He hoped thug to find help--to get a horse or an ass, and also something to eat, and thus set forth for Salerno. As the road wound on, and as he traversed it, he looked eagerly at every projecting cliff before him; and as he rounded each projection he still looked forward eagerly in search of the place, whether house or village, where he might obtain the help of which he stood in need. But the road continued lonely. He saw no houses, no villages, in its vicinity. He met with no living things, whether men or cattle. It was the loneliest path he had ever traversed. At last he rounded a projecting spur of the mountain; and here he beheld a scene which was more promising. A little distance off there was a bridge, which crossed the torrent. Beyond this the mountains sloped away in an easy declivity, where appeared several houses. On the other side of the bridge were two men. The sight filled Bob with joy, and fearing that the ass might once more take it into his head to run, he at once leaped off the animal's back, and walked towards the bridge. The ass, freed from his weight, trotted briskly away, and Bob followed. The noise of me ass trotting over the bridge roused the two men, and they walked across and caught him. One of them then held him, and the other walked towards Bob. As the latter approached, Bob noticed that he was dirty and bearded, and rather shabby. He had a coarse jacket, with brass buttons; a red flannel shirt, which was open, and disclosed a hairy breast; and coarse leather breeches with leggings. A conical felt hat was on the top of his head. Thusfar he was simply the counterpart of hundreds of other peasants in this part of the country, shepherds, drovers, wine-sellers, etc., such as he had encountered during his drive. But in one important respect ne was different. He had a gun in his hand. This gun at once made him seem more than a simple peasant. It made a profound impression upon Bob. And as the Italian approached, with his eyes fixed on the new comer, a strange and very natural suspicion was roused in Bob's mind. "It's a brigand!" he thought. "I'm lost!" CHAPTER VII. The Lurking-place of the Brigands.--The captive Boy.--The hideous Household.--The horrible old Hag.--The slattern Woman.--The dirty Children.--The old Crone and the evil Eye.--Despondency of Bob.--Is Escape Possible?--Night.-Imprisoned.--The Bed of Straw.--Outlook into the Night from the Prison Windows. A brigand!