A SURPRISE AND A REVELATION
Helmar had not proceeded more than fifty yards when his worst fears
were realized. He had dodged his way along the tortuous footpath
until, nearing an open space, he saw ahead of him his companions
surrounded by a small group of dusky, evil-looking men.
"Gipsies!" he exclaimed, and counted six of them, all armed with
heavy sticks, and with knives stuck in their belts. Their voices
were raised to a high pitch, and, jabbering in infuriated tones,
they flourished their weapons in the faces of their two prisoners.
Helmar stood gazing at them for a few seconds. Suddenly he saw one
of the men, judging by his size the leader, step up to Mark and
make as though to search him. The instant his hand touched him,
Mark's fist shot out like lightning, and striking the fellow on the
point of the chin, felled him to the ground.
This was the signal for a general _melee_. George caught a glimpse
of steel as the men closed on their victims, then without waiting
for anything further, he gave one ringing cheer, and bounding into
the open, brandished his club aloft as he dashed into the struggling
mob.
The suddenness of his attack for an instant paralyzed the would-be
murderers, and ere they had time to recover, he was laying about him
with all the power at his command. In a moment two men fell, and as
their heavy sticks slipped from their hands, Mark and Charlie seized
them and ranged themselves at Helmar's side.
The fight now waxed furious, the odds were heavily against the
adventurers, and the issue looked doubtful. The noise had brought
another man on the scene, and Helmar saw that to save themselves he
must resort to strategy.
Singling out one man, he attacked him with such agility and force
that he gradually beat him back from the rest. The new-comer seeing
this, went to the fellow's assistance and endeavoured to stab our
hero from behind. George, however, was not to be caught napping.
Redoubling his exertions and by constantly dodging he kept his
adversaries in front of him, until, at last, he succeeded in
dealing the man a terrible blow on his shoulder.
Down he went with a crash, and the other, fearing a similar fate,
fled precipitately into the bush. Helmar now turned to see how his
companions fared.
The odds here were three to two, and his friends were keeping the
men at bay. Without a moment's hesitation, George rushed into the
fray, and, setting to work with a will, quickly stretched one of the
gipsies out, whereupon the others beat a hasty retreat.
"Quick, boys, make for the river before they come on again! They
haven't done with us yet! Follow me!" And he led the way into the
path by which he had come.
Mark and Charlie needed no second bidding, but followed as swiftly
as their legs could carry them. They were not a moment too soon, for
as they disappeared into the bush, the brigands, further reinforced,
again appeared on the scene.
It now became a question as to whether they could reach the boat in
time to get it into the water before the enemy were upon them.
Helmar calculated this as he sped along, and quickly realized that
the task would be hopeless. Calling to his friends, he told them to
run on and launch the boat, and he would join them as soon as it was
accomplished.
[Illustration: "As the leader made an attempt to get over the bough,
Helmar swung his heavy club at him." p. 27]
"But," said Charlie, "you cannot face them single-handed. Let Mark
go to the boat, and I will remain with you."
"No, no, run on for your lives and mine. When the boat is launched,
keep her a few yards out from the bank and wait for me. Hurry up;
here they come."
Thus exhorted, Mark and Osterberg ran on without further demur, and
Helmar followed them until he reached the edge of the camping-ground.
Here he seized the bough from which he had broken his club, and
flung it across the pathway, and stood waiting the approach of the
brigands.
In a moment the leader came up, and, seeing the resolute Helmar
awaiting him on the other side of the barrier, he paused. It was
only momentary, however, and as the rest of the gipsies joined him,
the whole party, now six in number, rushed at the solitary defender.
In that momentary pause, however, Helmar had heard the crunching
sound of the boat sliding into the water, followed by the welcome
shout of "all right" from his friends. He intended to hold the men
at bay for just a few moments longer, so as to give his companions
time to get well into the stream. The charge of the gipsies in a
body was evidently intended to overwhelm him by numbers. As the
leader made an attempt to get over the bough, Helmar swung his heavy
club at him, and the fellow fell back. Then, seeing another clear
his obstruction to his right, and not having time to defend himself
from his attack, he flung his trusty weapon at him and, turning, ran
towards the river. Without pausing to see if he was pursued, he
plunged headlong into the river, and struck out from the shore.
Everything had worked beautifully. As he came to the surface and
looked round, he saw the boat at a safe distance from the shore, and
he swam quickly towards it. Reaching it his companions quickly
hauled him aboard, and, looking towards the bank, he saw the
brigands standing at the water's edge wildly gesticulating and
shouting execrations at the top of their voices.
"They seem pretty wild," ventured Osterberg, as the boat quickly
widened the distance from the shore, "you just came in the nick of
time, George; I believe they intended killing us."
"Yes, you fellows should have waited, instead of rushing off as you
did to see who they were. Confound it, I've lost my coat, to say
nothing of cooking utensils; however, it's all over now. We've had a
lucky escape; I hope it'll be a lesson."
They quickly set sail, and decided to keep on their way all that
night rather than risk such another encounter. Mark said little
about it, except to bemoan the fact that they would in future have
to sleep in the boat, a proceeding which had become particularly
distasteful to him.
After this the journey went on without incident. They passed the
cataracts in safety and on to Belgrade, at which point they
encountered a series of rapids. The river here was shut in by lofty
hills on either side, and was strewn with rocky shoals of limestone,
crystalline, and granite, so that the greatest care had to be
observed in navigating them. After many anxious hours, the last of
these was passed and they began to near their journey's end.
Altogether they had been a month in their little craft, and the
monotony of it all, in spite of the beautiful scenery and
picturesque country through which they passed, was beginning to tell
on the voyagers. They were becoming irritable and pettish. Mark
Arden had on several occasions made himself particularly
disagreeable--airing his views as to the wanton waste of time which
their journey had been, in no very measured terms.
"What did you expect?" asked George, on one of these occasions. "Did
you think we were going for a picnic? Or did you think some one
would pull us along? It's no use complaining now. Look at it in a
philosophical light. See what a splendid experience it is for us! It
will harden us for what may be in front of us."
"But it's such a dreary journey, no change, no variety, no
amusement," grumbled Mark.
"I'll admit it's a bit of a grind," chimed in Charlie. "But what
change and variety is got out of it falls to you. You have your own
way about provisions, and what is more, you always have the
pleasant journey into the villages to obtain them. Besides which,
you frequently have the distinction of entertaining the company," he
went on, in a jocular way. "For instance, I think it was as good as
a play to see you yesterday with your rod, trying to catch our
breakfast. If I hadn't been on the look-out, you'd have had George
by the eye instead of the fish by the gills."
"You shall try your hand at it to-morrow, and we'll see what a
figure you'll cut," he said almost irritably.
George got a little annoyed at this, and did not hesitate to show
it.
"I'm sure," he said, "we've given you all the best of it. The whole
fact of the matter is, you are discontented already and ought to be
back at the University, where you can get everything done for you.
I'll tell you what it is, if you are going to make any more fuss,
you'd better leave us and go back. I'm sick of it."
"You needn't get in a huff," Mark replied, half apologetically; "a
fellow couldn't help feeling the dreariness of this journey. There's
nothing but this constant sitting in a boat and drifting down the
river."
"Well, what more do you want?" said Charlie. "I'm sure I don't mind.
This is a sort of paradise to what we shall probably have to go
through."
"I'll tell you what we'll do," said Helmar suddenly; "we are all a
bit tired of the river. The next decent town we come to we'll get
out and take the train on to Varna. How'll that do?"
His proposal was met with delight by both of his companions, and the
surly Mark even cheered up. The thought of getting away from the
boat overjoyed him, and he grumbled no more.
Their journey, however, was to end sooner than they expected. They
were fast nearing a big town when the wind, which was blowing very
hard, suddenly changed its direction. As they rounded a bend in the
river, it came down with a rush, and before they could throw their
sail over to the other tack the boat capsized, and all three were
struggling in the water.
Helmar was the best swimmer, and endeavoured to seize the boat, but
it was swept along at such a rapid pace that he was unable to do so,
and as he was about to follow it up a cry from Mark recalled him.
Turning, he saw his companion entangled in some of the loose ropes
trailing after the boat.
It was with difficulty he extricated him, and by the time he had
done so Mark was so exhausted with his struggles that the pursuit of
the boat had to be abandoned, and the three made for the shore.
Everything but Helmar's money was lost, and as they sat on the bank,
shivering in their wet clothes, they gazed ruefully after the
rapidly disappearing boat.
"Well," said Helmar in resigned tones, "you've got your wish,
Arden, we must now find another means of conveyance, and in the
meantime you will get a chance of stretching your legs."
Arden didn't reply, and the trio got up and walked towards the
distant town. Night was already closing in when they reached it, and
cold, hungry, and tired, they hurried to the first inn that
presented itself.
Their clothes had almost dried on them, and so without bothering to
have them put to the fire, they had supper and went to bed. The next
morning at Helmar's suggestion they took the train to Varna on the
Black Sea, determined, from there, to take ship to Constantinople.
At Varna it became necessary for Helmar to change some of his money
into Turkish currency.
"I want you to get this money changed, Mark," said he, when they
alighted from the train; "you are better able to do it than I, I do
not understand the ways of these money bureaux. There is sure to be
one somewhere handy. While you do this, Charlie and I will seek an
hotel, and then return here and await you."
He handed Arden some notes as he spoke, carefully counting them out
to him lest he should make a mistake.
"The exchequer is getting low," he went on, as he saw his companion
pocket them; "that is half of my all, and is just sufficient to see
us all three to Constantinople."
"Is it as bad as that?" said Mark, looking keenly at Helmar as he
spoke. "It's not a very lively look-out for us. Well, I'll meet you
here in a couple of hours' time. I dare say by that time I shall
have succeeded in changing them, and you in finding a suitable
hotel." And he turned to go.
"Yes, we'll be here in the ticket-office when you return," Helmar
called out after him; "don't be longer than you can help."
As soon as he had gone, Charlie Osterberg and Helmar left in search
of quarters.
"This is the queerest place I was ever in, Helmar," said Charlie, as
they turned into a narrow, unevenly-paved street. "These buildings
all look as if they were about to collapse--and don't they look
dirty!"
"Eh? What was that you were saying?" replied his companion. "Oh,
yes--the houses--'m, I dare say they aren't over-clean. I say,
Charlie, I'm half sorry I sent Arden with that money, somehow I wish
I'd gone myself."
"Why, what do you mean? He'll change it right enough."
"Oh, yes, he'll change it right enough--but----"
"But what?"
"Oh, nothing. Do you know, I don't care much about him, he's such a
grumbler," he broke off lamely.
Nothing more was said, and after a long hunt they at last discovered
a hotel suitable to their means. It was a dingy-looking place, but,
as Helmar said, "they couldn't live in a palace." Having struck a
bargain with the proprietor they returned to the railway station in
search of Mark.
The ticket-office seemed quite deserted when they entered. One dim
light illuminated the room, and they glanced round for their friend.
There was no one there--evidently he had not yet succeeded in his
task.
"Let's go and wait outside," said Helmar, "the heat in here is
stifling. I expect he's had a more difficult job than we
anticipated."
The two friends strolled from the office and sat down on a bench
just outside. They had not been there for more than a minute, when a
boy, dressed in half-European and half-native costume approached.
"Excellency waits for his friend?" he asked in hesitating tones.
Helmar eyed the youth up and down.
"Well?" he said at last.
"I have paper--what you call letter!"
He handed a dirty envelope to Helmar, and bowing low, waited for the
expected _douceur_.
The letter was addressed to Helmar in Mark's handwriting. He tore it
open and rapidly scanned the contents.
"The scoundrel!" he cried, and flung the letter to Osterberg.