Though on joining the party Amos Sanderson had spoken of the possibility of encountering banditti, his companions had scarcely given a thought to the subject since. In the scenes of beauty through which they were passing such a possibility seemed incongruous, and no apprehension was felt. But danger there was, notwithstanding.

They had spent the night at a wretched inn in the town of Melfa, and proceeding on their way, passed on the left the picturesque town of Rocca Secca. About a mile beyond they were startled by the sudden appearance of three dark and swarthy Italians, who, darting from a clump of bushes at the wayside, seized one of the horses by the bridle, and pointing pistols at the party, called out in English in a menacing tone, “Money!”

“Well, I’ll be jiggered,” exclaimed the American, “here’s the banditti sure enough!”

Walter Cunningham looked troubled. It was a very disagreeable interruption.

“Look here, gentlemen bandits,” said Amos, “we haven’t any money to spare. We are only poor travelers. You have made a mistake. There’s some rich gentlemen on the road who will be here about this time to-morrow. You’d better wait for them.”

Of course all this was thrown away upon the Italians, who did not understand English, and frowned impatiently while Mr. Sanderson was speaking.

“Give up your money, and that at once,” said the foremost of the banditti.

He spoke in Italian, but Bernard, who had picked up some familiar phrases, understood and interpreted.

“Really this is very disagreeable,” said Cunningham.

“I wish they understood English. I’d argy a little with them,” added the American.

“I am afraid it wouldn’t do much good, Mr. Sanderson,” said Bernard. “They would probably shoot you for an answer.”

The party looked undecided. By way of hastening a decision one of the bandits came up to the door of the carriage, and holding his pistol in one hand, held out his hat in the other.

“I suppose we must surrender at discretion,” said the young Englishman. “They won’t make much of a haul in my case.”

“Nor in mine,” added Sanderson. “I have about enough money to last me as far as Naples, where I intend to call on my banker.”

“We had better give up what we have. It won’t ruin us.”

The American, who was pugnacious and liked to argue, yielded unwillingly. He and his companions emptied their pockets, and passed the contents over to the black-bearded fellow who acted as collector. He looked at the sum and frowned fiercely as he turned to his companions and spoke a few words to them.

“What does he say?” asked Amos Sanderson.

“I don’t understand,” said Bernard. “He talks too fast for me.”

Here Pasquale broke into the conversation.

“He says it isn’t enough,” he explained.

“But it is all we have. Tell him so.”

Pasquale put the message into Italian, and communicated it to his countrymen.

“Well, what does he say?” asked Walter Cunningham.

“He says it is not enough, and that you can get more.”

“Where can we get it?”

“He says you can get it at your bankers’.”

“Bring the bankers along, and we will ask them.”

“The signor will only anger them, and that will be bad.”

“How much in the name of wonder do they want?”

Pasquale repeated the question.

“They want five thousand scudi more,” he reported.

“How much is a scudi?” asked the American, turning to Cunningham.

“A dollar.”

“And the rascals want five thousand dollars? Jumping Jehoshaphat, haven’t they got cheek! Why do they ask so much of three poor travelers?”

Pasquale repeated the question, and received an answer.

“They say you are not poor, that one of you is a great English milord, and that you are a rich American.”

“I’d like to know how they found out I am rich,” said Amos, disgusted. “Have they seen my tax bill?”

“They say all Americans are rich.”

“That’s where they make a big mistake. I know plenty of men in Omaha that wouldn’t be worth a hundred dollars if their debts were paid. As to my friend here being a rich milord, I don’t know but he is. I am not a milord at all, but only a plain American citizen.”

“I am not a milord,” said Walter Cunningham, smiling. “However, I am aware that in Italy every Englishman who has money enough to travel is supposed to be a lord, just as every American is called rich.”

“They don’t say anything about me,” said Bernard. “I wonder whether they take me to be rich or a milord?”

“They don’t take account of you because you are a boy. They think you are related to Mr. Cunningham or myself.”

“I am willing to be overlooked.”

“I wonder if I could pass myself off for a boy,” said the American humorously.

“Hardly. You have lost too much hair.”

“The gentlemen are getting impatient,” said Pas-quale warningly.

“Are they? Well, I guess we shall take our time.”

“It will not be well to provoke them needlessly,” said Walter Cunningham. “You may tell them that we cannot give them five thousand scudi,” he added addressing the vetturino.

The bandits held a conference, but it was not prolonged. Evidently they were incensed at the contumacy of their victims.

After the conference, during which the three travelers were very anxious, they spoke to Pasquale, who communicated their decision.

“They say you must either make arrangements to pay the five thousand scudi, or go with them.”

“Where in thunder do they mean to carry us, Pasquale?”

“I don’t know. They would not tell if I asked them.”

“Tell them to take us along, then,” said Mr. Sanderson, leaning back in his seat and nodding obstinately.

Walter Cunningham seemed to acquiesce, and the answer was returned.

Immediately one of the bandits took his seat beside the vetturino and took the reins from him. The other two walked beside the carriage. The party turned off from the main road, and entered a lane leading up the hill to the left.

“Well, boys, we’re in for it, I s’pose,” said Amos Sanderson. “It’s too bad, I vow. Such things couldn’t be done in America under the Stars and Stripes.”

“Don’t robberies ever take place in the States?” asked Walter Cunningham.

“Well, perhaps so, but these fellows have not only robbed us of all we have, but are carrying us off because we won’t give them more. I’d just like to wrestle with them one by one. If I didn’t throw them, I’d be jiggered, that’s all.”

“I don’t think they would agree to any such plan. They carry pistols, and probably knives. They are more used to them than to wrestling.”

“No doubt you are right, milord,” said Amos, at which Cunningham laughed. “Where do you think they’re going to carry us?”

“They probably have some secret resort somewhere among these hills. We shall find out before long. What do you think of our adventure, Bernard?”

“I wish I knew how it was going to turn out, Walter,” returned Bernard soberly.

“So do I,” said the American. “I shall have to have a good think. I can’t think unless I have a smoke. Will you have a cigar, Cunningham?”

“No, thank you.”

“Or you, Bernard?”

“No, but it might be a good idea to offer cigars to our new friends.”

“That’s a good idea. I’ll act on it.”

Mr. Sanderson took out a cigar, and, lighting it, put it in his mouth. Next he selected three others, offering the first to the man who sat beside the vetturino.

“Will you have a cigar, my friend?” he said.

The bandit took it, and said politely, “Grazia, signor.”

“What’s that?”

“He says ‘thank you,’” returned Bernard.

The other bandits accepted the cigars graciously, and were evidently more favorably inclined to the travelers they were escorting.

“I say, Bernard, we look like a friendly family party,” said Amos, who was amused by the situation.

The new driver was in no hurry. He drove in leisurely fashion, partly because their way ran up hill, partly because his two companions were obliged to walk, and could not otherwise keep up.

“I wish I knew where they were taking us,” said Amos Sanderson.

“To a free hotel,” answered Bernard.

“It’ll have to be free, for they haven’t left us any money to pay for that or anything else.”

“Their hotel can’t be much worse than the one we stopped at last night at Melfa.”

“I wish their bill might not be any larger,” said Walter Cunningham.

The cigars were smoked, and then the party subsided into silence. Even the lively American realized that they were in a difficult and perhaps dangerous situation. All three were busy with their own thoughts, Bernard was anxious, but he was also curious, and excited. He remembered to have read a story three years before in which a party had been surprised by banditti somewhere in Sicily. He forgot how the story ended. When he read it he certainly was very far from thinking that some time a similar adventure would happen to himself.