GARIBALDI PERFORMS
The shed had been hastily put together, and served as a place for picks
and shovels. There were so many of them, in fact, that Lucia at first
had difficulty in finding a place to stand, but by rearranging them she
cleared a portion of the floor and sat down to think.
The shed was by no means airtight, for the boards had been nailed up so
far apart that not only did the air and light enter between the cracks,
but it was also possible for Lucia to see everything that was going on
about her.
At first it looked as if the soldiers were just hurrying about
aimlessly, but by watching them closely, especially the guard that had
caught her, she saw that they were preparing to leave.
A bugle sounded from a dugout at the end of the passage, and all the
soldiers in sight fell into marching order and waited at attention.
Then the officer who had ordered Lucia shut up in the tool-house, gave
them some orders that she could not understand.
One soldier came over to the shed and unlocked the door. He beckoned
Lucia to step outside, and as the men filed past the door he handed
each one a pick and shovel. When they had all received them, and Lucia
expected to return, the Captain spoke to her. His Italian was so very
bad she pretended not to understand.
"What is your name?" was his first question.
Lucia shook her head.
"Your name?" he persisted. "Marie, Louise, Josephine?"
"No, Señor," Lucia replied bewildered.
"Well then, what is it?"
"I don't understand."
"Your name?"
"No, Señor."
"Your name? Have you no sense--stupid!" The Captain's patience was
fast giving way.
Now to call an Italian stupid is the worst possible insult, and Lucia's
cheeks flushed hotly. She was very angry, and she determined not to
reply now at any cost. She shook her head therefore, and a very
stubborn and unpromising light came into her brown eyes.
The Captain looked at her in disgust.
"Well, I suppose your name does not matter anyway," he said gruffly.
"Where do you live?"
Another shake of the small black head, and an expressive shrug.
"You live in Cellino, so why not say so? Come, no more sulking. If
you won't answer me of your own free will, you must be made to answer."
"No, Señor," Lucia smiled provokingly.
"No--what in thunder do you mean?"
"No, Señor," there was not a trace of impertinence in her face.
The officer looked at her in despair.
"Do you, or don't you understand what I am saying?" he demanded.
"No, Señor," Lucia reiterated.
"Where is the soldier who found this girl?" the Captain shouted to an
orderly.
Lucia did not understand what he said, but she knew that her captor was
well out of sight with his pick and shovel by now, and in all
probability would not return and give her away, and she was beginning
to enjoy the part of a "stupid."
Just as the Captain turned to continue his questioning, Garibaldi, who
had been grazing about unmolested at a little distance from the shed,
saw Lucia and came bounding over to her. In her delight at finding her
young mistress she very nearly succeeded in butting over the officer.
Lucia had difficulty in repressing a smile, but she put her arms around
the goat's neck and patted her.
"Does that animal belong to you?" The Captain demanded, puffing a
little in the effort to retain his balance.
Lucia only smiled and nodded. Garibaldi kicked up her heels in an
ecstasy of joy and sent the soft mud flying. The Captain's anger broke
all bounds.
"Take that animal and shoot her," he demanded, but before the soldier
could obey, he withdrew the order. "Tie her to the tree instead, we
may be able to milk her," he said.
The soldier nodded and advanced towards Garibaldi with ponderous
assurance, but Garibaldi was not going to be tied, she preferred her
freedom. She was not, however, unwilling to play a friendly game of
tag; it was her favorite sport and she was very proficient in it. When
the big soldier would come within reach of her, she would lower her
head and duck under his arm, and before the astonished pursuer could
collect his wits and look around, she would be browsing innocently
close by.
This game kept up for a long time. The men who were in sight dropped
what they were doing and made an admiring circle; even the Captain had
to smile. Lucia wanted to laugh outright, but she managed to keep her
face set in grave lines.
At last the soldier gave up the chase and retired among the jeers of
his comrades to the side lines. The Captain saw an opportunity to
amuse his men, and perhaps end their grumbling for the time being. He
offered a reward to the man that could catch the goat.
First one soldier and then another attempted it, but none of them
succeeded. After a while the fun of the chase wore off for Garibaldi,
and she became angry. She had a little trick of butting that had won
her Beppi's dislike, and she used it to the discomfiture of the
Austrian army.
Lucia saw them one after another rub their shins and their knees, for
although Garibaldi did not have horns, her head was very, very hard
indeed, and she was afraid that some one of them might grow angry and
hurt her pet. She looked at the officer and pointed to the goat.
"I can catch her," she said simply.
"Well, do it then," the Captain replied.
Lucia called softly and made a queer clicking noise. Garibaldi stopped
butting, and walked soberly over to her. She smiled good-naturedly at
the men, and tied the rope that one of them handed to her around the
goat's neck. One of the soldiers pointed to a tree behind the shed,
and she tied the rope securely around it Garibaldi protested mildly,
but she patted her and left her lying contentedly in the mud.
She took time to look hastily about her before returning to the shed.
The tree to which the goat was tied was on the edge of a steep hill
that fell away abruptly from the little clearing.
Lucia looked down it, and could hardly believe her eyes; for there, far
below, was a silver stream glistening in the sunshine, and she realized
with a sense of thankfulness that it could be no other than the little
river that flowed below the west wall of Cellino, and right under the
windows of the Convent. If she could only get away, it would be an
easier matter to go back that way, than over the dangerous route by
which she had come. But she was not very eager to return at once, for
the idea that had come to her earlier in the day still tempted her to
wait and listen.
When she returned to the shed the Captain was nowhere in sight, and one
of the soldiers pointed to the open door. She nodded and walked in,
the key grated in the lock, and she was once more a prisoner.