not think him missing before
to-morrow night: at that time, the English lord and his friends, and the
little lords, will be all dead men if the ransom be not paid."

"What on earth shall I do, Buncombe?" asked dad of the captain. "Shall
I write an order on my bankers for the money to be sent? One hundred
thousand piastres will be about five thousand pounds--I don't know
whether my credit will be good for that amount?"

"Your credit and mine will be sufficient," Captain Buncombe said; "one
can't trifle with these fellows, for the villains keep their word, I'm
told."

The guide again spoke by the chief's order to dad, as if the tenor of
the captain's words were understood.

"The Albanian chief declares that if the ransom be not paid by sunset
to-morrow at latest, every one of you shall be shot, and your heads cut
off and sent back to Athens in token of your fate."

"Ugh!" said Mr Moynham, shuddering; "I certainly have been a Tory
throughout all my life, but I should not like to follow Charles the
First's example."

"I declare it's disgraceful," said Captain Buncombe; "I'll apply to the
ambassador. This brigandage is the curse of Greece. I'll--"

"That won't help us now," said dad. "I suppose we must write for the
ransom, although under protests; for, however much we have to pay, we
must remember that our lives are in jeopardy; and that's the main
consideration."

The advice was good; so, a joint letter was despatched to certain
influential friends, as well as dad's banker at Athens, urging that the
ransom should be sent in a certain way, to be handed over, as the
brigand chief arranged, as we were given up, so that there should be no
treachery on either side. The false guides then went off cheerfully
down hill towards the plains, whilst our cavalcade, encompassed by the
brigands, moved towards those mountain fastnesses, "where they resided
when they were at home," as Mr Moynham said.

Up and down hill and dale, we seemed in the darkness to be penetrating
miles into the country; until, at last, passing, as well as we could see
from the gloom, which was almost impenetrable, through a narrow glen
between steep peaks, we suddenly turned a corner of a projecting rock,
and found ourselves on an elevated plateau on the top of the mountains,
where a strange scene awaited us. A number of ruddy watch-fires were
burning with red and smoky light, and around these sat, reclined, or
moved about, in a variety of active