_III.--A Way of Escape_


And so it proved. Two days afterwards the king was explaining to me his
scheme for transforming brigandage into a peaceful orderly system of
taxation, when four shots were fired in the distance.

"Get out the Aegean wine," he said. "Pericles is coming with some
troops."

Sixty soldiers came marching into the camp. Captain Pericles, whose
figure I had often admired at Athens, ran up to Hadgi Stavros, and
kissed him.

"Good news, my dear godfather! The paymaster-general is sending £1,000
to Argos this morning by the path near the Scironian Rocks," said the
captain.

"Splendid, my boy!" said the king. "I'll go with all my men at once.
Guard the camp, and write out the report of our battle. Defeat me if you
like, but leave ten of your best troops dead on the field. I am in need
of recruits. Look after the three prisoners. They're worth £4,600."

As Hadgi Stavros marched out at the head of his men, they sang a song
composed by their king when he knew Lord Byron:

Down the winding valleys a hillsman went his way;
His eyes were black and flaming, his gun was clean and bright
He cried unto the vultures: "Oh, follow me to-day,