Out with Garibaldi: A story of the liberation of Italy

by G. A. Henty

Frank could hear no more, but rising quietly, he retraced his steps at a run, and as soon as he joined his companions gave a low whistle, which in a minute brought Sarto to his side.

“It is as I feared,” he said: “they laid an ambush for Rubini, and shot down half his men at once; the rest kept together and fought till all but six or seven were killed, and these burst through them and took to flight; and I am afraid that those shots we heard told that some even of these were overtaken and killed. Now let us be going; there were only about eight men in the party who first came along, and we may be sure that nothing will be attempted until the rest arrive. The men had noticed our lights in the tower, and evidently expected that we should sell our lives dearly; at any rate, we can calculate upon at least half an hour before they break into the church and find that we have left.”

They were obliged to go cautiously before they gained the road beyond the village, and then they broke into a trot.

“Half an hour will mean something like four miles,” Frank said; “and as it is not likely that they can run much faster than we are going, we may safely calculate that they will not overtake us for over an hour after they do start, and by that time we shall be well within five miles of Bronte. Indeed, with the slope in our favour, I am not sure that we may not calculate upon reaching the town itself; they certainly ought not to be able to run fifteen miles while we are running eleven.”

“If they do we should deserve to be caught,” Maffio said; “but I should think that they would not follow us far, as, for anything they can tell, we may have left the church a couple of hours ago.”

There were few words spoken as they ran steadily along. The thought of the slaughter of so many of their friends oppressed them all, and the fact that they had personally escaped was, at present, a small consolation. Frank had not been long enough with the company to make the acquaintance of many of the men, but he felt the loss of Rubini extremely. At Genoa, during the voyage, and on the march to Palermo, they had been constantly together, and the older man had treated him with as much cordiality and kindness as if he had been a young brother. Frank regretted now that he had not even more strongly urged his doubts as to the expediency of the expedition, though he felt that, even had he done so, his remonstrances would have been unavailing, so convinced were Rubini and Zippo of the sincerity and good faith of the woman. As it seemed, in this respect they had been right, and he had not pressed more strongly upon them the probability of her being followed when she left the brigands after the murder of her husband. It was so natural a thing that this should be so, that he wondered it had not struck him at once. Had he urged the point, Rubini might have listened to him, and his fatal expedition might not have taken place.

It seemed to him a heartbreaking affair, and as he ran he wiped away more than one tear that ran down his cheeks. After keeping on at the same speed for three or four miles, Frank heard, by the hard breathing of his companions, that their powers were failing; he himself was running quite easily, his school training being of good service to him, and after the long runs at hare and hounds across country, four miles down hill was a trifle to him. He had, too, the advantage of not having to carry a musket and ammunition.

“We had better walk for a few hundred yards and get our breath again,” he said. And the order was thankfully obeyed.

“Are you ready to trot on?” he asked, five minutes later; and on a general assent being given, they again broke into a run.

The more he thought of it, the more persuaded Frank was that no pursuit would be set on foot. Doubtless, the first step of the brigands would be to surround the church, and to place strong parties at both doors; they would therefore know that the church must have been deserted for at least half an hour before they obtained an entry, while possibly it might have been two or three hours before; so on finding the place empty their impulse would be to go to the wine-shops and celebrate their victory, rather than to start upon a pursuit which offered small prospects indeed of success. Every few minutes they halted for a moment to listen for the sound of pursuing feet, but everything was still and quiet; and so confident did they become as to their safety, that the last three or four miles down into Bronte were performed at a walk.