I was right, now!"

"Well, well!" said the old man. "Guidice will lose nothing by waiting."

"Evvviva Ors' Anton'!" And the reports of a dozen guns capped the
plaudit.

Very much put out, Orso sat in the midst of the group of mounted men,
all talking at once, and crowding round to shake hands with him. For
some time he could not make himself heard. At last, with the air he put
on when he used to reprimand the men of his company, or send one of them
to the guard-room, he said:

"I thank you, friends, for the affection you show for me, and for that
which you felt for my father! But I do not want advice from any of you,
and you must not offer it. I know my own duty."

"He's right! He's right!" cried the herdsmen. "You know you may reckon
on us!"

"Yes, I do reckon on you. But at this moment I need no help, and no
personal danger threatens me. Now face round at once, and be off with
you to your goats. I know my way to Pietranera, and I want no guides."

"Fear nothing, Ors' Anton'," said the old man. "They would never dare
to show their noses to-day. The mouse runs back to its hole when the
tom-cat comes out!"

"Tom-cat yourself, old gray-beard!" said Orso. "What's your name?"

"What! don't you remember me, Ors' Anton'? I who have so often taken
you up behind me on that biting mule of mine! You don't remember Polo
Griffo? I'm an honest fellow, though, and with the della Rebbia, body
and soul. Say but the word, and when that big gun of yours speaks, this
old musket of mine, as old as its master, shall not be dumb. Be sure of
that, Ors' Anton'!"

"Well, well! But be off with you now, in the devil's name, and let us go
on our way!"

At last the herdsmen departed, trotting rapidly off toward the village,
but they stopped every here and there, at all the highest spots on the
road, as though they were looking out for some hidden ambuscade, always
keeping near enough to Orso and his sister to be able to come to their
assistance if necessary. And old Polo Griffo said to his comrades:

"I understand him! I understand him! He'll not say what he means to do,
but he'll do it! He's the born image of his father. Ah! you may say you
have no spite against any one, my boy! But you've made your vow to Saint
Nega.[*] Bravo! I wouldn't give a fig for the mayor's hide--there won't
be the makings of a wineskin in it before the month is out!"

[*] This saint is not mentioned in the calendar. To make a
vow to Saint Nega m