It was a tempting offer, but the noble fellow resisted it. "Go to," he said, still in the same low voice. "What! leave our Nilo's preserver to the care of a woman, and of a prating boy that knows not how to take care of himself? Peace, woman! not another word!" We climbed the rock at the first practicable place, Basil mounting first, and lowering one end of his "strucca" for me to hold by. Mr Popham followed, saying, playfully, in my ear, "Ticklish work, ain't it; this holding on by one's nails and eyebrows?" Poor, poor John! yet why should I say so? No doubt, Providence ordered all that should befall him, and ordered it in mercy. He was of too yielding a nature, perhaps, to fight the battle of life, yet too tender-hearted and right-minded to err without anguish of spirit. Yes, I see now, and Laurie sees, that all was ordered for the best! But to proceed. We now crept towards the left, on a narrow ledge surmounted by a natural wall, similar to that we had scaled. This wall and the shelf beneath it, jutted out at one point so as to conceal all beyond it; when Basil reached the spot, he looked stealthily round the angle of the rock, drew back sharply, shouldered his gun, and signed to Mr Popham to do the same. At that instant, two shots were fired by the unseen foes, but fell harmless. Basil advanced, partially screened by the rock, took aim and fired; then I heard branches crashing. Certainly the enemy had been struck or fled; but there were more behind,--three, four, turbaned Turks pressing round the corner! Basil, seeing them, flung down his gun and threw himself upon the foremost. The Turk seemed not much behind him in strength, and for several terrible minutes they wrestled together, John Popham's threatening attitude as he stood ready to fire, keeping the others at bay. The struggle ended by Basil's enemy slipping his foot, and being flung down the steep. I know not whether he was badly hurt or not, but he gave us no more trouble, vanishing amid the brushwood with magic speed. His three comrades now showed some disposition to do the same, but Basil would not let them; he snatched, with a fierce smile, the gun I had reloaded (yes, I _could_ load a gun, your uncle had taught me to do that early in our married life), and fired it at the foremost man, but to my infinite relief, with no deadly effect. The poor fellow, though slightly wounded, summoned strength to dash over the precipice and make his escape. The third followed unhurt; only one remained, an elderly wrinkled man, who, it seemed, knew something of Christian and civilised usages; he threw down his gun, cast himself at John Popham's feet, and in an abject, yet piteous tone, exclaimed, "Quarter, quarter, noble sir; you are no Montenegrin to slay a helpless old man."