The pressure upon Stubbs’ hand tightened and tightened until the little man winced with the pain of it; but he made no outcry—­only smiled as he exclaimed in a broken voice: 

“Nonsense!  Nonsense!”

“Well, good-bye, all,” said Nikol faintly, after a moment’s pause.  “Good—­”

The pressure on Stubbs’ hand relaxed and the little dwarf of the Albanian hills fell back, dead.

Stubbs rose and brushed the tears from his eyes.  Then, after one look at the still form on the ground, he turned and walked away.  The others said nothing, for they knew his grief was great.

And now, while the others—­all good friends and true—­are gathered about the body of little Nikol, the dwarf, we shall leave them once more, knowing that, after days and weeks of strenuous adventures and grave perils, they are, for the moment at least, in a land of peace.

THE END.