“It is quite impossible now—don’t attempt it,” she answered; “perhaps there may be an opportunity later.”
“Was that Croppo who got away?” I asked.
“Yes. He could not get his cowardly men to stand on that hill.”
“What a bother those men are behind, dearest! Let me pretend to scratch my nose with this hand that is tied to yours, which I can thus bring to my lips.”
I accomplished this manoeuvre rather neatly, but parties now came straggling in from other directions, and I was obliged to give up whispering and become circumspect. They all seemed rather astonished at our group, and the captain laughed heartily as he rode up and called out, “Who have you got tied to you there, caro mio?”
“Croppo’s wife. I had her tied to me for fear she should escape; besides, she is not bad-looking.”
“What a prize!” he exclaimed. “We have made a tolerable haul this time—twenty prisoners in all, among them the priest of the band. Our colonel has just arrived, so I am in luck; he will be delighted. See the prisoners are being brought up to him now; but you had better remount and present yours in a less singular fashion.”
When we reached the colonel we found him examining the priest. His breviary contained various interesting notes written on some of the fly-leaves.
For instance:
“Administered extreme unction to A——, shot by Croppo’s order; my share ten scudi.