“Oh!”—the old smile returned,—“I get out that place any time I want.”
“And you’d join Garibaldi, I suppose?” The news had just come of Garibaldi in Sicily.
“Yes,” responded the Italian. There was a twinkle deep in his eyes as he added: “I know Garibaldi.”
“Indeed!”
“Yes. Sailed under him when he was ship-cap’n. He knows me.”
“And I dare say he’d remember you,” said Richling, with enthusiasm.
“He remember me,” said the quieter man. “Well,—must go. Good-e’nin’. Better tell yo’ wife wait a while.”
“I—don’t know. I’ll see. Ristofalo”—
“What?”
“I want to quit this business.”