“You say that these Roumi swine have two sentries on the path, and that the rest are sheltering in the ruined hut below? Well, be sure that the sentries will join the rest as soon as it is daylight, for what sane man would stand out in the rain when he might be in shelter? They will not expect us to break through by day, and if the saints only grant them sleep after they have eaten, we may pass without their even seeing us. If they should seek to prevent us, we can use the prisoners as a screen against their bullets, and escape ourselves.”
“It is well said,” remarked the chief, whose own financial stake in the matter was considerable. “At least we will do what we can to save the ransom. We will remain here for the present.”
The prospect was not very cheering, for the rain dripped down from the sodden trees on the soaked ground, and everything was wet. Maurice took matters into his own hands. Gathering together some fallen branches, he arranged them on the driest spot he could find, and asked Zeko for matches. The brigands laughed grimly at the request.
“If you must kill the ladies, you may as well do it at once,” he responded promptly, “and not leave them to die of cold and wet. No one could distinguish smoke in this mist, even if there was any one looking out.”
Unless the suggestion had accorded with the brigands’ own inclinations, it would probably still have been scouted, but in the prevailing cold and discomfort the idea of a fire appealed to them powerfully, and they collected more sticks, and laboured strenuously to get the wet wood to burn. It was a very smoky and cheerless fire, at best, but it put a little warmth into the girls’ shivering frames, and Maurice toasted the soaked morsels of black bread and dingy cheese which were thrown to them, and induced them to eat. The brigands had been consulting together during the meal, and at its close Stoyan called Maurice aside, addressing him in a reasonable, “man-and-brother” way, which amused him by its cool assumption that their interests were the same.
“You must see clearly,” he said, “that we cannot remain here. At any cost we must pass the soldiers in front. Out of consideration for your sisters we have refrained from dragging them up the rocks, and you must, therefore, make them understand that they must walk a little way farther. Let them bind up their feet, so as to leave no track, and once beyond the pass we shall be able to procure horses for them. We are bound for a safe hiding-place, where they will find rest and comfort, and women to attend upon them. Surely you can see that it is better for them to make this slight effort than to be left dead upon the road?”
“I do quite see it,” responded Maurice, after a moment’s thought. It was clear that, for the moment, their interests did indeed lie with those of the brigands, since any attempt to reach the soldiers or delay the march meant death. He went back to the girls and explained things to them, and they set to work wearily to tie up their wounded feet in such rags as they could muster, replacing the torn moccasins over them. Presently one of the scouts came in to report that the Roumi sentries had rejoined their comrades at the ruined hut, thus leaving the way above clear, and the march was resumed immediately, the girls tottering as best they could on either side of Maurice, who alone had an arm to spare for them. The brigands had all unslung their rifles and looked to the cartridges, and were proceeding in a rough open order, with the scouts a little way in advance. Suddenly they came to a standstill, with an involuntary gasp of astonishment. Facing them, climbing the slope from the ruined hut, were the Roumi soldiers, whose surprise was equally patent with their own. It would have been difficult to say which party had less expected to see the other, but the brigands were prepared for the emergency, while the soldiers were not. Their rifles were slung on their backs for convenience in climbing, and they were scattered on the face of the slope. A sharp order from the brigand chief confronted them with the muzzles of twenty rifles, and with a howl of horror they turned and fled. Half of the band pursued them—the rest remaining to guard the prisoners—firing off their rifles and whooping with delight. The pursuit was not a long one, for Stoyan’s whistle recalled his men quickly, and sending one back to discover whether the sounds of the skirmish had penetrated to the force with which Wylie was, he led the rest forward for some distance, till they came to a place where two tracks met. One man was sent on down the lower and left-hand path, while the main body disposed themselves among the rocks, well out of sight of the road, and Milosch, approaching the prisoner, said to Zoe—
“You give ze Voivoda cutting.”
This mild horticultural request was so surprising that Zoe looked at him in perplexity, whereupon he pointed impatiently to her dress. The neat striped flannel coat and skirt on which she had so long ago prided herself was now in sadly reduced circumstances, the skirt especially having been curtailed to the most approved “mountaineering length.”
“Oh, give them a piece of yours, Eirene, can’t you?” she said. “You really have more left.”