Their object was to extract a bribe from old Stoïko, to be suggested to him by the mayor. It was brigandage of the worst description, but they wished to give it the appearance of a voluntary gift: it was the system usually followed in such cases.

But old Stoïko did not move.

They looked at each other, astonished at his firmness, and cast ferocious glances at the old man.

"Did you hear what I said, you old fool?" cried the one-eyed zaptié.

"I've nothing to think about let me go home," he answered hoarsely.

The zaptiés could not contain themselves.

Mayor, throw the old fool down," cried the one-eyed ruffian, seizing his kourbash or Circassian whip.

The mayor and Tsanko begged for mercy for the old man. The only reply was a kick which felled Stoïko to the ground. Then blows followed fast on his body. Old Stoïko groaned heavily for some time, then became silent: he had fainted; his forehead was drenched with a cold sweat,- he was worn out by his day's work.

They undressed him to bring him to his senses.

"When he comes to himself, let me know; - I'll make him speak."

"For God's sake, Hajji Aga, I entreat you, have pity on the poor old man! He can't stand any more pain,- he'll die," said Tsanko entreatingly.

"Long live the Sultan, you rebel!" cried the short zaptié in a passion. "You deserve to be hanged yourself for harboring rebels in your house; you're very likely hiding the shepherd here somewhere. Let's search the house!"

Tsanko's face fell involuntarily. Although frenzied with drink, the one-eyed zaptié saw his confusion. He turned at once to

the short one:

"Youssouf Aga, there's something wrong here- let's search the ghiaour's house." And he arose.

"At your service," said Tsanko hoarsely, showing the way with a lantern.

He led them all over the house, leaving the closet to the last. Finally he lighted them there too. In the blackened ceiling there was a trap-door which led to the rafters, and so outside on to the roof. When it was closed it could not be noticed.

Tsanko knew that Ognianoff had climbed up through it to the rafters and replaced the cover. So he led the Turks in with the utmost confidence.

His first glance was towards the ceiling. What was his surprise to find the trap-door open!

Tsanko remained petrified where he stood. The Turks searched the closet.

"Where does that opening lead to?"

"To the rafters," muttered Tsanko.

His legs trembled under

him, and he had to cling to the wall for support.

The short zaptié noticed his terror.

"Just give a light here while I get up, will you?" he said; but a sudden thought crossed his mind, and he called to his comrade:

"Hassan Aga, you're taller than I am: get on the mayor's

back."

Hassan Aga knew no fear when he had got his skinful; drink made a hero of him. He at once climbed up over the mayor's shoulders.

"Now then, bring the light, confound you!"

Tsanko, white as a sheet, handed him the light mechanically. The zaptié first held the lantern in front of him, then put his head within the opening. From the motion of his body one could see he was searching with the light on every side.

At last he reappeared, jumped down, and said:

"Who is it you've been hiding there?"

Tsanko looked blankly at him. He did not know what answer to give. He had suffered so much that evening that he had almost lost his senses; his thoughts became confused. The question was repeated: he stammered out some meaningless reply.

"The rebel will give a proper answer at Klissoura. a better prison there; he can stop here for the night."

There's

And the zaptiés locked him up in the dark and chilly closet. Tsanko was so overwhelmed with terror and confusion that it was some minutes before he could collect his thoughts. He clasped his head with both hands, as if to retain his presence of mind. He was lacking in determination, and suffering had at once crushed him. He sobbed and groaned in despair.

There was a knock at the door, and Deïko's voice was heard:"What are you going to do now, Tsanko?"

"I don't know, Deïko.

Tell me what's best."

"Come, you know the Turks' weakness. You must give them something; it's the only way to get out of it: else they'll drag you from one court-house to another till you're utterly ruined. Poor old Stoïko could have spared himself this with a trifle. Give, Tsanko! give 'em your white silver to keep off black sorrow."

His wife came too, weeping bitterly:

"Let's give them what we can! Never mind, Tsanko: it's the only way to get out of the murderers' hands. They've killed poor old Stoïko. Dear, dear! to think I should live to see it." "But what are we to give, wife? You know we haven't any money."

"Let's give the necklace!"

"What! Donka's necklace, with the coins?"

"Yes, yes! it's all we have, it's the only way to get rid of them. Why, they're asking for Donka now-the cursed brutes!" "Do what God thinks best, wife. I'm all in a muddle," muttered Tsanko from his prison.

His wife and Deïko went away.

Soon after, a light shone through the chinks in the boards of the closet, and the door was unlocked.

"The Agas

"Come out, Tsanko: you're free," said Deïko. were good fellows after all. They've given you back the knife as well; so there's no cause for fear. You've got off cheap." And bending to his ear, he whispered low:

"It can't last much longer: either they'll finish us off, or we must them. This life can't go on like this."