Jack Harkaway and His Son's Escape from the Brigands of Greece Part 56

Presently they were rewarded for their pains by detecting a faint breathing.

"How white his neck is," said Harry Girdwood.

"And how small and delicate his hands," said young Jack.

"One would almost take him for a woman."

"He'd pa.s.s very well for one if he wore petticoats."

"I'm almost inclined as it is to think that--"

"Ha! He's coming round."

The youth opened his eyes and stared about him.

He looked half scared at first one and then the other.

"You are better now," said young Jack, taking his hand.

He stared.

Jack had spoken in English in his anxiety.

He put the same sentiment into the best Greek he could muster.

"Yes, yes," replied the stranger, "better, better," and then he appeared to grow more and more confused; "but what is this? Have I been ill?"

"Yes."

"Ah!"

"Not very; it is all well now. Don't you remember--"

The rocking of the boat furnished the missing link in the chain of memory, and the rescued boy showed, by a ray of intelligence in his bright face, that it had all come back to him.

A smile of grateful acknowledgment of their services shot over his countenance.

Then suddenly his expression changed.

"Where are we going?" he demanded, with the most extraordinary eagerness.

"Ash.o.r.e."

"Oh, no, no, no!" he exclaimed; "not ash.o.r.e here."

"Why not?"

"You must not go ash.o.r.e here," said the youth, eagerly, "not for worlds."

"Why?"

Jack was questioning the stranger while Harry Girdwood shot the boat into a favourable creek.

Harry jumped out.

"Come along," he said cheerfully.

"Safe on sh.o.r.e."

"And precious glad of it," added young Jack.

The stranger looked upon him in anxious expectation, and finding they were alone, he turned eagerly to his young preservers.

"Put off again," he said; "put out to sea, I tell you."

"Why?"

"You have disarmed me; you have saved my life and shown me tenderness and care--aye, brotherly love. Oh," he added earnestly, "pray go now; at once, while you are free."

"Well," quoth young Jack, with a long whistle, "this is a rum go."

Before another word could be spoken, there was heard a whistle, which sounded like the echo of young Jack's note; an answer came from another direction, and half-a-dozen men sprang forward from no one could see where, and pounced upon our two bold boys, Jack and Harry Girdwood.

"Bravo, Theodora!" cried a familiar voice in English, "you play the part of decoy to perfection. We have got them at last."

Young Jack started.

He turned pale and haggard, looking in a moment to Harry.

"Do you know that voice?"

"I do," replied Harry Girdwood.

"We are sold, undone. It is the villain Hunston."

It was but a little while after young Jack and Harry Girdwood had been entrapped, when a strange scene took place.

Evening was coming on.

Brigand sentinels had been posted at each path by which their haunt could be approached, and one was perched high above on a flat rock, which overlooked everything, without having seen himself except by the very sharpest of eyes.

Hunston, after visiting the outposts and seeing that everything was safe for the night, climbed up to this spot, and seated himself on a large stone.

He felt feverish, and at that elevation he might feel something of the breeze, a thing unknown down below at the bivouac, which was closely surrounded by thick bushes.

Strange dreads and doubts filled Hunston's mind, dread of the future, dread of a lingering illness through his arm, which daily grew worse, dread of death, which he felt convinced must be the end, and doubts whether eventually his enemy Harkaway would not triumph.