The word Garibaldi attracted a second Italian, a short, fat man, with huge, flat face, who was at once apprised of the find. He asked Sam to let him have it for examination.
Sam refused to let it pass from his hands, explaining that this man had claimed it, but seemingly was unable to identify it. “I will deliver it to the officer,” and he beckoned a policeman to approach.
There followed instantly a lively colloquy between the two Italians, the second one declaring it belonged to Giuseppe—for he had seen him with it, and he turned to Sam.
“That man,” indicating the fruit vendor, on express wagon license number 346, “is own it. I’m sure he will it tell-a you so,” and he shouted, “Giuseppe!”
Giuseppe heard and shouted back, “Ta-rah-rah!”
As they moved toward him the short man continued to address Sam. “His fadder was wit Garibaldi at Palestrino.”
“Giuseppe, have you lost your fadder’s medal?”
Giuseppe had stepped from his wagon to the curb. With a surprised look he instantly replied, “No! Eesa len eem to deeza fren.”
“When you len eem?” the short, fat man asked.
“Eesa bout five-six day. Why for youse-a ax deeze-a question?”