YOUNG JACK IN TROUBLE--THE COUNCIL--DOOM OF THE BOYS--A
SOLDIER'S GRAVE AT DAYBREAK.
Young Jack and Harry Girdwood, who by their friends are supposed to
have been grievously ill-treated, found themselves dragged by rough and
brutal hands to a considerable distance from the shore where they had
unfortunately landed.
The boy whom young Jack had rescued, and who decoyed them to their
ruin, disappeared at once.
"Jack," said Harry Girdwood, when recovered from the first shock, "we
are done for."
"No mistake about that," returned young Jack, gloomily.
"Well, well, it is no fault of ours; that is some consolation."
"A precious poor consolation, since here we are."
"Yes."
Here they were interrupted by their captors.
"Move on!"
The voice was Hunston's, and that sufficed for young Jack to show signs
of opposition.
Vain obstacle.
The ruffians were only glad of the slightest pretext for further
brutality.
"We are quite comfortable where we are," said young Jack.
"Insolent brat!" said Hunston contemptuously. "You shall be birched
well for that."
The colour mounted to the boy's face in spite of himself.
"You can threaten in safety, fellow," said young Harkaway, turning and
facing their old enemy, "since you have so many backers to protect
you."
Hunston grew livid.
"You wretched spawn of a hated race," he ejaculated between his teeth,
"do you dare speak to me?"
"There is not much daring required," retorted Jack, boldly.
The words were barely uttered when Hunston dealt the boy a buffet which
nearly sent him to the earth; but young Jack was pretty prompt in
returning it.
This was a kind of debt which the Harkaways were not long in
acquitting.
Quick as lightning recovering himself, he turned and leapt upon
Hunston, and taking him unexpectedly, he toppled him over and fell upon
him, clutching him by the throat.
"Now I'll show you what it is to lay your dirty ringers on a Harkaway,"
exclaimed the boy, glaring into the other's face.
"Let go, or--"
"My father trounced you before he was my age" cried the boy excitedly,
"and now I'll finish you that you--"
But he was not allowed to complete his threat.
Rough and muscular hands dragged him off.
Else had Hunston fared badly.
It was all momentary, but no sooner had the brigands perceived their
comrade to be in danger than they seized hold of the young prisoner and
dragged him off.
Hunston sprang to his feet, and knife in hand rushed upon the boy, but
the others interfered and placed themselves between the boy and the
man.
"Come, Hunston," said one of the men, "let him alone."
"But he has struck me."
"You provoked it."
"What then? Shall I take a blow from such as he?"
"You were wrong to strike a child--a child too that is unarmed."
Hunston hung his head at this way of putting it.
"No matter; he shall die for this."
"Perhaps so; but meanwhile, there is possibility of ransom. The
interests of the band can not be allowed to suffer for you."
Hunston was silent.
He sheathed his knife, but his silent resolves were not less murderous
for being unuttered.
"Lead the way, Simon," said the brigand who appeared to be chief
spokesman.
Simon stepped onward, and behind him young Jack and Harry were forced
to march.
They were walking into captivity, but they could not help themselves;
and so they wisely obeyed, so as not to give their captors fresh excuse
for further barbarity.
The road which Simon led them was a gloomy and narrow defile that wound
precipitously up among the hills.
Sometimes the rocks overhung the road, so that the sky was barely
visible, and here and there heaven was altogether obscured, for they
had to walk through tunnels in the solid rock--too solid apparently to
have been worked by the hand of man.
On they walked upon the gloomy track, the silence only broken by the
echo of their own footfalls.
Any thing so desolate our boys had never beheld.
A dull settled feeling of loneliness and despair fell upon the two boy
prisoners.
After journeying in this way for about two miles they came unexpectedly
(to them--for of course Simon the guide knew where he was leading the
party) upon a circular opening among the hills, beneath which was what
appeared to be a table land of dark earth or peat.
"A swamp," said Harry Girdwood.
"It looks like a bog," said young Jack, "but yet I can see something
moving."
"It is water."
"A lake."
"Yes."
"How black--how dismal it looks."
It did, indeed.
Silent and gloomy, like a table of metal, spread the darkling waters of
this strange lake.
Wild and desolate was it in the extreme.
On every side it was enclosed by towering heights, bare, treeless and
solemn.
Both boys were plainly impressed with the dull solemnity of the scene.
"What does that look like?" said young Jack, in a low voice to his
companion.
"I don't know--Lerna, the famous marsh, near Argos."
"No; it was there that Hercules killed the Hydra, wasn't it?"
"Yes."
"I should like to think that it was like that," he said, glancing
around at the brigands about them.
"And that you or we might emulate the example of Hercules."
"Ah, yes."
"But our enemies are more than hydra-headed."
The other glanced eagerly about him before he spoke.
"It is a question; I should almost sooner run a good deal of risk than
be marched quietly off."
Now at this present juncture there was a signal from the topmost hills,
and upon a trumpet note being blown in answer by one of the brigands,
dark, dusky forms appeared upon every side.
Men sprang up in the rocky hills all round the dark waters of the lake,
as promptly as the kilted savages responded to the summons of their
chieftain, Rob Roy Macgregor Campbell.
Whatever wild fancies the two boy prisoners might have had in their
minds, this startling phenomenon effectually drove them away.
And fortunate it was, too, for them.
Hunston called a halt.
The men were nothing loth.
The road they had traversed was steep and rugged, and it had perhaps
told less upon the two boy prisoners than upon any of the party.
The brigands sat and refreshed.
They made a hearty meal of cold meat and coarse bread and herbs, and
they drank of their wine from the skins until their swarthy faces
flushed purple; and whilst they feasted and made merry, the captives
were constrained to look on--in envy perhaps--but not to share the
banquet.
Hunger fell upon them.
But the boys guessed that their sufferings would only give pleasure to
their captors, and so they kept their troubles in this particular to
themselves.
"Tighten your belt," said Harry Girdwood; "squeeze your stomach, Jack,
and don't let these wolves see that we are peckish."
"Not me."
Taking the hint, Jack drew in a reef.
The two young comrades were, in reality, not much improved by this
movement; but they thought they were, and imagination goes a great way.
But hunger is an intruder whose importunities there is no denying for
any length of time, and so it fell out that, in spite of their brave
and manful efforts at keeping up each other's pluck and spirit, he
gnawed at their vitals in a way which reduced not only their stamina,
but their spirits.
"This is to be our prison," said Harry Girdwood gloomily; "I feared it
would be."
"It is rather like the Lethe than anything else," said young Jack,
pointing to the silent water below. "If we remain here long, we shall
forget all that has gone before, you may be sure. This is the place to
drive us out of our wits more than any spot we could imagine."
"Rather the Styx than the Lethe," said Harry; "banish all hope who
enter here."
It was indeed a spot to evoke gloomy reflections, and the boys were in
a frame of mind to indulge in such.
This place, they found, was fixed upon as the camp of the brigands, who
had felt it imperative to change their headquarters, since they had
positive proof that their old stronghold was known to their enemies.
Here they were not in danger of surprise, for their men commanded every
outlet, and it must be a rare chance to take them by surprise.
Within a couple of hours of the arrival there of the two boy prisoners
and their captors, the whole of the band sauntered down in twos and
threes, until the vast host that they formed fairly amazed young Jack
and his companion.
"Let us fix a sum on them," said Toro, "so that their parents and
friends may release them if they wish."
This was approved of by one and all of his hearers.
There was only a single dissentient voice.
This was Hunston's.
"If you attempt to temporise," he said, "you will be beaten, for sure."
"Why?"
"Beaten by whom?"
"Harkaway."
"Bah!"
"Such is my experience of him," returned Hunston.
"Nonsense; why shouldn't we make sure of the money if we can?"
"Why not?" said Hunston; "if we can, which I doubt."
"Harkaway is a most affectionate parent, I know well," said Ymeniz; "I
have heard it from a dozen different sources. Once let him know that
his son and the other boy are in danger, and he will pay any money for
their release."
"Well." said Toro, "let us say five hundred pounds."
"Five hundred?"
"Yes."
"Not enough."
"How much is five hundred pounds?" demanded Ymeniz.
"Twelve thousand, five hundred francs," replied Toro.
"Very good, very good; a fair sum."
"Is it not?"
"How shall we claim it?"
This question was put to the assembled council generally, and answered
eagerly by Hunston.
"Let me do that?"
"Very good, Hunston; be yours that task."
"But remember our old friend Tomaso is still in the power of these
cursed English."
Toro paused, and from all the band arose the unanimous cry--
"Tomaso must be rescued or be avenged!"
Hunston addressed himself to the business with considerable interest.
It is not necessary for me to go through the correspondence which took
place, nor to dilate upon the ingenious manner in which the letters
were delivered by Hunston or his emissaries.
With his wonted shrewdness, he watched for the result of his last
threatening letter himself, and after making the most careful
observations, he descended to the appointed spot and fetched the letter
containing the money.
The five hundred pounds were there, in five Bank of England notes of
one hundred each.
"Five hundred pounds," he said, his vicious eyes glistening as he
touched the crisp new notes, "five hundred pounds! Heaven, what a sum!"
He looked about him.
He was alone.
Not a soul in sight.
"Why should I share it?" he said; "why should it not all be mine?"
Why indeed?
Because he feared his lawless companions.
Nothing more.
"I'll take up a hundred, one hundred," he muttered, half aloud, "and
this shall serve a double purpose. The four hundred shall remain mine,
and the one hundred theirs, But seeing that they can get nothing out of
Harkaway, they will be the more easily worked upon, and I shall achieve
all I want at one stroke; a noble notion."
Back he went, and then began a comedy which Hunston went through like a
veteran actor, a comedy that was destined to have a tragic finale.
"Toro," said Hunston to the Italian, "to you I may speak as the leader
of these brave fellows; also to you, comrades in general, I may talk
without fear of my motives being in any way misconstrued."
"Speak on."
"Here is the reply of the cold-blooded Englishman Harkaway to my demand
for ransom, and you are all my witness that I did not exact a very
unreasonable sum."
"No, no."
"What says he?"
"He sends this," returned Hunston, holding up a single hundred pound
note: "one hundred pounds--two thousand, five hundred francs--in a
word, one-fifth of the sum we demanded, and with it a letter."
A murmur of indignation followed.
"What does the letter say?" they demanded.
"He defies us; he offers this sum, but says that if the boys are not
released before sunrise, he will come and fetch them."
"Let him come."
"So say I; but what shall be done with the boys meanwhile?"
A momentary silence followed; then came the deep stern words--
"Let them die."
This speaker was Toro.
The Italian's words were eagerly caught up.
"Aye, let them die; but when?"
"When you will," said Hunston; "I care not, so that we are lid of them.
We see clearly that there is no counting upon these Harkaway people for
the ransom set down by us, however reasonable our demands may be."
"True."
"Then, I say, let them die to-day."
"Impossible," said one of the brigands, stepping forth.
"Why?"
"Because the traitor, Lirico, is to die at daybreak; we can't have two
executions so near to each other. Let them all die together."
"Lirico," said Hunston, "and why has he to die? I haven't heard in what
he has offended."
"A hateful thing," was the reply of his informant; "Lirico has offended
against the foundation rule of the band."
"How?"
"He has kept to himself the booty he has gained, and our law is that
any member of the band who shall conceal his booty, or any part or
fragment of the same, to the prejudice of his comrades and fellows
shall die the death of a traitor."
Hunston was silent.
But had anybody been watching him closely then, they would have noticed
that he changed colour.
It was an unpleasant topic to tackle the English ruffian upon, after
all that had just taken place.
"Why so silent, comrade?" said an old brigand named Boulgaris, staring
Hunston full in the face; "do you not approve?"
"Of what?"
"Of the law."
"I--of course."
"Of course you do," said Boulgaris boldly; "why, you would be the first
to approve. Who could approve more of such a law than you, honest
Hunston?"
"Who, indeed?"
Hunston winced under the cool scrutiny of the Greek.
Did he know aught about what had taken place?
The idea was utterly absurd.
He (Hunston) had taken too much care that he was not observed for any
vulgar pryer like Boulgaris to find a corner from which to spy upon his
movements.
Still it gave him a qualm.
"Quite right," said Hunston, boldly; "quite right and just; any man who
can play false to his fellows deserves to die the death."
"Hear, hear! Let him die."
"And the two boys shall die with him?" asked Boulgaris.
"They shall, at daybreak."
This was put to the assembled throng, and agreed to by all, when
suddenly a single dissentient voice was heard.
"They shall not die."
The brigands looked up, and a boy appeared upon the scene, the boy who
had lured the luckless lads to their present unlucky pitch.
"Theodora."
"Aye, Theodora," responded the boy--or rather girl--for a girl it was,
as you have long since discovered, although in male attire.
"And why shall they not die, Theodora?" asked Hunston.
"Ask rather why they should die?" she said sadly. "What have they done
to merit death?"
"Hullo, hullo!" ejaculated Toro.
"Why, whatever is the meaning of this change of tone? I thought that
you, like all others, were most eager for revenge."
"Why?"
"Why? Need I already remind you of the ample cause for vengeance which
we all have?"
"No," returned Theodora, calmly. "But those boys are innocent of
harm."
"Then why did you lure them to their destruction?"
The woman sighed.
"Ah, why indeed?"
"Yes, why?"
"I was wicked, cruel, base, deceptive," she replied; "words cannot
paint my wickedness. But I was punished for my badness by peril such as
I have never yet known; and when really running a danger which I
thought but to affect the better to lure our destined victims to their
doom, I was rescued from the grave by them, by the very boys--brave,
brave boys--whom I sought to destroy. Now," she added, turning bodily
to the assembled brigands, "can you ask me why I have changed my tone?"
A dozen voices were heard at once, and all uttered different
sentiments.
"These prisoners are mine by right," said Theodora, "for I have taken
them, I have brought them here; it is for me to dispose of them."
Some few of the brigands agreed to this; but the majority, overruled by
Toro and Hunston, denied her jurisdiction altogether in the matter.
The girl made a passionate appeal to the assembled brigands. But all in
vain.
They were resolved.
It was put to the vote, and the result was easily foreseen.
Death.
Death by a majority of voices as of ten to one.
"Death at the gibbet," exclaimed Hunston, triumphantly.
"Aye, aye."
"Nay," cried the girl, with superhuman energy, "these two poor boys
have shown themselves better men than most here present. See how they
bear their fate. Be men, then, and if they must die, let them die like
soldiers."
An animated discussion ensued on this, and finally it was agreed that
the hapless boys should die next morning with the traitor Lirico.