her leathery skin, in her toothless jaws, something so uncanny that he almost shuddered. She reminded him of some of those witches of whom he had read, who, in former and more superstitious ages, were supposed to have dealings with the evil one, and whose looks certainly sustained such a supposition. To Bob, at that time, it seemed that if ever any one did in reality have dealings with the evil one, that one was the old hag behind him. To him she seemed a witch; he thought of her as a witch; and if she had at that time put on a peaked hat, straddled a broomstick, and flown off through the air, it would scarcely have surprised him.

At length the brigand went off, and the old woman came up to Bob. At her approach Bob involuntarily shrank back a step or two. The old hag fixed her small, watery eyes on him, mumbled with her toothless jaws, and after a few efforts croaked out something in Italian, followed by some gestures with her hands, which Bob understood to convey a general assurance of safety. For this he was prepared, since his mind was now fixed upon the idea that he would be kept for a ransom. Then the old woman came nearer, and put one of her thin, bony, shrivelled hands on his shoulder. The touch was like the touch of a skeleton, and suggested horrible thoughts to poor Bob. A thrill of disgust and terror shot through him; but he stood it, for he did not like to show his disgust, for fear of offending his hideous companion. The old woman, then standing before him with her hand on his shoulder, looked at him for a long time in silence. Bob looked back at her, and it seemed to him that he had never seen in all his life, such a hideous face. The wrinkles were now more plainly visible, the jaws seemed to be more retreating, the cheeks were sunken, the cheek-bones projecting, the eyes, small and weak, showed tears that slowly trickled down.

Suddenly the old hag gave a low groan, which Bob attributed to some pain or other, and turned away. He noticed that she was trembling, and thought it was the weakness of her extreme old age. He was puzzled by these movements of hers, and felt sure that they meant no good. After a few minutes she, turned again, and beckoned to him to follow. She led the way into the house. On reaching the door Bob hesitated, and stood without looking in. He saw a large apartment occupying all the lower story of the old mill, with some rude seats and rough beds. A long ladder led up to the upper story. The old woman beckoned for him to come in, and Bob did not like to refuse. So he went in. She then brought forth some cold mutton and black bread, which she offered him. Bob was ravenously hungry; but at that moment an idea came to him--a suspicion that was created by the very sinister aspect and very singular behavior of the old crone. The suspicion was, that it was drugged or poisoned. This suspicion was not at all in accordance with the idea that they were keeping him for a ransom, but it was an irrepressible one, and though hungry, he did not dare to eat. So he shook his head. Upon this the old hag took the things away, and Bob went out again.

The dirty children had been playing with the donkey all this time, and still kept up their sport but in the midst of their sport they still had curiosity enough to keep their eyes from time to time upon the strange boy who had come thus suddenly into their midst. The furtive, sinister glances of their wicked black eyes had something uncanny in them, which made Bob feel more uncomfortable than ever. He took a seat upon a stone in front of the house, on one side of the door-way, and looked all around. The mountains arose there, rising first gently in an easy acclivity, and then sweeping up with a greater incline. Their sides, and even their summits, were here all covered with forests. On the left he could see the bridge over which the road passed--the road that led to safety. Could he but escape for a few moments from the eyes of his jailers, he might be saved. And why not? Two women, and some dirty children--why should he care for such guards as these? One rush, one leap, and he would be free. Willingly would he walk all the way to Salerno. Anything would be welcome after such a captivity as this.

But Bob was doomed to disappointment; for just as he had made up his mind to fly, just as he was looking all around to see if the coast was clear, he saw, to his deep distress, the two brigands approaching from the outhouse. They were carrying something which, on nearer approach, turned out to be a sheep, which they had just killed. Of course all thoughts of flight now departed, and Bob could only deplore his own stupidity in allowing that one chance of escape to pass away.

After this they began to boil portions of the sheep in a pot; and soon the savory odor of a stew filled the room, and came to Bob's nostrils. As he was half starving, the delicious odor excited the utmost longing to taste it, and he at once began to feel rather satisfied that he had not fled. He felt that a flight after dinner would be far better. In due time the dinner was ready. It was a stew,--mutton, with vegetables, cooked deliciously,--and Bob's hunger was so great that if it had been worse cooked it would have been a banquet. He had no fears of poison, no suspicions of drugging, for the whole family prepared to partake' of the repast--the two brigands, the old hag, the slatternly woman, and the dirty children. The stew was poured out into a huge wooden platter; they used no plates, but dipped with their fingers. The sight awakened a little disgust in Bob, but he was too hungry to be squeamish, and he succeeded in picking out various morsels which had not been touched by the dirty hands of his companions.

During the repast Bob noticed that they all kept looking, from time to time, at him, and their furtive glances met his eyes whenever he turned them. The old woman sometimes seemed to devour him with a greedy, hungry sort of gaze, that was very horrible. It was an ogrish look, and Bob's appetite was somewhat checked by the horror that he found in her eyes, and he was unable to have that free play with the repast which he might otherwise have had.

After the repast Bob once more went outside, hoping now to have the opportunity which he had missed before. The dirty children went outside too. The two brigands followed, and occupied themselves with various employments. Escape from such surroundings as these was impossible. At length one of the brigands mounted the ass, and rode away down the road by which he had come. This circumstance seemed suspicious to Bob at first, but afterwards he thought that perhaps he had gone to Salerno to get the ransom.

After this, darkness came on so suddenly that he was amazed. He had already noticed that the twilight in Italy was very much less than that to which he had been accustomed at home, but had never been so impressed by it as now. There seemed but a minute Between day and night It was quite bright, and then in a wonderfully short time it became dark.

Upon this they all entered the house. Bob had to go with the rest. The room was feebly illuminated by a small oil lamp. Bob noticed that they fastened the door with a huge chain. The fastening of that door was ominous to him, and the clanking of that chain smote him to the heart, and echoed drearily within his soul. It seemed to him now like real imprisonment, shut in here with chains and bars, within this stone prison.

Soon they all prepared to retire; and the brigand who had first met Bob beckoned to him, and taking the lamp, climbed the ladder to the upper story. Bob followed him. The upper story was about eighteen feet above the lower one. On reaching it, Bob saw that it was all one apartment. There was no bed here, or bedding, or furniture of any description whatever. Sheep-skins hung from the rafters, and dried mutton, and some vegetables. In one corner was a pile of straw. To this the brigand pointed, and Bob went over there. He understood that he was to pass the night on this pile of straw. Once more Bob looked all around as he stood there by the straw. He saw the farther end of the room in dark shadows; he saw the articles hanging from the rafters. He noticed, also, that there were two windows, one in front and the other in the rear. In these windows there were no sashes. They were open to the night air. One glance sufficed to show him this.

The brigand now said something which Bob supposed to mean good night, so he very civilly said the same in English. The brigand grinned, and then descended the ladder, taking the lamp with him.

On his departure, Bob's first act was to take off his boots. He then felt his way along the wall to the front window, for it was so intensely dark inside and outside, that not a thing was visible. Reaching the window, he put his head out and looked down. He could see nothing. All was the very blackness of darkness. He looked up to the sky. All there was blackness also and darkness. Then he looked down again. If he had only some means of getting down, he could venture the descent; but he had nothing. There were no sheets here for him to tie together; he could not make a rope out of that straw strong enough to bear his weight. To jump down was not to be thought of, for he knew very well that at least twenty feet separated him from the ground.

He turned away from the window in despair, and groping his way back to his rude bed, he sat upon the straw, and gave himself up to his gloomy and despondent thoughts.

Chapter VIII.

_The worn-out Captive.--Light Slumbers.--Fearful Wakening.--The stealthy Step.--The overmastering. Horror.--The lone Boy confronted by his Enemy.--The hungry Eyes.--Is it real, or a Nightmare?--The supreme Moment._

The darkness of the night and the impossibility of escape filled Bob with the most gloomy and distressing thoughts, which at first quite Overcame him. But at length other thoughts came, which were of a less distressing character. His mind once more reverted to the idea that he was held for ransom, and that for the present, at least, he was in safety; and not only so, but well cared for. These people certainly had given him of their best. They had made him share at the common meal, and though this bed of straw was not very elegant, it was at least comfortable, and was no worse than they themselves used to sleep upon.

He flung himself down upon the straw, and found that it was a soft and a refreshing couch. Far better was this fresh straw than any formal bed could have been, for in such a house as that, a mattress or a bed would certainly have been hideous thing, as dirty, as greasy, and as squalid as the people of the house. On the whole, Bob was pleased with his bed of straw, and with its clean, fresh smell.

Escape being thus cut off for the present, Bob's frame of mind grew more placid. As long as he entertained the idea of immediate flight, his mind was constantly on the strain; but now, when that idea had been dismissed, he grew calmer, and thought over his circumstances with more deliberation. He remembered that one of the brigands had already gone away, and, as he supposed, to Salerno. If so, he would, no doubt, either see his friends, or at least hear from them, some time on the following day.

The more he considered his situation, the more free from all immediate danger did it seem, and the more did his hopes increase. He looked forward with eager hope, to the following day. That would, without doubt, bring him news of his friends, or, perhaps, restore him to liberty. Under the pleasant influence of thoughts like these, his mind grew more calm and cheerful every moment, and passed into a state of tranquil contentment Besides, he was tired, and his weariness brought on drowsiness. As long as his excitement lasted, he could not feel the drowsiness; but now, as calmness returned, the weariness and sleepiness became stronger, and by degrees overpowered him.

Gradually the thoughts of his mind became intermingled with the fancies of dreams, and blended the realities around him with things at a distance. All was still, outside and inside. No sound whatever arose from below. The family seemed all asleep. At last Bob dozed off also, and passed into the land of dreams.

His sleep was not heavy. Many things conspired to keep his senses somewhat on the alert even in that slumber of his, and he was in that condition which is called sleeping with one eye open. The fact is, the extraordinary excitement of his donkey ride, and especially of his last adventure in thus falling into captivity, had so roused his faculties, so affected his nerves, and so sharpened his senses, that even in his sleep there still predominated the thoughts and the purposes of his waking hours.

In this state he remained for some time, sleeping, yet vigilant, the body gaining rest and refreshment, but the wary soul on the alert, as though to guard against danger.

How long this sleep continued, whether minutes or hours, Bob could never afterwards remember; but with a sudden shock through all his nerves, he opened his eyes. He was lying, as he had flung himself on the straw, on his back, with his head elevated against a bundle of straw, in such a way that he could see the length of the room.

It was a noise that he heard. He listened breathlessly, and looked with all his eyes.

Around him all was dark. It might be near morning, or it might be early night; he could not tell. All was still, outside and inside--the blackness of darkness and the stillness of death.

Yet now, in the midst of that black darkness and that deathly stillness, he became aware, of a sight and a sound.

It was a low, creaking sound, which was repeated at short intervals, accompanied by a sliding, shuffling noise. It sounded in the direction of the opening by which the ladder led up from below. Looking there, he saw a ray of light, faint and flickering, yet visible enough in that deep darkness; and as the grating, shuffling sounds succeeded one another at regular intervals, even so did the faint, flickering ray of light grow brighter and brighter.

As Bob looked at this and took it all in, one thought came to him in an instant,--

_Somebody was coming up the ladder!_

The thought went through him with a pang.

Somebody is coming up the ladder!

Who?

What for?

That mysterious somebody was coming slowly and stealthily. It was the tread of one who wished to come unobserved.

On waking out of sleep suddenly, the mind is often confused; but when, after such a sudden awakening, it is confronted by some horrible presence, the shock is sometimes too great to be endured. So was it with Bob at this time. His awaking had been sudden; and the horror that he found in the object that now presented itself was, that the shuffling sound that arose from the ladder was the step of Doom,--and the mysterious visitant was stealing towards him to make him its prey. There arose within him an awful anticipation. His eyes fixed themselves upon the place where the light was shining; all his soul awaited, in dreadful expectation, the appearance of the mysterious visitor, and as the stealthy step drew nearer and nearer, the excitement grew stronger, and more painful, and more racking.

At length the figure began to emerge above the opening.

Bob's eyes were fixed upon the place.

He saw first the light. It emerged above the opening--an old oil-lamp held in a bony, grisly, skinny hand. Then followed an arm.

Bob's excitement was now terrible. His heart beat with wild throbs. His whole frame seemed to vibrate under that pulsation which was almost like a convulsion.

The arm rose higher! Higher still!

_It_ was coming!

There arose a matted shock of greasy, gray hair. The light shone down upon it as it was upheld in the bony hand. The hair came tip, and then, gradually, a face.

That face was pale as ashes; it was lean and shrivelled; the cheeks were sunken; the cheek bones projected; and a million wrinkles were carved upon the deep-seamed brow and corrugated cheeks. Over that hideous face the gray hair wandered. Bob's blood seemed to freeze within his veins. The old fable tells of the Gorgon, whose face inspired such horror that the beholder stiffened into stone. So here. Bob beheld a Gorgon face. He felt petrified with utter horror!

As the face came up it was turned towards him. It emerged higher and higher, and at length stopped about a foot above the opening. Here it fixed its gaze upon Bob, bending itself forward, and holding forth the light as far as possible, so that it might light up the room, and peering through the gloom so as to see where Bob was.

There seemed something indescribably evil, malignant, and cruel, in those bleary eyes which thus sought Bob out, fastened themselves upon him, and seemed to devour him with their gaze. There was a hideous eagerness in her look. There was a horrible fascination about it,--such as the serpent exerts over the bird. And as the bird, while under the spell of the serpent's eye, seems to lose all power of flight, and falls a victim to the destroyer, so here, at this time, Bob felt paralyzed at that basilisk glance, and lost all power of motion. He could not speak. He tried to scream. No cry came. He was dumb with horror. He was like one in a nightmare; but this was a waking night-mare, and not the fanciful terrors of dreamland.

But the horror was too great to be endured. He closed his eyes tight, and thus shut out the sight.

But though he shut out the sight, he could not shut oat sound; and soon he became aware of something which brought a fresh terror over his soul.

It was a stealthy step.

It was advancing towards, him.

Slow, cautious, cunning, yet steady, and nearer and still nearer, came the awful step! Bob opened his eyes, to assure himself once more of the worst. He opened them by a resistless impulse.

The figure was now half way between the opening and the bed. The old hag stood now fully revealed. Her bleary eyes were fixed on Bob. One hand upheld the flickering lamp, and in the other was a sharp weapon.

Bob closed his eyes in an anguish of horror. He was dumb. He could utter no cry. He could not move. The blow was coming. The destroyer was here, yet he could not make one motion to ward off that blow. His brain whirled, his heart seemed to stop beating.

There was a terrible moment of dumb, motionless, breathless expectancy.

The old woman knelt by his side.

She put the lamp on the floor.

Then she reached out one of her long, lean, bony, skinny, shrivelled hands, and took Bob by the hair of his head, while with the other she raised her sharp weapon.

Chapter IX.

_The Cavalcade in Pursuit.--Hopes and Fears.--Theories about the lost Boy.--A new Turn to Affairs.--Explanations.--On to Salerno.--Inquiries.--Baffled.--Fresh Consternation and Despondency.--The last Hope._

Meanwhile the party on donkeys trotted along the road after Bob. At the exclamation from the donkey boy they had all experienced a shock; but soon they recovered from it, and the shock only served as a stimulus to make them push the donkeys onward more rapidly. They rode on for some time without making any remarks, each one looking eagerly forward to see if Bob might reappear; but he had vanished behind a turn in the road, and as they advanced, there were other turns to be encountered, and so they were unable to see him. This began to create uneasiness. At first they all had hoped that Bob would be able to stop the ass, or that the animal, after indulging his paces for a short time, would stop of his own accord; but the farther they went, the more they became convinced that this affair had something serious in it.

At length they reached that long, straight piece of road already mentioned. At one end of this was a rising ground; as they ascended this and reached its summit, they looked ahead, and there, far away before them, was a single rider. They recognized Bob at once. He was more than a mile away; but the sight of him filled them all with joy, and they at once stimulated their donkeys to greater exertions. In spite of the distance that intervened, they all shouted as loud as they could; but of course the distance was too great, and their cries were lost before they reached nearly as far away as Bob. In a short time he turned in the road, and passed out of sight.

They now rode on for a long time, and at length came to the road that led to the mountains, up which Bob had gone. This road was not even noticed by them. They had passed other roads of the same kind, which, like this one, led to the mountains, and attached no more importance to this than to those. In the minds of some of them, however, these side-roads suggested a fear, that Bob's ass might have turned off into some one of them; but of course, as they were all alike, they could not conjecture which one would have been taken by the runaway. As they rode on, they still looked ahead. At every turn in the road they still expected to see the fugitive; and it was not until the donkeys themselves gave signs of fatigue, that they were willing to slacken their pace. But the nature of these donkeys was, after all, but mortal; like other mortal things, they were subject to weakness and fatigue; and as they were now exhausted, their riders were compelled to indulge them with a breathing space, and so they slackened their pace to a walk.

And now they all began to consider the probabilities of Bob's fortunes.

"I'm afraid something's happened," said Clive. "Perhaps he's been thrown."

"Thrown?" cried Frank, cheerily. "Why, if so, we would have found him long ago. But the idea of Bob being thrown from any animal that ever lived is simply absurd. Hell stick to that donkey as long as the donkey runs."

"It seems to me," said David,--who was a very thoughtful and observant boy,--"it seems to me that the donkey may have taken some of those roads that go off to the mountains."

"Pooh!" said Frank. "Why should the donkey take the trouble to do anything of that sort? A runaway animal don't generally indulge in freaks of that kind. He generally goes it blind, and runs straight ahead along the road that happens to be before him."

"But perhaps he lives among the mountains," said David, "and, in that case, he would merely be running home."

"I don't believe that," said Frank. "I hold that it requires some thought for an ordinary donkey to quit the high road, and take one of those by-roads."

"Not if a by-road leads to his home."

"But how could his home be there," objected Frank, "when we found him away down there near Paestum?"

"Easily enough," said David. "I dare say they were going home at the very time we came up with them."

"I wish we could ask the boy about it," said Clive. "He could tell as just what we want to know."

"Yes," said Frank; "but, unfortunately, we couldn't understand all of it."

David heaved a sigh.

"How I wish," he exclaimed, "that I had studied Italian before I came! But from this time forth, I'm determined not to rest till I've learned the language."

Uncle Moses was deeply distressed at Bob's disappearance. He had only one idea in his mind. He told the other boys what it was. It was the idea of brigands. They had met poor Bob; they had seized him, and had carried him off to their lurking-places in the mountains. Even now he was in captivity. And the heart of Uncle Moses yearned over the poor prisoner. He expressed these fears in a few words, for he was too agitated to say much.

Clive and David both shook their heads over this, and thought there was something in it. Both of them now thought that Bob might have been carried by his donkey to the mountains; and, if so, his capture by brigands would be almost certain. To them, these mountains seemed to be full of them; the whole population, in their opinion, was a community of brigands.

Clive had also another idea. It was this. The driver had deserted them and had gone off vowing vengeance. He had gone to the mountains, and returned with a band of brigands to capture all of them. They had met Bob, seized him, and taken him off.

At all this Frank laughed.

"Pooh!" said he. "I don't see why you should go out of your way to torment yourselves about nothing at all. It all seems plain enough to me. The donkey has run off, and intends to keep running till he drops. There's a long, straight, smooth road before him, and he'll stick to that without bothering his head about by-roads or mountains. And if he's obstinate enough, I don't see why he shouldn't keep on running till he gets to Salerno. And it's my opinion, if we don't pick him up on the road, well find him at Salerno when we get there."

"O, that's all very well," said Clive, "but think how certain you were about the driver--"

He was interrupted by the sound of galloping horses and rolling wheels. The sound came from behind. At once they all turned their heads. Emerging from behind a torn in the road, they saw two horses galloping at full speed, and drawing a carriage. The driver was whipping the horses furiously, and calling and shouting. The carriage was empty. In a moment they recognized the truth. It was their carriage and their driver.

They all stood still, and looked in surprise, and the carriage rolled swiftly up. The driver at once stopped the horses, and jumped to the ground. Then, coming to the boys, he burst forth into a strain of the most profuse and vehement apologies. He implored them to forgive him, and began to explain the cause of his absence from the place where they had left him.

It seems that he found this place an inconvenient one, and had driven across the fields for about half, a mile, to some trees. Here he had taken his horses out, and allowed them to feed. He himself lay down in the carriage, and took a _siesta_. He overslept himself. On awaking, he was horrified to find how much time had passed, and at once proceeded to search for the horses. But during his sleep they had both wandered off, and could not be found until after a long search. When at length he was ready, and had driven back, he found to his horror that they were not there. Thinking that they were still among the ruins, he had gone over the whole place, which took up still more time. At last he saw that they must have left. He at once drove off. Knowing that they were on foot, he expected every minute to catch sight of them. He drove on for miles without seeing any trace of them, and at length came to the conclusion that they had, perhaps, found the carriage of some other visitors, and had obtained seats in that. He knew that they must have gone, and could only account in that way for their rapid progress.

This explanation of the driver was perfectly satisfactory to them all, and their joy at getting the carriage again was so great that they excused his unfortunate slumbers. The driver also, on his part, had now forgotten all about his sulks, and was the same genial and companionable soul as before. On learning about Bob's mishap, he at once assured them that the donkey must have run along the road, and that they would undoubtedly soon catch up with him. So the whole party got into the carriage, the driver whipped up the horses, and away they went towards Salerno.

Mile after mile was traversed.

Still there were no signs of Bob,

"Something's happened," said Clive.

"He's been carried to the mountains," said David.

"It's the brigands!" groaned Uncle Moses.

"O, it's all right," said Frank, confidently. "That donkey's a regular race-horse. We'll find him at Salerno."

At length they reached Salerno. They drove up to the hotel.

No signs of Bob!

Hurrying in, they made inquiries, and found that he had not come. This filled them all with the greatest concern; and the driver, and the landlord, and all others who heard of it, asserted that he must have been carried to the mountains. It was now dark. Nothing more could be done; and so they could only resolve to drive back on the following day, and make a more careful search after the lost boy.

Chapter X.

_The captive Boy and his grisly Visitant.--The Hand on his Head.--Denouement.--The Brigand Family.--The old Crone.--The Robber Wife.--The Brigand Children.--A Revolution of Feeling.--The main Road.--The Carriage.--In Search of Bob._

Paralyzed with terror, dumb with horror, Bob lay motionless and almost breathless; and the grisly old hag reached out her long, lean, thin, bony, withered, shrivelled hand, and took his hair, while with the other hand she raised her sharp weapon.

She took his hair very lightly and tenderly; so lightly, indeed, that Bob was just conscious of her touch; and though he expected that he would be torn from his bed and struck dead the next instant, yet this fate was delayed.

She took his hair then in her hand very gently and tenderly, and in her other hand she raised the sharp weapon.

Now, the sharp weapon was a pair of sheep-shears.

These shears she held forward, and with them she snipped off, as noiselessly as possible, a lock of Bob's hair.

She pressed the lock of hair to her thin lips, looked at it steadfastly for some time, pressed it once more to her lips, and then put it in the folds of her dress.

Then kneeling by Bob's side, she looked at him long and earnestly. She bent over him, and looked down upon him. She laid the shears upon the floor, clasped her withered hands together, and gazed upon the boy. He lay still. His eyes were closed; but the delay of his fate and the snip of the shears in his hair bad roused him somewhat from his abyss of terror. He opened his eyes wide enough to see what was going on. He could not see the old woman's face, but he saw her kneeling, and he saw her thin hands clasped before her, like one in prayer, and tremulous.

The old woman bent over him; and if Bob could have seen her face he would have known that this old creature was an object of any other feeling rather than fear. Pale it was, that face that was over him, and wrinkled, and emaciated; but there was upon it a softened expression--an expression of yearning and of longing. That which at a distance had seemed to his frightened fancy a hungry, ghoulish look, was now nothing more than the earnest, fixed gaze of a love that longed to be satisfied--a gaze like that of a bereaved mother who sees some one who reminds her of her lost boy, and looks at him with a look of unutterable yearning. So, now, it was with this poor old decrepit creature. Perhaps in her past life some son had been torn from her, of whom Bob reminded her, and she had come now to feast herself with his face, which reminded her of her lost boy, to take a lock of his hair, to bow down over him in speechless emotion. Here, then, she knelt, her poor hands clasping each other tremulously, her aged breast heaving with repressed sighs, while from her weak eyes there fell tears which dropped upon the face of the boy.

Those tears had a wonderful effect.

As Bob's half-opened eyes saw the old woman's attitude, his grisly terror left him; his heart regained its ordinary pulsation; the tremendous pressure that had been upon his soul was removed; warm, and fresh, and free, his young blood sped through his veins, and all his frame was quickened to a bounding life and vigor. By the force of this reaction he was roused from his stony lethargy, his paralysis of horror, and his presence of mind was restored. Then there came those tears which fell upon his face. This completed the recovery of his self-command. It did more. It assured him that he was an object, not of murderous fury, but of tender love, and that the one whom he had feared had come, not with purposes of cruelty, but with yearnings of affection. Why this should be he knew not; he was content to know that it was so; and in this knowledge all fear died out. Bat even now he felt somewhat embarrassed, for the old woman was evidently only giving way to her emotion because she believed him to be asleep; and thus he was an unwilling witness of feelings which she supposed to be seen by none. In this there seemed to be something dishonorable, and he wished the scene to end. He chose to do so therefore by making a few movements without opening his eyes; that is, he changed his position several times, turned himself over and back again, and thus gave signs of waking. Upon this the old woman silently took her lamp and shears, and left the apartment by the way she had come.

So ended the adventure.

The effect produced upon Bob was a varied one. He still felt the consequences of that horror into which he had fallen, that spasm and convulsion of terror which had seemed to turn him to stone, yet the relief that had been found was inexpressibly sweet. In spite of the pain which still lingered about his heart, there came a calmer and happier frame of mind; the pain itself also gradually died out, and its only result was a general languor. So commonplace a termination to what seemed a terrible event made his whole situation and his other prospects seem commonplace, and he even began to think that his captors might turn out to be as commonplace as the old woman.

He fell again into a deep sleep, and did not wake till it was broad day. On descending, the people all respectfully bade him good morning. Breakfast was ready, consisting of black bread, stew, and some coffee. Outside, the view was superb; the rising sun had not yet ascended high enough to shine down into the valley, but the glowing heavens, and the shadows of the mountains, and the light green of the little space nearest, with the darker green of the forests that clothed the mountain-sides, all made the spectacle a memorable one.

Bob's whole state of mind was more healthy, and cheerful, and hopeful than it had been. Everything appeared bright and favorable. The old woman, as he looked at her this morning, did not seem to be at all repulsive. Her face was shrivelled, it is true, and her eyes were weak; but she looked gentle and mild, and treated him with very great favor and attention. The slatternly woman did not seem worse than any other Italian peasant woman. The children were dirty, no doubt; in fact, very dirty; but then they were brown, and healthy, and merry, not inclined to mischief, and quite respectful to him. In short, Bob found himself surveying his situation and its surroundings with much complacency, and he began to feel that he had misjudged these people altogether the night before.

But other things were yet in store which were to redeem still more the character of these people. He was standing outside the house after breakfast, when, to his surprise, he saw the second "brigand" approach. He knew that he had not had time to go to Salerno and return; so he saw that he could not have been to Salerno at all. He seemed to Bob to be going there now, for he was mounted on a donkey, and led another by the bridle. The one which he led was no other than the ass which had carried Bob to this place.

Bob's only thought at seeing this was, that the "brigand" was now setting forth for Salerno, and was about to take the donkey with him, either to sell it, or to return it to the owner, and get a reward. But this idea was not left long in his mind.

The first "brigand" came out, and the two men talked to one another, after which they turned to Bob, and the first brigand explained to him that he was to mount the donkey. He pointed to the animal, smiled, waved his hand towards the road by which Bob had come, and uttered the word "Salerno."

Bob's heart gave a wild leap; he could scarcely believe what he heard; but the faces of the two men were smiling, and they continued to nod, and gesticulate, and repeat the word "Salerno." They looked like two benevolent farmers, and Bob wondered how he could ever have seen anything malignant in their very good natured faces.

Of course there was nothing to do now but to hurry away to his friends. Yet Bob was not willing to take too abrupt a leave. He remembered the old woman, and thought with a softened heart about her emotion. He went back into the house, and shook hands with her for good by. He even knew enough Italian to say "_Addio_." The old creature was much softened and burst into tears. Bob gave her one of his cuff-buttons as a souvenir, for he had nothing else to give, and the cuff-button was an uncommonly elaborate affair; and he had the satisfaction of seeing that the old woman took it as though it was of inestimable value. He then went around among them all, shook hands with all of them, from the slatternly woman down to the smallest of the dirty children, and gave each one of them something--to the woman, a pencil case; to one child, his pocket knife; to another, a watch key; to a third, a shirt stud; to a fourth, a memorandum book; and to the fifth, a handkerchief.

"Brigand" number two was going to accompany him, and it was now evident to Bob that the delay which had taken place in his restoration to his friends was probably owing to the fact that they had to wait to procure bridles, or another donkey. It only remained for him now to bid good by to "brigand" number one, which he did with great earnestness, and cordiality, and fervor; presenting him at the same time with his neck-tie, a very brilliant piece of satin, which the Italian received with a great flourish, and profuse expressions of thankfulness. Bob had several times regretted his ignorance of the Italian language since his arrival in the country, but never had his regrets been more sincere than on this occasion. Had he been able to speak Italian he would have made a speech then and there, and have invited them all, from the old woman down to the smallest child, to come and visit him and his friends either at Salerno, or at Naples, or in far-off America. But alas! Bob's tongue was tied, and so the invitation remained unuttered. He did what he could, however, and utterly exhausted the whole language of signs in the attempt to express to them his thanks, and his good wishes for their happiness. The simple people seemed to comprehend him, for they were by no means dull, and gesticulated in return many things which seemed to convey the same meaning; and when at last Bob rode away, the humble inhabitants watched him until he passed out of sight.

Chapter XI.

_The Return.--The tender Adieus.--Back to Salerno.--On to Castellamare.--A pleasant Scene.--An unpleasant Discovery.--David among the Missing.--Woes of Uncle Moses.--Deliberations over the Situation.--Various Theories.--The Vengeance of the Enemy.--Back to Sorrento in Search of the lost One._

Returning to the main road with his guide, Bob traversed the same way by which his donkey had carried him on the preceding day. His progress now was very different. It would not do to dash furiously down the narrow and steep mountain pathway; so they had to go at a slow pace, until they reached the plain. Bob's animal also had changed. He was no longer the fiery, wild ass of the day before, which had borne him helplessly away from his friends, but a tractable animal, with sufficient spirit, it is true, yet with all the signs of subordination and obedience. He obeyed the slightest touch of the bridle, and moved along after the rider in front of him, as quietly as though he was the most patient and gentle of the donkey tribe.

In two or three hours' time they reached the main road, and turning to the right, rode towards Salerno. Thus far Bob had not noticed much of his surroundings, but now his eyes gazed most eagerly upon the road ahead of him, for he expected to meet his friends. He rightly supposed that they would have driven to Salerno on the preceding day, hoping to find him there, and that they would drive back in search of him at the earliest dawn of another day.

Bob's conjecture turned out to be rights He had not ridden more than a mile when he saw a carriage approaching, which he soon recognized as belonging to his party. In it were his friends, who had recognized him as soon as they had caught sight of him, and whose joy at meeting with him again, and amazement at the sight of his companion, knew no bounds. The carriage stopped, and the boys flung themselves out, and tore Bob from the back of the donkey, and hugged him, and hustled him, and danced about him in their joy. Uncle Moses was not so quick as the others, and held back. Bat if his greeting was last, it was not least fervent, as Bob well knew by the moistened eye, the quivering lip, the tremulous voice, and the convulsive grasp of that venerable relative.

Then and there, on the road, Bob had to satisfy the hungry curiosity of his friends, and give them some sort of an outline of his adventures. The particulars he reserved until a future occasion. Bob's account of his friends in the mountains at once roused the enthusiastic interest of the whole party in their favor, and they all proceeded to shake hands with the Italian. Nor did they content themselves with this, for on the spot Uncle Moses and the boys made up a handsome purse, which they presented to him, not because he deserved it, exactly, but partly because they were so rejoiced at finding the lost boy, and partly on account of Bob's urgent appeal to them. For now Bob's sentiments about the humble people in the sequestered valley had undergone the last phase which was necessary to complete a perfect revolution of feeling; and he had come to regard them not by any means as brigands,--far from it,--but rather as a family of peaceful, innocent, harmless, affectionate, quiet, benevolent, warm-hearted, good-natured, hospitable, and virtuous peasants.

The Italian received the gifts with a series of gesticulations, by which he seemed to be invoking the blessing of Heaven upon them, and vowing endless gratitude; and after the boys and Uncle Moses had one by one shaken hands and bidden him good by, he still stood there, smiling, bowing, and gesticulating; and as they drove away, they saw him standing motionless in the road till they passed out of sight.

Bob's adventures had not been without some serious consequences, for the strain on his mind during the previous day, and especially the horror of the night, combined with the fatigues to which he had been subjected, had been somewhat too much for him. As soon, therefore, as the first excitement of the joyous meeting was over, a reaction took place, and he complained of utter weariness and exhaustion. As Bob was a boy who never complained except under sore pressure, the boys perceived that he was now in need of quiet and repose, and therefore tried to put a check upon their eager curiosity. On reaching Salerno, they put up at the hotel again, and gave Bob the opportunity of a long rest. Had it not been for Bob's adventure, they would by this time have been back in Naples; for their intention had been to go on from Paestum without stopping; but now they were forced to delay somewhat. Still they were anxious to resume the journey back, and as Bob seemed refreshed after a rest and a good repast, Uncle Moses thought they had better set out and go as far as they could before dark. The driver mentioned Castellamare as a convenient stopping-place, and it was thereupon decided to drive on as far as that place, and pass the night there.

They had passed through Castellamare before, when on their way to Sorrento, and again, when returning from that place, on their way to Salerno, so that it seemed quite familiar. But on quitting the carriage and looking out from the windows of the hotel, they were surprised to find how much the beauty of the place was enhanced by this new outlook. Before, they looked at it as hasty travellers, snatching a passing glance; but now they could take a leisurely survey. Before them was the Bay of Naples; on the right, the city with its suburbs, extending far along the shore; on the left, the isle of Capri; in front, the shores of Baiae; while in the rear was the verdant landscape, with a background of mountains, over which reigned supreme the gigantic form of Vesuvius, from whose summit was still floating the wra