Before further remonstrance could be made, the active child had bounded up the pathway and disappeared.
Not long after Sam and his comrades had taken their departure, the pirates came up to the cavern in a body—about forty of them—well armed and ready to fight if need be. They were as rascally a set of cut-throats as one could desire to see—or, rather, not to see—of various nationality, with ugly countenances and powerful frames, which were clothed in more or less fantastic Eastern garb. Their language, like themselves, was mixed, and, we need scarcely add, unrefined. The little that was interchanged between them and Meerta we must, however, translate.
"What! alive still!" cried the ruffian, who appeared to be the leader of the band, flinging himself down on a couch with the air of a man who knew the place well, while his men made themselves at home.
Meerta merely smiled to the salutation; that is to say, she grinned.
"Where are they?" demanded the pirate-chief, referring of course to those who, the reader is aware, were blown up.
"Gone away," answered Meerta.
"Far away?" asked the pirate.
"Yes, very far away."
