“What are we waiting for?”
“They are attaching the cars of guns,” replied another.
“There will be lots of guns needed in this war!” exclaimed a third.
“It is going to be the greatest war of our country,” a fourth added complacently.
Some one began to hum a tune. The others joined in the chorus. The train started. I felt Fiam, who had taken his head from under the button, climb along the waistcoat and crawl into his little box, which was in an inside pocket. The box had been used so much that it was all broken on one side, so that Fiam had learned to come and go through the hole by himself.
He didn’t appear until late at night, when every one was asleep, swaying with the motion of the train, and the car only dimly lighted by a covered lamp. I was awakened by his little voice. He had climbed up on my shoulder near my ear and was calling to me. In the dazed condition of a person half awake I thought it was the singing of a mosquito and put up my hand to catch him.
“It is I,” he said. “I am Fiammiferino.”
“Oh! good-morning. Aren’t you asleep?”
“No, I never sleep. I am not a man.”
“Then if you will excuse me, allow me to sleep. I am a man.”