the bandits and, if none took part in or broke into
their chief's talk, usually two or more lay or sat about listening and
sharing our interview.

In the course of our talk Bulla discoursed of his importance, of the
importance of the band, of the warm regard in which he and they were held
by their head chief, the King of the Highwaymen.

Some quirk inside my head made me venturesome.

"What is his name?" I queried. "You never name him."

"His orders!" Bulla snapped. "I know his name; not another man of our band
knows it. He never uses it and takes great pains to keep all outsiders who
know his name from suspecting that he is King of the Highwaymen; and
similarly to make sure that all outsiders who know him as King of the
Highwaymen get no inkling of his name. If the knowledge got abroad the
usefulness to him of his brother and sister in Rome would be destroyed."

I apologized for my question.

"No harm done," Bulla smiled. "I don't have to answer any questions unless
I want to, and I don't mind questions from you."

"If you don't," I pursued, emboldened, "perhaps you'll be willing to
explain how it can be that your king holds you and your band in such high
esteem, whereas, to all appearances, you have not acquired a sesterce-
worth of loot since long before I reached this neighborhood; in fact, as
far as I can hear, have not succeeded in robbing anyone since you located
your camp here?"

"I am perfectly willing to explain," laughed Bulla, looking more
formidable when he smiled or laughed than when expressionless. "We are no
cheap bandits to rob market-women, poor farmers, ordinary travellers or
such small fry. We angle for bigger fish. We bide our time. We are here to
make three big strokes and then a quick disappearance. Once we have our
hands on our chosen prisoners to be held for ransom we shall be off for
the mountain heights and the thickest forests; once we have the booty we
hope for, those in charge of it will ride fast and far and get clear out
of this part of Italy. Is that intelligible?"

"Entirely," said I, and was mute.

Bulla gazed at me almost genially.

"I don't in the least mind telling you," he said, "just what we are
waiting for. Half the countryside knows and are alert to help us all they
know how.

"In the first place we have word of a big consignment of gold on the way
to Rome; ingots from the mines in the mountains of Noricum, nuggets and
dust washed from the rivers of Dacia and Panno