soul between covetousness and respect for hospitality. His breast
swelled with emotion; he seemed about to suffocate. Meanwhile the watch
was slowly swaying and turning, sometimes brushing against his cheek.
Finally, his right hand was gradually stretched toward it; the ends of his
fingers touched it; then its whole weight was in his hand, the Adjutant
still keeping hold of the chain. The face was light blue; the cases newly
burnished. In the sunlight it seemed to be all on fire. The temptation was
too great. Fortunato raised his left hand and pointed over his shoulder
with his thumb at the hay against which he was reclining. The Adjutant
understood him at once. He dropped the end of the chain and Fortunato felt
himself the sole possessor of the watch. He sprang up with the agility of
a deer and stood ten feet from the pile, which the soldiers began at once
to overturn.

There was a movement in the hay, and a bloody man with a poignard in his
hand appeared. He tried to rise to his feet, but his stiffened leg would
not permit it and he fell. The Adjutant at once grappled with him and took
away his stiletto. He was immediately secured, notwithstanding his
resistance.

Gianetto, lying on the earth and bound like a fagot, turned his head
towards Fortunato, who had approached.

"Son of--!" said he, with more contempt than anger.

The child threw him the silver piece which he had received, feeling that
he no longer deserved it; but the outlaw paid no attention to the
movement, and with great coolness said to the Adjutant:

"My dear Gamba, I cannot walk; you will be obliged to carry me to the
city."

"Just now you could run faster than a buck," answered the cruel captor;
"but be at rest. I am so pleased to have you that I would carry you a
league on my back without fatigue. Besides, comrade, we are going to make
a litter for you with your cloak and some branches, and at the Crespoli
farm we shall find horses."

"Good," said the prisoner, "You will also put a little straw on your
litter that I may be more comfortable."

While some of the soldiers were occupied in making a kind of stretcher out
of some chestnut boughs and the rest were dressing Gianetto's wound, Mateo
Falcone and his wife suddenly appeared at a turn in the path that led to
the maquis. The woman was staggering under the weight of an enormous sack
of chestnuts, while her husband was sauntering along, carrying one gun in
his hands, while another was slung