Jack Harkaway and His Son's Escape from the Brigands of Greece Part 78

"Oh, nothing; I was only thinking."

"What were you thinking?"

"Why, if I had half your chance of getting on in life, you would never have found me here."

"What do you mean? Are you ashamed of your comrades?"

"No, no, not me," said Martin; "but I should be if I was you. You're a swell, and it's an awful drop for you. I'm only a poor devil--a n.o.body, and it's a rise in life for me to join your honorable company; give us your hand."

And then, before he could say yea or nay, the new recruit seized Hunston by the hand and wrung it with real or affected warmth.

Hunston strode moodily away, hanging his head.

This singular individual, Geoffrey Martin, appeared greatly interested in the fate of the unfortunate boys, young Jack and Harry Girdwood, and he got Boulgaris to take him to the spot where the crosses had been erected over the graves by the pious hand of Theodora, the girl who had unwittingly lured them to the fatal trap.

"So here you have buried them?" said Geoffrey Martin.

"Yes, poor boys," said Boulgaris.

"Poor boys," echoed Martin in surprise, "poor boys."

"Yes, I see no reason for butchering two children, for they were little more."

The new brigand eyed the speaker rather curiously.

"Have you any pity to spare for Harkaway's boy?"

"And why not?" said Boulgaris. "True, Harkaway's our enemy, and I hate him; I'd like to get the upper hand of him; but we don't want to fight boys. Besides, Harkaway is a good sort of enemy; a bold, daring fellow, not a sneak."

"No, that he isn't," said Geoffrey Martin, with warmth.

"I am sure he'd never murder a boy because the boy's father had wronged him."

"True."

"Besides, there is something in this Hunston I don't like. We are bad enough in all conscience, but this brutal butchery will, perhaps be the ruin of our band."

"Why?"

"Well, we were not loved before; but this brutal deed will make us execrated by the whole country. The government scarcely dare to molest us; they are satisfied at keeping up a show of doing something. But Harkaway is rich and powerful, I am told; English money and English influence will force the government to pursue us, and all for what?

Why, for murdering two helpless children, who had done us no wrong; who fell into a trap while saving the life of one of us."

Geoffrey Martin opened his eyes in astonishment.

"Is that true?"

"Yes. Didn't you know the story?"

"No."

"It was the daughter of one of our old comrades, that the boys saved while sailing. Poor girl! If prayers and tears could move men's hearts, hers should have saved the boys."

Geoffrey Martin coughed and blew his nose loudly.

"Ahem!" he said, staring at Boulgaris. "You are a soft-hearted fellow for a brigand."

"Not exactly that either," replied Boulgaris, grinning. "I feel incensed at this deed for its brutality, and for exposing all the band to risks and dangers for the sole purpose of gratifying their revenge."

"Theirs; you mean Hunston's?"

"No; for Toro was interested also in it."

"Toro, Toro," muttered Martin; "why, the name sounds, familiar to me.

Of course. They knew this Toro in Italy, I remember. He was one of a band that Harkaway and his friend Harvey exterminated."

"It is true, then, about that band?" said Boulgaris, his eyes flashing eagerly.

"Of course."

"You see, then, from that, what cause we have to dread arousing the enmity of such a man as this Harkaway."

"He is an awkward customer, and that's the fact of it; and I have heard, my brave Boulgaris, that if Harkaway once says he will have revenge, he never fails. Now, let's return."

Back they went together, and as they neared the brigands' camp, they perceived signs of some great commotion,

"What is the matter now?" asked Boulgaris.

"Come with us," replied the first man, "and I will show you."

They silently followed.

Down one of the slopes and then through a narrow pa.s.s, and within five minutes' run of the brigands' stronghold, they came upon a number of their men gathered around a long figure stretched upon the ground and covered with a cloak.

The brigand who had brought them there silently drew back the cloak, and showed that the figure was the corpse of one of their comrades who had been on guard there.

"Look, another of our men killed. His death, like the first, has been sudden."

A sure, swift hand had pinned him through the body with a long dagger.

It had pierced his heart, and the point of the blade actually protruded near his shoulder-blade.

"Look there," cried one of the brigands,

"Where?"

"At the handle."

Fastened to the haft of the dagger was a slip of paper, upon which were these words--