Tatò met him at Piedimonte in person, instead of sending down his man, and in obedience to Tebaldo's telegram he had brought a light conveyance in which the two sat side by side, with Tebaldo's little valise at their feet, and his rifle between them. They were old acquaintances, for Tatò had driven the Corleone family for years himself, and by deputy, as it were, while he had been serving his time in Ponza. He had a profound respect for Tebaldo, for he knew how the latter with his brothers had long ago led the soldiers astray when pursuing the brigands in the neighbourhood of Camaldoli There was probably no man in that part of the country who knew as much about people of all sorts and conditions, and about their movements, as the smart-looking owner of the stable at Piedimonte, nor anyone who could keep his own counsel better. He was a thorough type of the 'maffeuso,' at all points, as San Giacinto had at first observed to Orsino. San Giacinto had always believed that the man had known of Ferdinando's intended attack, and of the pitfall in the avenue.
Tatò told Tebaldo that he had driven San Giacinto alone up to Camaldoli on the previous evening, returning during the night.
'What courage!' he exclaimed, with some genuine admiration, as he spoke of the big man. 'After all that has happened! He is a man of iron, full of courage and blood.'
'There was no particular danger in driving up to Camaldoli,' observed Tebaldo, indifferently.
Tatò looked at him curiously for a moment, to see whether he were in earnest.
'Then you do not know?' he enquired. 'They are in the woods above Maniace.'
'They' means the outlaws, or the carabineers, as the sense requires.
Tebaldo looked quickly at Tatò in his turn.
'How many?' he asked.
'A dozen or fifteen,' said Tatò. 'There is Mauro, and Leoncino, and the one they call Schiantaceci—he was a gentleman of Palermo, but no one knows his real name, and the Moscio—eh, there are many! Who knows all their names? But Mauro is with them.'