rom the loft overhead. I sprang up,
rubbing my eyes, and, between rubbing 'em, saw Sir John lower his gun
and stand back a pace. The next instant--_thud, thud!_--over the
eaves upon the roadway dropped Fett and Badcock and picked themselves
up as if to burst in through the window. No good! A second later
that ram was on top of them.

"How he had contrived to climb up the ladder and butt the pair over
the roof, there's no telling. But there he was; and gathering up his
legs from the fall as quick as lightning he headed them off from the
house and up the road. There was no violence. So far as one could
tell from the clouds of dust, he never hurt 'em once, but through the
dust we could see the Genoese staring as he nursed the pair up the
road straight into their arms. The queer part of it," wound up
Billy, reflectively, "was that, after the first moment, Sir John had
never the chance of a shot. You may doubt me, gentlemen, but Sir
John is a shot in a thousand, and, what with the dust and the
confusion, there was never a chance without risk to human life.
The Genoese giving back, in less than half a minute the road was
clear."

"But what happened?" asked my uncle.

"Well, sir, this here Corsica being an island, it follows that they
must have stopped somewhere. But where there's no telling."

"You never saw them again."

"Never," said Billy, solemnly; and, having asked and received
permission to light his pipe, resumed the tale.

"There being now no reason to loiter in Calenzana, we left the town
next morning and rode along the hill tracks to Muro, when again we
struck the high road running northward to the coast. Sir John had
sold Mr. Badcock's mule to our hosts in Calenzana, and here in Muro
he parted with our pair also, reck'nin' it safer to travel the next
stage on foot; since by all accounts we were about to skirt the
Genoese outposts to the east of Calvi. The Corsicans, to be sure,
held and patrolled the high road (by reason that every week-day a
train of waggons travelled along it with material for the new town
a-building on the seashore, at Isola Rossa), yet not so as to
guarantee it safe for a couple of chance riders. Also Sir John had
no mind to be stopped a dozen times and questioned by the Corsican
patrols. We kept, therefore, along the hills to the east of the
road; and on our way, having halted and slept a night in an olive
orchard about five miles from the coast, we woke up a little after