As soon as they landed at the capital city they started for the post-office, to learn if anything in the shape of a letter had been left for one or another of the party. They found the streets crowded with people of all nationalities and for the first time learned how Fort de France had received a shower of dust and stones, and how everybody had been terrorized and business brought to a standstill. “It’s a fearful state of affairs,” said Sam. “They won’t recover from this for years.” “St. Pierre will never recover, Samuel,” returned the professor. “The eruption has----” Professor Strong stopped short, for a cry from Mark had interrupted him. The youth was pointing up a street to their left. “See! see! There is a crowd of negroes and they are beating a white man! If somebody don’t help the white fellow they will kill him!” They started forward, and were soon on the edge of the crowd which numbered fully a dozen colored men. In the very midst was the white man Mark had mentioned. His hat was off, his collar and tie loose, his shirt torn, and he was fighting desperately. One cheek was bleeding from a long cut and his left arm hung limply at his side. “It is Dan Markel!” ejaculated Darry. “Dan Markel, the fellow who once swindled Hockley!” The crowd around the man was yelling fiercely and striking at every available opportunity. Dan Markel was yelling in return, but nobody appeared to listen to him. “We must do something, or he’ll surely be killed,” said Frank. By this time Professor Strong was close to the crowd. “Stop!” he called out, in French. “Stop! What does this mean?” “He is a rascal!” said one native, wrathfully. “He is not fit to live!” “He robbed the dead,” said another. “We saw him doing it--up at the Ladarosa plantation.” “Let me go!” screamed Markel, in English. “It’s all a mistake.” By this time the crowd was growing larger, and the shouting continued, until to make out what one individual was saying was impossible. Those nearest to Markel continued to strike at the man from Baltimore, until he went down from a blow on the head, and several in the crowd fell on top of him. It was at this critical moment that several gens-d’armes appeared. They were doing police duty in that neighborhood, and at once set to work to restore peace. But it was not without great difficulty that they succeeded in quieting the negroes, who insisted upon it that Dan Markel be arrested. “He is a looter--a robber of the dead,” said one of the natives. And then he explained that he was an assistant foreman on the Ladarosa plantation not far from St. Pierre. The master of the plantation had been killed, along with several others of the household, while the negroes had fled to a rocky cave for safety. On returning to the house two days after the first eruption they had found Dan Markel there and in the act of stealing the silverware and jewelry. Markel had escaped them but they remembered his face well.