The men turned their glances uneasily up the road. Some object was seen approaching. They immediately placed their burden on the ground, and were about to make off down the hill at full speed, when Chiarina exclaimed that it was her father.
Old Marco, though he did not look over well pleased at seeing the strangers, after exchanging a few words with them, at once consented to take charge of their wounded comrade. Calling ’Renzo to his aid, he lifted the man from the ground to bear him towards the house.
“Remember, if harm befalls him!—” exclaimed one of the men, lifting up his finger, as he turned to hurry down the hill.
“If harm befalls him it will be no fault of mine,” answered Marco.
The stranger was carried in and placed on Marco’s own bed, and his injuries carefully looked to; while his comrades, having caught his horse, galloped off with it along the road at the same headlong speed as that at which they were before going.
After some time the stranger opened his eyes and looked about him with a very troubled expression, till they fell on Marco. He then seemed more satisfied.
“What has happened?” he asked.
Marco told him.
“I can trust you, old friend?” he whispered.