Without a moment’s thought, except that of helping a suffering fellow-being, Mr. Ellerton put spurs to his horse and clashed recklessly down the narrow path of the cliff—out of sight of the village, out of the reach of help—on, on into danger and treachery, and into the hands of a set of vile and heartless villains! Oh, why did he not heed that timely warning? He quickly gained the side of the prostrate man, and sprang to the ground to his assistance. Scarcely had his foot touched the earth when the man sprang to his feet, and covering Mr. Ellerton’s heart with a heavy revolver, shouted: “Stand, or your life is the forfeit!” Like a flash of lightning his situation rushed upon him, and he realized all too late how necessary had been the warnings he had that morning received! He knew he must have been followed and watched every step of the way from the hotel, and that the farce of the dismounted and injured rider had only been an ingenious trap, into which he had so readily fallen. His own hand involuntarily sought for his weapons of defense, but at that moment a slight rustling caused him to glance up, and he saw three more ruffians surrounding him. He realized at once how utterly vain and useless would be any attempt at resistance, and without a word he submitted to have his hands bound behind him. One of the villains now approached him with a folded handkerchief, remarking jocosely, with a tantalizing grin: “Neat little trap, wasn’t it? Now, if you please, we will cover up those peepers of yours, as you might be adding to your stock of information while we make our journey to the palace; and that would not suit the king you know.” The villain laughed a coarse laugh, in which he was heartily joined by his companions. “For what am I molested?” demanded Mr. Ellerton, with calm disdain, while he suffered himself to be blindfolded. “The king wants you,” was the reply. “What king?” “Why, our king. He has got no particular province as I know of. I may as well call him the King of the Cannibal Islands as anything else,” replied the ruffian, winking at his comrades. Again their rude laughter rang over the echoing hills. “Where are you taking me?” asked Mr. Ellerton, not deigning to notice the wretched attempt at witticism. “To the palace, as I informed you before; and to safe quarters I’ll warrant you. Come, tramp, for we are in a hurry,” and the poor man was seized by both arms and hurried roughly over the uneven path. He asked no more questions. His pride kept him silent, and he would not have calmly borne their coarse insolence had it been in his power to resent it. They traveled more than a mile in this manner, then after the same ceremonies of stamping, passing through secret passages and doors that his son had noticed, he was finally unbound, and found himself in a large stone cell comfortably furnished. The ruffians left him to himself after bolting and barring the door.