“Are they armed?” inquired Victor, who was shivering as if cold. 

 “Oh, yes,” said she. “They have guns and swords and pistols and axes and—and—” 

 “And what?” demanded Lugui. 

 “And cannons!” 

 The three wicked ones groaned aloud and Beni said, in a hollow voice: 

 “I hope they will kill us quickly and not put us to the torture. I have been told these Americans are painted Indians, who are bloodthirsty and terrible.” 

 “’Tis so!” gasped the fat man, with a shudder. 

 Suddenly Martha turned from the window. 

 “You are my friends, are you not?” she asked. 

 “We are devoted!” answered Victor. 

 “We adore you!” cried Beni. 

 “We would die for you!” added Lugui, thinking he was about to die anyway. 

 “Then I will save you,” said the girl. 

 “How?” asked the three, with one voice. 

 “Get back into the chest,” she said. “I will then close the lid, so they will be unable to find you.” 

 They looked around the room in a dazed and irresolute way, but she exclaimed: 

 “You must be quick! They will soon be here to arrest you.” 

 Then Lugui sprang into the chest and lay flat upon the bottom. Beni tumbled in next and packed himself in the back side. Victor followed after pausing to kiss her hand to the girl in a graceful manner. 

 Then Martha ran up to press down the lid, but could not make it catch. 

 “You must squeeze down,” she said to them. 

 Prev. P 8/83 next