On the Way to Sorrento again.—A mournful Ride.—A despairing
Search.—A fearful Discovery.—The old Virago again.—In a
Trap.—Sorrento aroused.—Besieged.—All lost.—A raging
Crowd.—The howling Hag.—Hurried Consultation.—The last forlorn
Hope.—Disguise, Flight, and Concealment.

So, as I have said, the carriage rolled out from Castellamare, along the road to Sorrento, freighted with its anxious load. All were silent. Uncle Moses was weighed down by an anxiety that was too deep for words, and sat bent forward with his head buried in his hands. The boys respected his feelings too much to say anything, and consequently they, too, sat in silence. They were far from feeling anything like despair, however, on David's account. Before they started, Bob had assured them that "Dave" was "all right," and would turn up before long somewhere—an assurance which Frank and Clive accepted as a perfectly sound and reliable statement; and so, if they were silent, it was not so much the silence of care or sadness, as of sympathy with Uncle Moses.

As they went along they met people from time to time, some wayfarers, some in carriages, some in wagons, and some on horseback. In accordance with the earnest request of Uncle Moses, the driver questioned all these without exception, and asked the same question of all.

"Have you seen anything of a boy about fifteen years old—pale, with dark hair, sallow face, and gray dress?"

And to this question there was one uniform answer from every one,

"No."

And at each fresh answer Uncle Moses would feel more and more disheartened, and sink into a new abyss of despondency and anxiety.

Far different was this journey to Sorrento from that former one which they had made a few days before. Then they were all together, and every one was filled with joy and enthusiasm. Then no one in that little party was penetrated with a more profound and heartfelt joy than David, who, in addition to a boy's delight at novelty, brought forth all that classical glow and fervor which were peculiarly his own. And now, where was he? The nearer they drew to Sorrento, the more urgent and pressing did this question become; and as each one asked it of himself, there was no answer. Gradually the spectacle of the woe of Uncle Moses began to affect the boys, and in spite of Bob's confidence they began to feel an unpleasant fear stealing over them.

A little way out of Sorrento the driver halted and spoke to Uncle
Moses.

He felt a little troubled, he said, about taking the carriage into the town. He reminded them of the recent uproar of the people, and their narrow escape, and warned them that if they were recognized they might again be assailed.

But this warning fell on heedless ears. Uncle Moses was decided to go on. If David was anywhere, he might be in that very town, a prisoner in the hands of those foolish people who took offence at nothing. If they wished to save him, they must go into the very midst of the people, and gave him from their vengeance.

At this the driver drove on.

About a half a mile outside the town they overtook an old woman, and the driver stopped, and put to her the usual question. As the woman looked up they all recognized her at once.

She was their old friend, or rather enemy—the virago herself, and no other!

At the driver's question she stared at them, and at once recognized them all. A dark and gloomy expression came over her, and if glances could have injured them they would have been blasted on the spot.

She stood there, and after the driver had asked the question she glared at them for some time in silence, looking from one to the other. Then she stretched forth a long, bony, skinny hand, and shook it at them. Then she burst forth in a long, shrill, venomous strain of denunciation, of which the boys could not understand one word; but the meaning of which they could easily conjecture.

"What does she say?" asked Uncle Moses of the driver.

"O, nothing," said the driver. "She only does curse; and she say she will haf vengeance." And once more the driver urged Uncle Moses go back.

But this appearance of the virago and her threats only roused Uncle Moses to fresh determination. He was now confident that David had been seized by the Sorrentonians, and that this woman was, perhaps, the instigator and leader in the act. He urged the driver to talk to her; but the driver assured him that it was useless, that she was crazy, and that if they wanted to gain information they must make inquiries elsewhere.

They now resumed their progress, and before long entered the town, and reached the hotel. Uncle Moses at once sought the landlord. At the appearance of the carriage and passengers the landlord looked a little uneasy, and at the inquiry of Uncle Moses he looked still more troubled. But as to David he knew nothing whatever.

"Had he heard of a boy being arrested anywhere?"

"No—nothing at all."

"Had he heard of any one being arrested?"

"No."

"Had he heard any people making any threats against them?"

"O, certainly!"—for the whole of the next day there was nothing but threats against the sacrilegious foreigners; but the feeling had subsided since. Still their appearance in Sorrento would undoubtedly rouse the people again, and the landlord urged them for their own sakes to hurry away as fast as possible back to Castellamare.

But Uncle Moses refused to think of this. He was here, and here he would remain until he had found David. He wanted the landlord to help him in this task. Let him go out and mollify the people in any way, and see if he could find anything about the lost boy. He promised to pay any sum to the landlord, or anybody else, if they would only effect his rescue.

This promise acted powerfully upon the landlord's cupidity, and he thought that at any rate it would be well to try. So he told Uncle Moses to wait, and he would see what could be done. He thereupon left them, and Uncle Moses and the boys walked up stairs to that same room in which they had dined before, when the uproar of the people reached their ears. Here they sat down and waited in silence.

They did not have to wait very long. It was not more than a quarter of an hour, or twenty minutes, when hurried footsteps were heard, and the landlord rushed in, followed by the driver. Both were agitated and disturbed. At the same instant an outcry arose from without, and a tumult of eager and excited voices burst upon their ears. The landlord clasped his hands, and stood listening. The driver rushed to Uncle Moses, and cried,—

"Dey haf come!—de people! You are lost!"

At this Uncle Moses and the boys started to their feet aghast, and Frank rushed to the window, and standing so as to be as little observed as possible, he looked out.

In the street in front he saw an excited crowd, which was not so large as it had been on that former memorable occasion, but which promised to be so before another quarter of an hour, for people were running up every minute, and adding to the uproar. The cries grew louder and louder, and though Frank could not understand the words, he perceived plainly enough that they were fierce cries of anger and vengeance. And there, conspicuous among this crowd, was that identical old woman—that villanous old virago, who had caused all the former trouble, and seemed now bent upon the full accomplishment of her furious purpose. Dancing, howling, shrieking, she stood close by the door of the hotel, which was now shut and barred, and shook her fists at the building, and yelled out curses at those within, and called upon her fellow citizens to break into the hotel, and seize the sacrilegious and barbarous foreigners. Frank was a bold boy, but this sight was too much for him. His heart sank within him, and he involuntarily shrank back farther out of sight.

Soon the people outside began to throw at the party within something harder than words. Stones came flying through the open windows, and one of these missiles came very close to the head of Uncle Moses. The landlord rushed forward, and closed all the shutters, and barred them, while the boys gathered around Uncle Moses as though to protect him from those savage assailants without.

"What shall we do?" asked Frank of the driver.

The driver shrugged his shoulders.

"Can't we drive through them as we did before?"

"Dey have put a guard at de gate. Dey prepare dis time—an not let us go."

"Isn't there any back way?" asked Frank, once more, of the landlord, who now rejoined them, after having barred all the windows.

"Dere is; but de people are on de guard."

"Are there no soldiers about—no police? Can't some one go and get help?"

The landlord shook his head despondingly.

"But there must be some way of getting rid of the mob," said Frank, impatiently. "Can't you explain that it was all a mistake?"

The landlord sighed.

"I haf try," he said, in a doleful voice. "And dey say I mus put you out of de house. Dat I can not do—so I sall haf to soffaire. Listen!" And at that moment the crash of glass below interrupted him, and formed a striking commentary on his remarks. "Dey vill break de vindow," said he, "an dey vill try to break de door; but I haf barricade as well as I can."

"Are we at all safe?" asked Frank.

The landlord shook his head.

"Not mooch. If dey get enrage enough, dey break in, and den"—a significant shrug ended the sentence.

"Have you any arms—fire-arms?" asked Frank, after a thoughtful pause.

"I haf a small shot gun."

"Give me that," interrupted Frank.

"But I haf no powdaire," said the landlord.

At this Frank turned away in despair.

"Can't we get to some other room than this?" he asked of the driver. "Isn't there a place where we can have some chance of defending ourselves?"

The driver had been silent for some time, and buried in thought. He did not hear Frank's words, but as he spoke, he looked earnestly at him, and said,—

"I haf a plan. It may be no good—but it is de only one."

"Ah," asked Frank, eagerly, "what is that?"

"You must all disguise."

"Disguise?"

"Yes—female dress. I sall try to get some."

"But they would recognize us all the same."

"No—de plan is dis. You all disguise—stay below—I sall sit in de carriage; de horses are all ready now. Ef de people do break in, dey will all rush up stair to here. You sall be down stair in de stable. De moment de crowd come, I will haf de gates opened. You sall spring in—an den I whip up, an make a fly for life. You ond'stan?"

The driver spoke hurriedly. Frank understood him, and at once approved. At this the driver went off to get the landlord to procure female dresses. That worthy hurried away, and soon returned with about twenty gowns, bonnets, and petticoats. These he threw upon the floor, and implored them to make haste, for the people outside were talking of getting a beam to batter in the door. He had implored them not to, but they scorned his prayers.

Upon this the boys began to put on the dresses, disguising themselves as well as they could. It was very clumsy work, and they were very uncertain about the proper way of fastening them; but the driver and the landlord assisted them. The dresses were those of Italian peasant women, and required no very elaborate adjustment. Some coarse bonnets, of an antique type, were stuck on their heads, and served to conceal their short hair and faces.

With Uncle Moses they had very much trouble. At first he refused positively, and only consented when he was assured that the safety of the boys depended upon his disguise. So he yielded reluctantly, and allowed the driver to officiate as lady's maid.

No sooner was this task concluded, than the landlord and driver hurried them down stairs, and through a passage-way into the barn. Outside, in the court-yard, was the carriage, with the horses ready. The hostler was sent to the gate to fling it open at the driver's signal, and the landlord, stimulated by a promise from Uncle Moses of a large reward hi case of his rescue, returned to the hotel, to operate upon the crowd from that quarter.