“Our disguise was sufficient,” said the other, “and by-the-way, we may as well get rid of this black stuff now;” and as he spoke he dashed the water from alongside upon his face and hands, and removed a coat of black from them.

“Now give way again; let us get in, and separate before any one is stirring abroad.”

Leaving Krometz and his companion to pursue their own business, and the clipper craft with her course laid for the Sea of Marmora, we will, with the reader, return once more to the mountain side where we met Komel and Aphiz.

In time of peace, or rather when there was no open outbreak between the Circassians and the Russian forces, Aphiz Adegah passed his time in hunting among the rugged hills and cliffs, and with the early morn was abroad with his gun strapped to his back, and in his hand the long iron-pointed staff that helped him to climb the otherwise inaccessible rocks of the mountain’s sides.  Thus equipped, he came, in the morning referred to above, to the cottage of Komel’s parents, but, instead of the cheerful, happy welcome that usually greeted him on such occasions, he beheld consternation and misery written in the father’s face, while the mother wept as though her heart would break.

“What means this strange scene?” asked the young hunter, hastily.  “Where is Komel?”

“Alas! gone, gone,” sighed both.

“Gone!”

“Ay, gone forever.”

“What mean you? whither has she gone? what has happened to render you so miserable?”

Alas, Aphiz; Komel has gone to be the star of some proud Turkish harem,” said the father.

“And with your consent?”

“No!  O, no!”

“Nor by her own free will, that I know,” he continued, quickly.

“Alas! no; this night she was stolen from us, and we saw her borne away before our very eyes.”

“Was there no one by to strike a blow for her, no one to render you aid?”

“Yes, one there was, an honest friend who lives in the next cottage.  He was aroused by the noise, and outraged by the violence he beheld, he rushed upon the thieves, but they struck him bleeding and dead to the earth.  It was a terrible sight and poor Komel saw it as they carried her away, and uttered such a fearful, piercing scream that it seems to ring in our cars even now.  She fainted then in their arms, and we saw her no more.”

“Heaven guard her!” said Aphiz, with inward anguish expressed in his face.

“Amen!” said the aged father, with a deep, heartfelt sigh, full of sorrow.

This told the whole story of the previous night, and the last boat that put off from, the shore for the clipper schooner contained Komel as a prisoner, insensible to all about, abducted by her own countrymen, incited by the revengeful spirit of Krometz.  Actuated by the vilest motives himself, he had persuaded a companion, as we have seen, by a small bribe and the representation that Komel would in reality be better off than with her parents, to aid him in his object.  Krometz had not hesitated to receive the handsome sum that one so beautiful as Komel could not fail to command.