Chapter Fifty One.
On the Trail.
It is scarce necessary to say that the appeal made by the brother and father of the abducted girl found a ready response in the hearts of the Republican volontieri. It came upon them with the force of a double call; for in addition to dictates of humanity, the men looked upon brigandage as a part of the despotic government they had just overthrown. The sindico too had claims upon them; for it was known to their leaders that he had long secretly sympathised with their cause, his oath of office keeping him from any open demonstrations in their favour. Besides, his son, encountered by mere accident as they were issuing from the gates of Rome, had declared along with them, and was now one of themselves. Under such circumstances there could be no desire to withhold assistance from their newly-enrolled comrades. Nor was there any such, but, on the contrary, an enthusiasm coupled with a unanimous determination to take steps for the rescue of his sister.
As soon, therefore, as Guardiola and his troop were disposed of, by being disarmed and placed in charge of a detailed guard, preparations were entered upon for the pursuit of Corvino and his bandits. Luigi Torreani, a prey to the agony of a terrible apprehension, would have started off after them at once, and so too the young Englishman. But the leader of the Republican battalion—Rossi by name—was a man of more prudent impulses, and saw that such a step would only defeat the purpose they had in view. He had been himself an officer in the Neapolitan army, and had plenty of experience in the chasing of banditti. He well knew that any open pursuit of these watchful outlaws could end only in a ridiculous failure. The brigands themselves often witnessing such a result from the crest of some inaccessible cliff, will hail it with taunts and scornful laughter. It is true that in the present case there was an advantage. The rendezvous of the robbers was known. Their late captive could guide the pursuing party to the spot—a chance not often obtained. So far all seemed well; but not to the experienced pursuer of banditti.
“The advantage will be lost,” argued Signor Rossi, “if any attempt be made to approach by daylight. Their vedettes would see us from afar, and give them time to decamp. We must make our march in the night; and now that we know their den, there is some chance of our being able to entrap them.”
Some chance! The phrase fell harshly on the ears of Luigi Torreani, his father, and his friend. It was torture to think of any delay—to contemplate starting only after nightfall, with twenty miles of mountain road between them and the dearest object of their affections, perhaps at that moment struggling in the embrace of a bandit! To the three individuals most interested the suspense was simply agonising; and, to speak the truth, there were many of the others who only affected it, both townsmen and volontieri. Could nothing be done in the way of an immediate pursuit?
All knew well that to follow the five who had carried off the sindico’s daughter would be an idle chase; for much time had elapsed, and with the knowledge the bandits possessed of the mountain passes, they must long since have placed themselves in security. The only hope was in finding them at the rendezvous described by their escaped captive.
Was there no way by which this might be clandestinely approached during the daylight? No. It would be night before the brigands themselves would reach it. It was now midday, and the distance was at least twenty miles. Night would be the time for attack, and it also needed this to cover their approach throughout the intervening twenty miles. Otherwise surprise would be impossible; there would be vedettes along the line—if not brigands themselves, their manutengoli—peasants or shepherds. So said the leader, Rossi, and with reason. Was there any way out of the dilemma—any plan by which the brigands’ nest might be captured that night, and before another crime could be committed? The thought of another crime was in the minds of all—not more the relatives of the abducted girl than those who had volunteered to assist in her rescue?
Who could suggest a feasible plan?
“I,” said a man, stepping forward into the midst of the council, which was held in the open piazza. “If you’ll follow my advice, and accept my guidance, I think I can put you in the way you want. Besides rescuing the daughter of the worthy sindico here, you may capture the whole of Corvino’s band—with whom for many months I have been unwillingly compelled to associate.”
“Tommaso!” exclaimed the sindico, recognising his old retainer.
“Dio Santo!” cried the leader of the Revolutionists, seeing before him a man known as having suffered in the good cause—a victim of the Vatican, who had preferred brigandage to rotting in a Roman prison. “Signor Tommaso, is it you?”
“It is I, Captain Rossi; thank heaven, no longer compelled to skulk away among the hills and conceal myself from the sight of old friends, herding, as I have done, with the vilest scum of mankind; thank heaven and Giuseppe Mazzini! Long live the Republic!”
A general shaking of hands between Tommaso and the volontieri succeeded, many of the latter being old acquaintances, who had known him during his residence in the city of Rome.
Not less friendly was the grasp given by the young Englishman, who was now certain that his mysterious correspondent, the donor of the knife, was no other than Tommaso. But there was no time to be wasted in idle congratulations. It was not the occasion for them, with a cloud still hanging over their hearts, and Tommaso was not the man to need prompting.
“Follow me,” he said, speaking to Rossi, the sindico, and his son. “I know a way by which we can reach the place without being seen, and before sunset if need be. But they will not get home until midnight; and, by that time, we shall have them all in a trap—completely surrounded, and leaving no loophole of escape. Now, we must start at once. There is no time to linger; for the path we are to take is long and difficult.”
None hesitated to accept his proposal, or sought further explanation; and in less than ten minutes after, the Republican volontieri, leaving sufficient of their number to guard their soldier-prisoners, marched out of Val di Orno. They took their way towards the Neapolitan frontier, under the guidance of Tommaso, still wearing the garb of a brigand.