Now I had grapes enough for a dozen, but then Jackson was all swollen up with courage, too, and he was obliged to enter a vineyard presently.  The first bunch he seized brought trouble.  A frowsy, bearded brigand sprang into the road with a shout, and flourished a musket in the light of the moon!  We sidled toward the Piraeus—­not running you understand, but only advancing with celerity.  The brigand shouted again, but still we advanced.  It was getting late, and we had no time to fool away on every ass that wanted to drivel Greek platitudes to us.  We would just as soon have talked with him as not if we had not been in a hurry.  Presently Denny said, “Those fellows are following us!”

We turned, and, sure enough, there they were—­three fantastic pirates armed with guns.  We slackened our pace to let them come up, and in the meantime I got out my cargo of grapes and dropped them firmly but reluctantly into the shadows by the wayside.  But I was not afraid.  I only felt that it was not right to steal grapes.  And all the more so when the owner was around—­and not only around, but with his friends around also.  The villains came up and searched a bundle Dr. Birch had in his hand, and scowled upon him when they found it had nothing in it but some holy rocks from Mars Hill, and these were not contraband.  They evidently suspected him of playing some wretched fraud upon them, and seemed half inclined to scalp the party.  But finally they dismissed us with a warning, couched in excellent Greek, I suppose, and dropped tranquilly in our wake.  When they had gone three hundred yards they stopped, and we went on rejoiced.  But behold, another armed rascal came out of the shadows and took their place, and followed us two hundred yards.  Then he delivered us over to another miscreant, who emerged from some mysterious place, and he in turn to another!  For a mile and a half our rear was guarded all the while by armed men.  I never traveled in so much state before in all my life.

It was a good while after that before we ventured to steal any more grapes, and when we did we stirred up another troublesome brigand, and then we ceased all further speculation in that line.  I suppose that fellow that rode by on the mule posted all the sentinels, from Athens to the Piraeus, about us.

Every field on that long route was watched by an armed sentinel, some of whom had fallen asleep, no doubt, but were on hand, nevertheless.  This shows what sort of a country modern Attica is—­a community of questionable characters.  These men were not there to guard their possessions against strangers, but against each other; for strangers seldom visit Athens and the Piraeus, and when they do, they go in daylight, and can buy all the grapes they want for a trifle.  The modern inhabitants are confiscators and falsifiers of high repute, if gossip speaks truly concerning them, and I freely believe it does.