Jack Harkaway and His Son's Escape from the Brigands of Greece Part 83

"Not more?" said Jefferson, laughing; "then you must have felt rather bad in the inside."

"Never, sir," said Mole, getting more and more dignified; "but I left the enemy rather unhappy, in the inside and the outside."

"Indeed!"

"This is the only survivor out of five; question him closely."

Mole had carefully ascertained that the wounded Greek didn't speak a solitary word of English.

"Ask him, I say, what I did for his comrades; how I larded them--how I peppered them, and made them cry peccavi. Damme, Jefferson, old boy, you should have seen me in action; gad, sir, I'm like an old war-horse at the first sniff of powder. Down they went, first one, then the other. Hang me! if I didn't play at skittles with' em, and I was in that humour, Harkaway, when you can't miss. I'd just cheek the corner pin and make a royal every go. What do you think of that, Harkaway?"

Old Jack smiled.

"I'm not proficient enough in skittles to appreciate the feat," he answered.

"And so you tackled all this lot single-handed?"

"Yes."

"How many?"

"Ten."

"I thought you said five."

"Ten, sir, ten in all; five came up at first, but in as many moments they were all on their backs; and then up came another five of them, each heavily armed. I never forget; hang it! I couldn't forget such a job as that very easily. Five of the second lot fell at my first fire; I toppled over three more, and the other one--"

What Mr. Mole might in his ardour have been tempted to draw for upon his glowing fancy, it is impossible to say, for just as he reached this point in his fanciful narration, up came Nabley.

"Hullo!" he said, as he caught sight of the wounded brigand; "here's the missing man."

"This," cried the rest of the people present as if with one voice.

"Yes, this is the man I shot down at my first fire; he must have crawled away to hide; why, where is Mr. Mole running to?"

The imaginative old gentleman suddenly vanished from the scene.

He did not relish the presence of such a witness as this.

"This is Mr. Mole's prisoner," said Jefferson, laughing; "you see he has brought in one, after all."

"I bring you something better even then prisoners," said the detective.

"What is that?"

"Good news."

"Speak; what is it?"

"The brigands have given up Hunston."

Harkaway started at the words.

"That is news, indeed," he said; "and now justice demands that the villain shall speedily hang."

CHAPTER x.x.x

THE FIG-TREE GROVE--A DOUBLE AMBUSCADE--THE LEECH-FISHER--HOW THE TRAP WAS BAITED, AND HOW IT TOOK--SOMETHING LIKE THE OLD FORM-- TRIUMPHANT MARCH OF HARKAWAY AND CO.

Within an hour--nay, less--of the foregoing conversation you might have seen an aged man wending his weary way along the high road from Athens towards the mountains.

Thickly-grown fig trees leant over the road, and their well-garnished branches formed a roof of foliage through which no ray of sunlight could penetrate.

He seemed an aged man.

His steps tottered.

It was strange that he did not seek the aid of a stout staff, or walking stick at least.

But no, he preferred to keep his hands in his coat pockets.

Now the coat he wore was a full-skirted frock, much resembling in shape the garment which was worn by our grandfathers, or their fathers, when George the Third was king, with huge pockets in the skirts and lappets.

And into these big pockets the old wanderer's arms were buried up to the elbows.

Perhaps it was because he felt somewhat chilly.

There was a gentle breeze blowing through the trees.

As he went along, he shot sly glances from time to time about him, almost as if he were expecting someone; but he had got nearly over a third of the distance down the fig-tree grove before there were the faintest signs of life about him, and there, apparently overcome by the fatigue of his walk, he dropped down upon a moss-grown bank to rest.

He looked up at the leafy canopy overhead, and sniffed down the sweet odours that floated along on the gentlest of zephyrs.

"Not such bad quarters," he muttered to himself (it was in English that he spoke); "not at all bad. There is only one thing required to make this the happiest day of my life; only one thing, and that is, success in my present undertaking--"

He paused.

"Hark!"

What was it?

He heard a faint rustling in the foliage hard by.

This part of the country was reported to be infested with thieves, the regular hunting grounds of the brigands.