; but wearing, instead
of a showy uniform, a red-flannel shirt, gray trousers, and a slouched
felt hat. As this officer saw Giuseppe standing on the high bank, with
little Lucia behind him, peering timidly between his legs, he reined up
horse, and asked in a voice sweet and sad, yet grand and commanding, if
there was a spring of water near by. Giuseppe replied by offering to
show him the one he had found, and soon conducted him and his men to a
little green nook, where the water gushed up sweet and fresh. The lad
noticed that the noble-looking leader waited till all his soldiers had
quenched their thirst before he drank.

When he was ready to resume the march, he thanked the peasant-boy, and
kindly asked his name.

"Giuseppe Benedetti."

"Ah, _Giuseppe_! that is my name also," said the officer.

"Yes, General, Giuseppe _Garibaldi_," said the lad, smiling.

The General started, and asked how he knew him.

"My father served under you at the siege of Rome, and he had a picture
of you."

"Ah, your father, I remember him; where is he now?"

"He was shot at Milan, General."

The noble face of Garibaldi grew stern, but softened again as he looked
pityingly on the orphans. After giving them a little money--he was
himself too poor to give them much--he turned away and began consulting
with one of his officers in regard to their march. Giuseppe understood
that their plan was to go on to Mancini, where they expected to raise
some more men, and to camp for the night near the village. After a few
energetic words away he dashed, followed by his brave, devoted band.

When they were gone, Giuseppe and Lucia lay down on the soft turf, and
talked of all they had seen and heard, till, overcome by the heat and
lulled by the murmur of the brook, they fell asleep. They slept till
late in the afternoon, when they were awakened by the tramp of soldiers
again coming up the road.

"Here comes more of our brave Italians," exclaimed Lucia.

"No, these are Austrians," said Giuseppe, looking down upon them from
the olive-grove. "I know them by their hateful colors, black and
yellow. I 'm afraid they are after Garibaldi. If they overtake him
they will cut his little band to pieces, for here is a whole regiment
of the bloodthirsty tyrants."

Just then an Austrian officer caught sight of the lad, and leaped his
horse up the bank, followed by a file of soldiers. "Tell me, my boy,"
he said, with a terrible scowl, "have you seen