“As I told you before, they spent all their money, and then in their desperation joined this band, all of whom swore to help each other in their troubles. About six years ago, while on duty in the United States, they accidentally discovered my unnatural father living in the most luxurious manner imaginable. They were witnesses of an event which was likely to affect him injuriously in the future, and treasured it up, hoping to use it against him. From that day to this they have followed him, tracking every step, until at last he has strangely come to the very place of all others they most wished him to come, and, they trust, a few days, or weeks at most, will give them their long sought triumph. “Perhaps you think it strange that I so love and cling to my uncles; but I do love them dearly, despite what they have come to be. They have been both father and mother to me, and are ever gentle and tender. I will not leave them, and go forth into the world, where I know I should find more congenial associations, for I feel that my love keeps them from committing many crimes which otherwise they might be led into.” “You are as noble as you are beautiful!” exclaimed Robert, in admiration, as the fair girl finished her narrative, to which he had listened with breathless interest. “Nay,” she replied, blushing deeply at his earnest words and gaze; “you forget how lonely I should be had I no one to love, or who loved me. They are all the relatives I have in the world.” “True; but this is no fit place for such as you to live in, and among all these rough villains, too.” “Oh, but I never see any but the chief and my uncles, unless it is, in such instances as yours, where I go to entertain with my poor efforts some poor person who has been taken captive.” “I need not tell you, my gentle friend, that blessings will ever follow you for your kind ministrations,” exclaimed Robert, enthusiastically. “And I trust,” he added, “the time may soon come when you may be liberated, and know earth’s brightest joys.” “I fear the sun will never brighten my pathway in life,” she returned, with a sigh, “for my destiny lies underground.” She shuddered as she spoke, and grew ashy pale. Robert regarded her in silence for a moment, then asked, gently: “Will you tell me why you fear this?” The question recalled her to herself, and she flushed a deep crimson, and buried her face in her fair hands. Our hero regarded her wonderingly, but did not press her for a reply. Presently she uncovered her face, and, without looking up, said: “The chief is not willing I should leave this place, at least, until he sees fit to remove me himself.” The truth flashed upon Robert at once. He realized that that great rough man wished to appropriate this delicate and lovely blossom to himself. His very soul revolted at the thought, and he inwardly vowed that if ever he escaped, his first duty should be to set at liberty this suffering maiden.