short flight of steps; and then, as he reached the top
unchallenged, a horrible sense of dread assailed him, for all was as
silent as it was dark, and he asked himself what had happened to his
friends.

He stood listening, but could hear nothing; and at last he gripped
Samson by the shoulder, and whispered--

"What does it mean? Have they gone?"

"That's what I was asking myself, sir. Speak--or shall I? Anybody
here?" he said aloud.

There was a whispering echo, nothing more, and Fred felt the cold
perspiration ooze from his brow, as he tried to imagine what could have
happened since they were there last.

Those moments seemed long-drawn minutes, and then relief came in a long,
low sigh; and as that ended, the breathing of a sleeper and a restless
movement were plainly heard from the corner of the vault.

"Hist!" whispered Samson; "hear that, sir?"

"Yes; they are asleep."

"No, sir; that behind us?"

"No."

"Listen."

Fred listened intently, and his hand went to the hilt of his sword, for,
sure enough, there was the sound of steps coming slowly and cautiously,
and as if he who made them listened, along the passage from the
direction of the lake.

"Some one tracking us," said Fred, with his lips to his follower's ear.
"Stand aside. Don't strike. Let him enter, and then we must seize and
gag him when I say `_Now_!'"

A pressure of Samson's ear against his lips told of his acquiescence,
and they stood, one on each side of the arched opening, waiting as the
steps came nearer, apparently more and more cautiously, till the
stairway was reached, against which whoever it was stumbled slightly,
and then ascended with many pauses, and stepped right inside the vault,
breathing heavily, and seeming to listen.

"What shall I do?" thought Fred. "Seize him, or what?"

"Master Fred--Master Fred, do say `_Now_', or our chance is gone," said
Samson to himself; and as if this was communicated to the young officer
by some peculiar sense, he was drawing in his breath previous to giving
the word and dashing at their tracker, when a low, piteous voice said
half aloud--

"Gone, or he has forgotten us. What shall--"

"Don't you talk like that o' Master Fred, sir," cried Samson, in
indignant tones.

"Scar!" cried Fred; and he threw his arms round his boyhood's companion,
who uttered a low sigh, and would have sunk to the stony floor but for
Fred's support.

"Samson."

"Well, sir, what did he mean by scaring u