ds the
footpath. She had no idea of where she was going, but fear lead her
on. Beppi, her adored little brother, and Garibaldi were lost, and she
was going to find them.

At the end of the road she paused and looked ahead of her. The sky was
dark with rain-clouds and thunder rumbled in the west, an echo of the
guns. Lucia took the path that she had taken early that morning, and
as she climbed up the steep ascent she called and shouted. Her own
voice came back to her from the flat rocks ahead, but there was no
sound of Beppi.

Instead of going on to the little plateau where she left her pails, she
branched off to the left. It was hard climbing, and after repeated
shouts of "Beppi," she sat down and tried to think.

Big drops of rain were beginning to fall, and with the sun out of sight
the fall air was damp and cold. She pulled her thin shawl around her
shoulders and shivered.

"If Garibaldi ran away she came up here; she always does," she argued
to herself. "She loves to climb, and she must have come this way in
the hope of finding grass. Up above, and a little over to the left,
there is a sort of sheltered spot. Perhaps--" she did not finish the
thought, but jumped up and started to climb.

She hunted until she discovered a way to find the spot. It was not
difficult, for she knew every foot of the mountains from long
association. But Beppi was not to be seen, nor was Garibaldi. Lucia
stopped, discouraged. Fear and helplessness were getting the better of
her, and she would most likely have given way to the tears she so
despised had her eye not caught sight of a tuft of fur on the ground.
She seized upon it eagerly. It was without doubt part of Garibaldi's
shaggy coat.

With a cry of joy she started off up the tiny trail that led higher up
into the rocks.

"Beppi, Beppi!" she called, and stopped. Still no answer, but she was
not discouraged for the guns were making so much noise that she
realized her voice could not carry any great distance.

The rain was coming down in earnest now, and it was hard to keep from
losing her footing on the slippery rocks. She stumbled on regardless
of the danger, hoping against hope that she had chosen the right path,
and that each step was bringing her nearer to Beppi. Between calling
and climbing, she was tired, and she stopped for a moment to catch her
breath.

A sound, faint but unmistakable, reached her.

"Naa, Naa!"

Garibaldi was complaining about th