Tales of the Wonder Club, Volume I

by M. Y. Halidom

Then silence reigned for a brief space, broken now and again by some casual remark hardly audible. Here was a pretty to do! Had I been rescued from death by starvation only to stumble upon a nest of brigands? Oh, the irony of it! I trembled for the loss of the little gold I had upon me, but more still for the precious ring upon my finger.

"I must risk nothing," I said to myself, "and bide here in patience at any cost till they depart."

I dreaded lest the beating of my own heart—so audible to myself—should betray me. Thus a full hour or more passed away, when on a sudden I heard a sound like the hooting of an owl in the distance.

"The signal—the signal!" exclaimed several voices at once, and up they jumped like one man and took to their heels with the speed of lightning.

I began to emerge from my cavern, and just managed to catch a glimpse of some peaked hats, carbines, and sandalled legs, which soon disappeared for ever from my view. I was now once more under the clear dome of Heaven. The sky was absolutely cloudless, the heat intense. I shaded my eyes with my hand to protect them from the glare of the hot sun which now shone mercilessly down upon my bare head, for my hat had been left far behind me in that subterranean burial place. I tried to realise my situation. Where was I? I was in the centre of a very arid plain with blue mountains on the horizon and lines of ruined aqueducts in the middle distance. Not a hut within sight. The sun was intolerable, and I felt ready to faint from hunger and exhaustion. I gathered some broad green leaves to protect my head, and then looked around me for something to assuage the pangs of hunger.

I recollected that the brigands had been carousing close to the opening of my cave, so I returned thither to inspect the spot. To my intense joy I discovered some broken victuals. There were sundry crusts of bread, some cheese parings, a few slices of raw ham, a whole leg of a chicken, besides other bones not quite bare, which I devoured ravenously. Also a hard-boiled egg and half a flask of good wine. All this I put away in very short time, but I wanted more. It was barely enough to whet my appetite. However, I felt better, and could now contemplate my past adventures with great complacency.

The next question was, in what part of the world was I? Which course should I steer? North, south, east, or west. I feared being benighted and losing my way altogether. I sat down on a clump of ancient ruin to collect my ideas. Presently I heard faintly in the distance the peculiar cry of a Roman bullock driver, as he goaded on his sluggish team. I raised my eyes, and saw about half-a-mile off one of those drays drawn by buffaloes and laden with large blocks of white marble from the mountains for the use of sculptors. I hastened my steps and hailed the driver.

"Accidentaccio!" cried the man in amazement and horror at the sight of my bleeding head and general woe-begone appearance.

"What a sight! Che diavolo!——"

Here followed a string of questions which I felt in no humour to answer, so I cut him short by asking him to let me get upon his dray, as I wanted a little sleep, and that I would remember him as soon as we arrived at the gates of Rome.