into its dark, mysterious depths.

They see nought save the sparkle of fire-flies; and hear nothing but the
usual noises of the Southern night, to which they have been from infancy
accustomed.

But as they are about moving on again, a sound salutes their ear--
distinguishable as a footstep. Irregular and scrambling, as of one
stepping among the broken bricks. Simultaneously a man is seen making
his way over the wall.

"Fernand!"

No use for them now to attempt concealment; no good can come of it. He
has seen them.

Nor does he any longer seem desirous of shunning observation. On the
contrary, leaping down from the rampart, he comes straight towards them;
in an instant presenting himself face to face, not with the nimble air
of a servant, but the demeanour of one who feels himself master, and
intend to play tyrant. With the moon shining full upon his tawny face,
they can distinguish the play of its features. No look of humility, nor
sign of subservience there. Instead, a bold, bullying expression, eyes
emitting a lurid light, lips set in a satanic smile, between them teeth
gleaming like a tiger's! He does not speak a word. Indeed, he has not
time; for Helen Armstrong anticipates him. The proud girl, indignant at
what she sees, too fearless to be frightened, at once commences chiding
him.

In words bold and brave, so much that, if alone, the scoundrel might
quail under their castigation. But he is not alone, nor does he allow
her to continue.

Instead, he cries out, interrupting, his speech not addressed to her,
but some one behind:--

"Bring hither the serapes! Quick, or--"

He himself is not permitted to finish what he intended saying; or, if
so, his last words are unheard; drowned by a confused noise of rushing
and rumbling, while the gap in the garden wall is suddenly closed, as if
by enchantment. It is at first filled by a dark mass, seemingly
compact, but soon separating into distinct forms.

The sisters, startled, terrified, have but time to give out one wild
cry--a shriek. Before either can utter a second, brawny arms embrace
them; blinds are thrown over their faces; and, half stifled, they feel
themselves lifted from their feet, and borne rudely and rapidly away!

CHAPTER FIFTY ONE.

LOCKED IN.

At that same moment, when the red Sabines are carrying off his
daughters, Colonel Armstrong is engaged, with his fellow-colonists, in
discussing a question of great interest to all. T