Chapter 32

These two men were crack shots, unluckily for the brigands, and they speedily gave proof of their skill.

Two of the mountaineers bit the dust before they could dream of helping themselves.

Not three minutes had elapsed since the firing of the first shot, and already six men were down.

"Surrender!" said one of the new-comers, in a loud, authoritative voice.

But instead of responding, one of the Greeks drew a pistol and levelled it at the towering figure of Harkaway, for of course he was one of the marksmen, but before he could pull the trigger, bang went another chamber of the old man's revolver, and the pistol fell to the ground.

The hand which had held it was helpless, the arm shattered at the elbow.

There was in truth something dreadful in this carnage.

But neither Harkaway nor Jefferson thought any thing of this.

Indeed, horrible as it may sound, they killed a brigand with as little compunction as they would have slaughtered a wolf.

"Surrender!" cried Harkaway, for the second time. "Yield now, or by Heaven, you shall all die on the field."

The Greeks looked around for assistance.

They were five.

The enemy only three.

As a rule, these ruffians were not deficient in bulldog courage and ferocity, but this desperate fighting had surprised and frightened them.

"Yield, ruffians, to better men than yourselves."

They paused.

"To pause is death," cried Jack Harkaway, in a loud voice.

As the last word was spoken, up went the two rifles.

"Nabley," cried the American.

"All right," answered the disguised old man.

"Look after that outside brigand on your left."

"I will, and his neighbour, too?"

"If you can."

"I am thinking of my murdered friend, Pike, and I feel I can take twenty such vagabonds!" echoed the detective, fiercely.

"I'll take that big fellow, Jeff," said Harkaway. "You pot the other."

"Good."

"Now, then, you villains, when I count three, look out," said the detective, with a mild expletive.

Not mild enough for repetition here, by the way.

"One, two--"

The brigands, having held a hurried consultation, here threw down their arms.

Just in the very nick of time.

Two seconds more and they would have had no chance.

"Now," cried Harkaway, still with the gun ready for use, "forward! march!"

The brigands looked mischievous for a moment.

So did the rifles.

So did the revolver.

These two weapons were great persuaders.

With slow, unwilling steps the five men marched onward into captivity.

"I'll see to the wounded," said the detective.

Four of the brigands had been killed outright.

Others were writhing on the ground and using bad language.

"Two and four make six," muttered Mr. Nabley; "six and four are ten. Why, I could have sworn that there were eleven. Yes, certainly there was another. Where the deuce could he have got to?"

The most diligent search, that is, the most diligent search possible under the circumstances, failed to find the faintest trace of the missing man.

"That's the one I gave that smack in the face," said Nabley to himself. "Well, I know I gave it to him pretty warm besides that. He hasn't got far. He has crawled somewhere to die, I suppose. Well, well, I can't deny him that little luxury."

And then, by dint of threatening the wounded with instant death, he persuaded them to crawl after the rest.

* * * * * And when our three adventurers marched into the town with their prisoners between them, there was a loud outcry.

Cheers, bravos, huzzahs, at every step of the way.

"That's the Englishman Harkaway," said one of the bystanders, as they marched onward towards the prison, "and that is the American Jefferson."

"Dreadful men those to make enemies of. I have heard that Harkaway has destroyed hundreds of brigands and pirates."

"Yes, I have heard so," answered the other. "It was an evil moment for those villains of brigands when they shot the poor young Harkaways. They will lose many a life for those two."

"Ah, that they will."

"Who is that driving the two wounded men before him?"

"That is an English secret police officer. He is even more dangerous than the others. He has killed four men with his own hands in this skirmish. I believe an old friend of his has been murdered by the brigands, and he has sworn to have revenge."

"It is taking the law into their own hands with a vengeance."

"All honour to them for their bravery."

"Three cheers for Harkaway!"