"Your gun is unloaded, and there are no more cartridges in your
_carchera_."[4]
"I have my stiletto."
"But could you run as fast as I can?"
With a bound he put himself out of reach.
"You are no son of Mateo Falcone! Will you let me be taken in front of
his house?"
The child seemed moved.
"What will you give me if I hide you?" he said, drawing nearer.
The bandit felt in the leather pocket that hung from his side and took
out a five-franc piece, which he had put aside, no doubt, for powder.
Fortunato smiled at the sight of the piece of silver, and, seizing hold
of it, he said to Gianetto--
"Don't be afraid."
He quickly made a large hole in a haystack which stood close by the
house. Gianetto crouched down in it, and the child covered him up so as
to leave a little breathing space, and yet in such a way as to make it
impossible for anyone to suspect that the hay concealed a man. He acted,
further, with the ingenious cunning of the savage. He fetched a cat and
her kittens and put them on the top of the haystack to make believe that
it had not been touched for a long time. Then he carefully covered over
with dust the bloodstains which he had noticed on the path near the
house, and, this done, he lay down again in the sun with the utmost
sangfroid.
Some minutes later six men with brown uniform with yellow collars,
commanded by an adjutant, stood before Mateo's door. This adjutant was a
distant relative of the Falcones. (It is said that further degrees of
relationship are recognised in Corsica than anywhere else.) His name was
Tiodoro Gamba; he was an energetic man, greatly feared by the banditti,
and had already hunted out many of them.
"Good day, youngster," he said, coming up to Fortunato. "How you have
grown! Did you see a man pass just now?"
"Oh, I am not yet so tall as you, cousin," the child replied, with a
foolish look.
"You soon will be. But, tell me, have you not seen a man pass by?"
"Have I seen a man pass by?"
"Yes, a man with a pointed black velvet cap and a waistcoat embroidered
in red and yellow."
"A man with a pointed cap and a waistcoat embroidered in scarlet and
yellow?"
"Yes; answer sharply and don't repeat my questions."
"The priest passed our door this morning on his horse Piero. He asked me
how papa was, and I replied----"
"You are making game of me, you rascal. Tell me at once which way
Gianetto went, for it is he we are after; I am certain he took this
path."
"How do you know that?"
"How do I know that? I know you have seen him."
"How can one see passers-by when one is asleep?"
"You were not asleep, you little demon: the gunshots would wake you."
"You think, then, cousin, that your guns make noise enough? My father's
rifle makes much more noise."
"May the devil take you, you young scamp. I am absolutely certain you
have seen Gianetto. Perhaps you have even hidden him. Here, you fellows,
go into the house, and see if our man is not there. He could only walk
on one foot, and he has too much common sense, the villain, to have
tried to reach the _mâquis_ limping. Besides, the traces of blood stop
here."
"Whatever will papa say?" Fortunato asked, with a chuckle. "What will he
say when he finds out that his house has been searched during his
absence?"
"Do you know that I can make you change your tune, you scamp?" cried the
adjutant Gamba, seizing him by the ear. "Perhaps you will speak when you
have had a thrashing with the flat of a sword."
Fortunato kept on laughing derisively.
"My father is Mateo Falcone," he said significantly.
"Do you know, you young scamp, that I can take you away to Corte or to
Bastia? I shall put you in a dungeon, on a bed of straw, with your feet
in irons, and I shall guillotine you if you do not tell me where
Gianetto Sanpiero is."
The child burst out laughing at this ridiculous menace.
"My father is Mateo Falcone," he repeated.
"Adjutant, do not let us embroil ourselves with Mateo," one of the
soldiers whispered.
Gamba was evidently embarrassed. He talked in a low voice with his
soldiers, who had already been all over the house. It was not a lengthy
operation, for a Corsican hut only consists of a single square room. The
furniture comprises a table, benches, boxes and utensils for cooking and
hunting. All this time little Fortunato caressed his cat, and seemed,
maliciously, to enjoy the confusion of his cousin and the soldiers.
One soldier came up to the haycock. He looked at the cat and carelessly
stirred the hay with his bayonet, shrugging his shoulders as though he
thought the precaution ridiculous. Nothing moved, and the face of the
child did not betray the least agitation.
The adjutant and his band were in despair; they looked solemnly out over
the plain, half inclined to return the way they had come; but their
chief, convinced that threats would produce no effect upon the son of
Falcone, thought he would make one last effort by trying the effect of
favours and presents.
"My boy," he said, "you are a wide-awake young dog, I can see. You will
get on. But you play a dangerous game with me; and, if I did not want to
give pain to my cousin Mateo, devil take it! I would carry you off with
me."
"Bah!"
"But, when my cousin returns I shall tell him all about it, and he will
give you the whip till he draws blood for having told me lies."
"How do you know that?"
"You will see. But, look here, be a good lad and I will give you
something."
"You had better go and look for Gianetto in the _mâquis_, cousin, for if
you stay any longer it will take a cleverer fellow than you to catch
him."
The adjutant drew a watch out of his pocket, a silver watch worth quite
ten crowns. He watched how little Fortunato's eyes sparkled as he looked
at it, and he held out the watch at the end of its steel chain.
"You rogue," he said, "you would like to have such a watch as this hung
round your neck, and to go and walk up and down the streets of
Porto-Vecchio as proud as a peacock; people would ask you the time, and
you would reply, 'Look at my watch!'"
"When I am grown up, my uncle the corporal will give me a watch."
"Yes; but your uncle's son has one already--not such a fine one as this,
however--for he is younger than you."
The boy sighed.
"Well, would you like this watch, kiddy?"
Fortunato ogled the watch out of the corner of his eyes, just as a cat
does when a whole chicken is given to it. It dares not pounce upon the
prey, because it is afraid a joke is being played on it, but it turns
its eyes away now and then, to avoid succumbing to the temptation,
licking its lips all the time as though to say to its master, "What a
cruel joke you are playing on me!"
The adjutant Gamba, however, seemed really willing to give the watch.
Fortunato did not hold out his hand; but he said to him with a bitter
smile--
"Why do you make fun of me?"
"I swear I am not joking. Only tell me where Gianetto is, and this watch
is yours."
Fortunato smiled incredulously, and fixed his black eyes on those of the
adjutant. He tried to find in them the faith he would fain have in his
words.
"May I lose my epaulettes," cried the adjutant, "if I do not give you
the watch upon that condition! I call my men to witness, and then I
cannot retract."
As he spoke, he held the watch nearer and nearer until it almost
touched the child's pale cheeks. His face plainly expressed the conflict
going on in his mind between covetousness and the claims of hospitality.
His bare breast heaved violently almost to suffocation. All the time the
watch dangled and twisted and even hit the tip of his nose. By degrees
he raised his right hand towards the watch, his finger ends touched it;
and its whole weight rested on his palm although the adjutant still held
the end of the chain loosely.... The watch face was blue.... The case
was newly polished.... It seemed blazing in the sun like fire.... The
temptation was too strong.
Fortunato raised his left hand at the same time, and pointed with his
thumb over his shoulder to the haycock against which he was leaning. The
adjutant understood him immediately, and let go the end of the chain.
Fortunato felt himself sole possessor of the watch. He jumped up with
the agility of a deer, and stood ten paces distant from the haycock,
which the soldiers at once began to upset.
It was not long before they saw the hay move, and a bleeding man came
out, poniard in hand; when, however, he tried to rise to his feet his
stiffening wound prevented him from standing. He fell down. The adjutant
threw himself upon him and snatched away his dagger. He was speedily and
strongly bound, in spite of his resistance.
Gianetto was bound and laid on the ground like a bundle of faggots. He
turned his head towards Fortunato, who had come up to him.
"Son of ----," he said to him more in contempt than in anger.
The boy threw to him the silver piece that he had received from him,
feeling conscious that he no longer deserved it; but the outlaw took no
notice of the action. He merely said in a cool voice to the adjutant--
"My dear Gamba, I cannot walk; you will be obliged to carry me to the
town."
"You could run as fast as a kid just now," his captor retorted brutally.
"But don't be anxious, I am glad enough to have caught you: I would
carry you for a league on my own back and not feel tired. All the same,
my friend, we will make a litter for you out of the branches and your
cloak. The farm at Crespoli will provide us with horses."
"All right," said the prisoner; "I hope you will put a little straw on
your litter to make it easier for me."
While the soldiers were busy, some making a rough stretcher out of
chestnut boughs and others dressing Gianetto's wound, Mateo Falcone and
his wife suddenly appeared in a turning of the path from the _mâquis_.
The wife came in bending laboriously under the weight of a huge sack of
chestnuts, while her husband jaunted up carrying his gun in one hand,
and a second gun slung in his shoulder-belt. It is considered
undignified for a man to carry any other burden but his weapons.
When he saw the soldiers, Mateo's first thought was that they had come
to arrest him. But he had no ground for this fear, he had never
quarrelled with the law. On the contrary he bore a good reputation. He
was, as the saying is, particularly well thought of. But he was a
Corsican, and mountain bred, and there are but few Corsican mountaineers
who, if they search their memories sufficiently, cannot recall some
little peccadillo, some gunshot, or dagger thrust, or such-like
bagatelle. Mateo's conscience was clearer than most, for it was fully
ten years since he had pointed his gun at any man; yet at the same time
he was cautious, and he prepared to make a brave defence if needs be.
"Wife, put down your sack," he said, "and keep yourself in readiness."
She obeyed immediately. He gave her the gun which was slung over his
shoulder, as it was likely to be the one that would inconvenience him
the most. He held the other gun in readiness, and proceeded leisurely
towards the house by the side of the trees which bordered the path,
ready to throw himself behind the largest trunk for cover, and to fire
at the least sign of hostility. His wife walked close behind him holding
her reloaded gun and her cartridges. It was the duty of a good
housewife, in case of a conflict, to reload her husband's arms.
On his side, the adjutant was very uneasy at the sight of Mateo
advancing thus upon them with measured steps, his gun pointed and finger
on trigger.
"If it happens that Gianetto is related to Mateo," thought he, "or he is
his friend, and he means to protect him, two of his bullets will be put
into two of us as sure as a letter goes to the post, and he will aim at
me in spite of our kinship!..."
In this perplexity, he put on a bold face and went forward alone towards
Mateo to tell him what had happened, greeting him like an old
acquaintance. But the brief interval which separated him from Mateo
seemed to him of terribly long duration.
"Hullo! Ah! my old comrade," he called out. "How are you, old fellow? I
am your cousin Gamba."
Mateo did not say a word, but stood still; and while the other was
speaking, he softly raised the muzzle of his rifle in such a manner that
by the time the adjutant came up to him it was pointing sky-wards.
"Good day, brother,"[5] said the adjutant, holding out his hand. "It is
a very long time since I saw you."
"Good day, brother."
"I just called in when passing to say 'good day' to you and cousin Pepa.
We have done a long tramp to-day; but we must not complain of fatigue,
for we have taken a fine catch. We have got hold of Gianetto Sanpiero."
"Thank Heaven!" exclaimed Giuseppa. "He stole one of our milch goats
last week."
Gamba rejoiced at these words.
"Poor devil!" said Mateo, "he was hungry."
"The fellow fought like a lion," continued the adjutant, slightly
nettled. "He killed one of the men, and, not content to stop there, he
broke Corporal Chardon's arm; but that is not of much consequence, for
he is only a Frenchman.... Then he hid himself so cleverly that the
devil could not have found him. If it had not been for my little cousin
Fortunato, I should never have discovered him."
"Fortunato?" cried Mateo.
"Fortunato?" repeated Giuseppa.
"Yes; Gianetto was concealed in your haycock there, but my little cousin
showed me his trick. I will speak of him to his uncle the corporal, who
will send him a nice present as a reward. And both his name and yours
will be in the report which I shall send to the superintendent."
"Curse you!" cried Mateo under his breath.
By this time they had rejoined the company. Gianetto was already laid on
his litter, and they were ready to set out. When he saw Mateo in Gamba's
company he smiled a strange smile; then, turning towards the door of the
house, he spat on the threshold.
"It is the house of a traitor!" he exclaimed.
No man but one willing to die would have dared to utter the word
"traitor" in connection with Falcone. A quick stroke from a dagger,
without need for a second, would have immediately wiped out the insult.
But Mateo made no other movement beyond putting his hand to his head
like a dazed man.
Fortunato went into the house when he saw his father come up. He
reappeared shortly carrying a jug of milk, which he offered with
downcast eyes to Gianetto.
"Keep off me!" roared the outlaw.