“Let me alone,” replied Mateo, “I am his father.”
Giuseppa embraced her son and entered her cabin, weeping. She fell on her knees before an image of the Virgin and prayed fervently. Meanwhile Falcone walked some two hundred yards along the path, and did not stop until they reached a narrow ravine into which he descended. He sounded the earth with the butt of his rifle, and found it soft and easy to dig. It seemed to him a suitable spot for his design.
“Fortunato, go and stand by that big stone.”
The child did what he ordered, then knelt.
“Say your prayers.”
“Father, father, don’t kill me!”
“Say your prayers!” Mateo repeated, in a terrible voice.
The child, stammering and sobbing, repeated the Pater and the Credo. The father, in a loud voice, said Amen! at the end of each prayer.
“Are those all the prayers you know?”
“I know the Ave Maria, too, father, and the litany my aunt taught me.”