sts, and dancing about, as Mr
Moynham said afterwards, "like a hen on a hot griddle."

"My dear sir, you have nothing really to complain of," said the Greek.
"You saved my life, I admit, and I think I politely expressed my
obligations at the time. In return I now present you with five lives,
independently of that of the dog, which, I am sorry to see, has been
hurt."

"But the ransom?" said dad.

"Oh, I'm sorry I had to insist on that," said Stephanos, placidly; "but
it is one of our rules to enforce such in all cases, and I'm sorry that
I could not let you off, although my friendship yearned to set you free
without it. You must really please excuse the treatment you have met
with. If I had known who honoured me with their company, I'm sure you
would have had no reason to be dissatisfied with my hospitality. The
_next_ time you favour me with your presence, my lord--"

"The next time you catch me here, or anywhere else on Greek ground,"
laughed my father in a hearty "Ho! ho!" in which all of us joined, "you
may cut me up into kabobs and cook and eat me, and welcome; for I know
I'll then deserve it!"

We got back safe aboard the _Moonshine_ all right, setting sail from the
Piraeus next day; but it was a good trick of the brigand chief, wasn't
it--though I can't say much for his gratitude after all, spite of those
magnificent presents, which there was little reason to wonder at his
offering us, considering the easy manner in which he got his money?

The cut in Rollo's neck healed soon, and he is now as right as ever he
was, excepting a slight scar which tells where the stiletto or dagger
went, and he wears still the collar of gold that Stephanos Pericles
presented him with. As for the rest of our party, all of us got home
safe with the _Moonshine_, which is now fitting out at Ryde for the
coming regatta, where I hope she'll come off as successfully in carrying
off prizes as "THE GREEK BANDIT."

CHAPTER FOUR.

JIM NEWMAN'S YARN: OR, A SIGHT OF THE SEA SERPENT.

"Was you ever up the Niger, sir?"

"Why, of course not, Jim! you know that I've never been on the African
station, or any other for that matter. But why do you ask the
question?"

"Don't know 'xactly, sir. P'raps that blessed sea-fog reminds me of it,
somehow or other--though there's little likeness, as far as that goes,
between the west coast and Portsmouth, is there, sir?"

"I don't suppose there is," I said; "but what puts the Niger, of a