urking-places in the mountains.
Even now he was in captivity. And the heart of Uncle Moses yearned
over the poor prisoner. He expressed these fears in a few words,
for he was too agitated to say much.

Clive and David both shook their heads over this, and thought there
was something in it. Both of them now thought that Bob might have
been carried by his donkey to the mountains; and, if so, his capture
by brigands would be almost certain. To them, these mountains
seemed to be full of them; the whole population, in their opinion,
was a community of brigands.

Clive had also another idea. It was this. The driver had deserted
them and had gone off vowing vengeance. He had gone to the mountains,
and returned with a band of brigands to capture all of them. They
had met Bob, seized him, and taken him off.

At all this Frank laughed.

"Pooh!" said he. "I don't see why you should go out of your way to
torment yourselves about nothing at all. It all seems plain enough
to me. The donkey has run off, and intends to keep running till he
drops. There's a long, straight, smooth road before him, and he'll
stick to that without bothering his head about by-roads or mountains.
And if he's obstinate enough, I don't see why he shouldn't keep on
running till he gets to Salerno. And it's my opinion, if we don't
pick him up on the road, well find him at Salerno when we get there."

"O, that's all very well," said Clive, "but think how certain you
were about the driver--"

He was interrupted by the sound of galloping horses and rolling
wheels. The sound came from behind. At once they all turned their
heads. Emerging from behind a torn in the road, they saw two horses
galloping at full speed, and drawing a carriage. The driver was
whipping the horses furiously, and calling and shouting. The carriage
was empty. In a moment they recognized the truth. It was their
carriage and their driver.

They all stood still, and looked in surprise, and the carriage
rolled swiftly up. The driver at once stopped the horses, and jumped
to the ground. Then, coming to the boys, he burst forth into a
strain of the most profuse and vehement apologies. He implored
them to forgive him, and began to explain the cause of his absence
from the place where they had left him.

It seems that he found this place an inconvenient one, and had
driven across the fields for about half, a mile, to some trees.
Here he had taken his horses out, and allowed them to feed. He