the camp fire, was another group,
among which the figures of Harry Girdwood, of Mole, and of Thyra were
conspicuous?

It must be a dream.

Jack leapt to his feet, fixed his eyes on the group, and now recognised
also Mr. Figgins, the Will-o'-the-Wisp forms of Bogey and Tinker
flitting about and waiting on the others.

Now convinced, Jack rushed out of his tent into the larger one.

A perfect storm of welcome greeted him, and mutual surprise and delight
were exhibited by all.

Thyra was beside herself with joy.

"Oh, dear Jack," said she, "I thought never to see you more."

"How did you get away from the Turks?" asked Harry Girdwood and two or
three of the others in chorus.

Jack told his story, and in turn listened to his companions'
adventures, and there were mutual congratulations upon their escape.

Never in all Jack's wanderings was there a happier occasion than this
reunion.

CHAPTER LXXXVI.

THE GREEK GIRL'S FOREBODING--A BATTLE WITH THE TURKS.

Thyra slept little that night.

This could not be because she was unwearied in frame, for the toils,
anxieties, and dangers of the day had been sufficient to exhaust far
greater strength than hers.

It was not that she had not much cause now for anxiety of mind.

Jack was safe--that to her, was the first consideration, and all his
friends, including herself, had been rescued by his cleverness from the
more imminent perils that beset them.

But her soul was in a state of great agitation; dark, melancholy
thoughts, which would not be chased away, continually oppressed it.

This interfered with the blissful visions, the roseate castles in the
air which she was so prone to build, and of which Jack Harkaway ever
formed the central figure.

If she could win his love, and accompany him to England--a grand and
mysterious region which she had all her life longed to see--Thyra
thought the climax of happiness would be reached.

But still she felt a terrible presentiment that, not only would this
never be accomplished, but that some dread and imminent fate was
hanging over her.

"To-morrow," she murmured, "the hand of destiny will lie heavily upon
me; there is a voice within that tells me so."

And this melancholy condition continued throughout the hours of
darkness.

She looked out of her tent.

All around her slept.

Even the sentinel had fallen asleep beside the camp fire.

The air was laden with the chill breath of night, but the stars were