"Yes. Why did the ruffians attack you?"
"Hope of plunder, I suppose," replied De Vignes, shrugging his shoulders. And stooping down he proceeded to examine his fallen foe.
"Have you killed him?" I asked.
"He still breathes, and might be saved if we could get assistance."
"I am afraid there will be trouble over this business," I remarked, wishing that my friend had not been quite so handy with his sword.
"Bah! these little affairs are common enough in Sicily," De Vignes rejoined. "However, we may as well try to save his life. Will you go for help? There is a house some fifty yards down the road, and I shall want water, rags for bandages, and a little cognac or other spirit."
"Suppose the other ruffians return?" I objected.
"They will not return," he answered impatiently. "Come, mon ami! be quick, I pray you, or this unhappy wretch will bleed to death." Thus exhorted, I started off[!-- [Pg 79] --] down the road; but not a sign of any sort of habitation could I discover.
I retraced my steps, and on reaching the spot where the encounter took place, found, to my astonishment, that both De Vignes and the wounded robber had disappeared—not a trace of them was to be seen! I waited about a few minutes, and then hastened to my quarters.
Charles Holroyd had not gone to bed when I returned, and to him I related my adventure.