"The third?" questioned Donatus. "There are but two of you."

"You have forgotten Flavia?"

"Indeed not. I have remembered her well."

Maro was pale, holding his excitement in check with difficulty.

"Then I will walk and she shall ride," he said. "Have her brought."

Barely a moment did Donatus hesitate, and then he gave the order that the girl be brought.

Soon one of the men conducted her from the cave before the mouth of which the guard paced. She was almost deathly white. Her eyes were wide with fear, but she pressed her lips together and tried to retain command of herself.

Never in all her life had Flavia looked more beautiful than at that moment. Donatus folded his arms on his broad chest and gazed at her with a singular expression in his eyes.

"Maid," he said, "your uncle and your lover are about to depart. Your lover has demanded that you shall accompany him. Are you ready to go?"

"Come, Flavia!" cried Maro, holding out his hands to her.

She shrank from him.

"No!" she cried; "I do not wish to go with you! I will not go with you!"

With a single stride Donatus reached her and placed his left arm about her with almost crushing fierceness. His other hand he flung out toward Maro.

"You have her answer!" he said. "She remains, and you go without her!"

With a cry of terror, Flavia tried to break from the powerful arm that clasped her. This she could not have accomplished of her own strength, but Donatus released her, and she reeled away.

Maro sprang forward to support her, but she saw him and whirled in a twinkling, rushing back to the protection of the brigand chief, who smiled as he again clasped her with his arm.

"She has made her choice," he said. And then in a voice unintelligible to them he added: "I shall not return empty-handed to my home!"

Maro was distracted. He clutched Tyrus by the arm, panting:

"Is this your friend? Is this the man whose life you saved? See how he repays you!"

Tyrus was greatly agitated.

"Donatus," he said entreatingly, "have you forgotten? She is my niece.

It is I who have the right to take her."

"For years," said the chief, "I have dreamed of her face. To-day I saw it for the first time."

"But it is not because of you she chooses to stay. She does not understand. She does not know you mean to keep her for yourself. It is the Englishman of whom she thinks."

"She will forget him soon when he is gone. With the money I shall secure through him I may buy my pardon. She shall be mine!"

Now Flavia did understand, and once more she struggled for her freedom, crying out in her horror of them all.

At this juncture, from some distant part of the valley, came startling sounds. Several pistol shots were fired in rapid succession. In a twinkling every brigand was on his feet, their weapons ready.

Donatus had wheeled toward the sounds, which ceased as suddenly as they began.

Behind the chief's back Maro seized the girl, hissing into her ear:

"Foolish Flavia! Will you give yourself up to this brigand? Do not think he will let the Englishman have you. He means to keep you for himself."

She stood like one turned to stone, unable to decide what should be done. In that moment she seemed so beset and entangled that there was no possible escape for her. She could not depart and leave Cavendish in that dark hole, yet if she remained she might be forced to become the bride of Donatus, the brigand.

Maro was likewise in a fearful state of mind. Suddenly he s.n.a.t.c.hed out a pistol and threatened her with it.

"I had rather kill you with my own hand than leave you to either of them!" he hissed.

She clutched the pistol in his hand with both of her hands and sought to wrest it from him. In the struggle it was discharged.

Donatus, the Suliote, gave a great start and then his legs buckled beneath him and he fell p.r.o.ne to the ground.

Instantly Maro relaxed his hold on the pistol and sprang away. When the brigands who remained by the fire turned to look they saw their chief stretched on the ground, while the smoking pistol was clutched in the hands of the horror-stricken girl.

Instantly they were upon her. They wrested the weapon from her and pinned her arms at her side. One knelt beside the chief and made a hasty search for the wound.

"Kill her!" snarled a little ruffian, flourishing a knife. "Cut her throat! She has slain Donatus!"

He made a slash with the gleaming blade, as if he would sweep it across the throat of the girl.

It was the voice of Donatus that checked them and kept them from doing her fatal harm. He had lifted himself to his elbow.

"Hold!" he commanded, in the tone none dared disobey. "Hold her fast, but harm no hair on her head. Where is Ruteni? Let him see how badly I am wounded. Place her in the cave and guard her well."

Then Flavia managed to drag those who had clutched her until she was near enough to sink on her knees beside the wounded and bleeding brigand.

"Oh, I did not mean to do it!" she sobbed. "Believe me, I did not mean it! I tried to wrest the weapon from Maro, and it was discharged."

The face of Donatus, outcast and wretch that he was, lighted with a great look of relief. With an effort, he lifted a hand and touched her tangled hair.

"I believe you, Flavia," he said. "You shall not be harmed. You shall remain with the Englishman."

Then he gave a few low-spoken orders, and Maro saw Flavia led away toward the cave.

"Where is Ruteni?" again demanded Donatus. "Am I to bleed to death for need of a little care?"

Soon the man called for came running from the darkness and dropped beside the chief. He carried on his person a leather case, containing some instruments and bandages, and he began at once to look after the wound by the light of the camp fire.

"What was the firing I heard, Ruteni?" asked the chief.

"Some one succeeded in pa.s.sing the guards at the entrance to the valley, chief."