Danger always sharpens my sense of the ridiculous, and the sight of Basil steadying himself with a pole, and striding through the mire with the long-legged Englishman on his back, fairly upset my gravity. He soon landed him, and came back for me; lifting me on one arm, and carrying me as easily and tenderly as if I had been little Nilo. Well! we scrambled up the pathless steep, through oaks and ashes of mushroom growth to a height of perhaps two hundred feet. It was troublesome climbing, for there was an undergrowth of brier and bramble which tore my clothes, and the sharp crags which jutted in all directions out of the ground cut my feet; nevertheless, I progressed rapidly, outstripping Spira and Mr Popham, and keeping alongside of Basil, who now and then stretched out a helping hand to me and nodded grim approval. No one uttered a word, and a sign from Basil made us understand that we were to keep in the shade, lest, perchance, some of the enemy might be straggling in our direction. I was growing tired and breathless, when our herculean guide signed to me to look upwards. My eye following the lead of his finger, travelled across a curtain of foliage--the delicate ash leaf, faded and ready to drop away; the sturdier oak, brown, yellow, dull green, or blotted with crimson. At the top of all was a hut perched on the edge of the cliff; that was Laurie's hut, Basil whispered. I could see the wall, built of rough stones, and a miserable little hole meant for a window, and a bright patch of red, probably a "strucca," stuffed into it to keep out the cold. At that sight I forgot my fatigue, and Mr Popham grew excited, and waved his cap over his head, crying, "Hurrah! Now go ahead, Mrs Englefield!" for which piece of boyish folly he received a frown from Basil, the darkest I ever saw on human face. We were brought here to a standstill by a smooth wall of rock about ten feet high. In order to get round it, we had to crawl some yards to our right, that is nearer to the scene of conflict. There were voices, trampling of feet, and the report of fire-arms, close by, as it seemed, but really on the shoulder of the hill, a quarter of a mile off. "More foes climbing the hill!" Basil muttered; "I know their tread. Why do not our men come down, and give them the meeting? Ah, they _are_ coming! praise to Saint Basil! I hear them--I see them;" and he lifted his head cautiously, and fixed his lynx eyes on a point where the hillside met the pale blue sky. "They are pouring down--twenty, thirty of them! Not one would stay behind, I warrant! Ah, why must I?" "Why must you, husband?" responded Spira, but in a submissive tone. "Go, and trust me to guide our lady to her husband. I will die sooner than any harm should befall her."