ur lives will answer
for theirs until you give them into Mocatto's keeping. You know the
rendezvous, where to meet him and his band. Captain, and young
gentlemen, adieu! May you be of a more practical mind when I see you
again, which will not be long."

And, with these words, the corsair took leave of the captives, who,
after being gagged again, and having their hands all tied behind them--
including Tompkins this time, much to the boys' satisfaction--were put
into the boat that lay alongside, and rowed ashore, under a strong
guard, with the Greek Polydori at their head.

It was a change of scene from their cooped-up quarters on board the
felucca; but after they had had a toilsome march, uphill all the way,
through mountainous defiles and along the roughest of paths, they wished
themselves back again in their floating prison.

Arrived at a cross-turning surrounded by a thicket of stunted shrubs,
the leader of the guard that accompanied them cried a halt, uttering a
shrill and prolonged whistle, which was presently repeated from the
hills above.

An approaching footstep was then heard, and a challenge, to which
Polydori replied with some password, after which there was a long
colloquy between him and the stranger.

They were then ordered to resume their march, although they had been
walking two hours since they had quitted the shore, Polydori and the
stranger leading the column, with the prisoners in the centre and the
other guards in the front and rear. In this manner they proceeded until
the unfortunate captives were ready to drop with fatigue, while their
board ship shoes were worn into shreds by the stones and prickles of the
path they had traversed, and their feet all bleeding and torn.

"I can't go a step farther!" exclaimed Tom, dropping in his footsteps.
"Good-bye all."

But the guards prodded him with their knives, and made him rise again.
So he tottered along, until the column, marching in a sort of military
order, and passing numerous sentinels, who challenged the leaders, and
stopped them till they gave the countersign, entered suddenly on a large
encampment of men, squatting on the ground amidst a circle of fires.
There were no tents nor waggons to bear out the illusion, but otherwise
the scene resembled a bivouac of some expeditionary force.

The brigands, as the English readily guessed these gentry to be, were
some forty or more in number, and were principally Greeks and Albanians,
clad in th