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Updated: June 8, 2025
As for Bob and me, they did not think it necessary to tie us. "Well, this is a delightful ending to our picnic," said Mr Moynham in lugubrious tones, as we all lay on the ground, with the exception of the guides, who appeared to mingle freely with the robbers, who were grouped in picturesque attitudes around us, leaning on their carbines. "I wonder what's their little game?"
The first part of our journey went off as jolly as possible: the way was good; the scenery although I confess I didn't trouble my head very much about it though dad and the captain were in raptures with it magnificent; the halts, just at the right time, although all in classic places, whose names Bob and I hated the sound of; the food was first- rate, and Mr Moynham so funny, that he nearly made me roll off my donkey every now and then with laughter.
It was princely gratitude, wasn't it, in spite of the slighting way in which Mr Moynham had spoken of the modern Greeks and their ways?
The false guides then went off cheerfully down hill towards the plains, whilst our cavalcade, encompassed by the brigands, moved towards those mountain fastnesses, "where they resided when they were at home," as Mr Moynham said.
Well, there was a splendid shawl, worth more than a hundred guineas, for Captain Buncombe, and a handsome jewelled pipe for dad; while Mr Joe Moynham had a case of Greek wines for his special self! Bob and I were not forgotten either.
There was dad, one; Captain Buncombe, two; Mr Joe Moynham, three; Bob, four; myself, Charley, five; and dog Rollo, six though I think, by rights, I ought to have counted Rollo first, as he was the best of us all, and certainly thought the least of himself brave, fine, black, curly old fellow that he was!
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