ast suffered much already."

"Ay, we have suffered somewhat," replied Francisco in an off-hand tone,
not feeling much inclined to be communicative just then.

In a few minutes, however, Giovanni had ingratiated himself with the
Sicilians to such an extent that they had related all their sad history
to him, and already began to feel as if he were an old friend, before
they had traversed the half-mile that lay between their nightly prison
and the harbour.

Arrived at their place of toil--the artificial neck connecting the
little light-house island with the mainland,--Mariano was ordered to
convey large masses of stone for the supply of a gang of slaves who were
building a new face to the breakwater, while his father was harnessed,
with another gang, to the cart that conveyed the stones to their
destination along a temporary tramway.

The severity of the labour consisted chiefly in the intense heat under
which it was performed, and in the unremitting nature of it. It must
not be imagined, however, that there was not a single touch of humanity
in the breasts of the cruel slave-drivers. Hard task-masters though
they undoubtedly were, some of them were wont to turn aside and look
another way when any of the poor slaves sat down for a few minutes,
overcome with exhaustion.

There was little opportunity allowed, however, for intercourse among the
unfortunates. One or two who, judging from their faces, showed
sympathetic leanings towards each other, were immediately observed and
separated. This had the effect of hardening some, while it drove others
to despair.

One of those whose spirit seemed to vacillate between despair and
ferocity was the young man already referred to as being an inhabitant of
Francisco's part of the Bagnio. He was a Portuguese, named Castello.
In carrying the stones to and fro, he and Mariano had to pass each other
regularly every three or four minutes. The latter observed, after a
time, that Castello glanced at him with peculiar intelligence. At first
he was puzzled, but on next passing him he determined to give him a
similar look. He did so. Next time that Castello passed he said, in a
low tone, without looking up, and without in the least checking his
pace--

"Better to die than this!"

Mariano was taken by surprise, and at first made no reply, for he
recalled the man's advice of the previous night, but, on passing the
Portuguese again, he said, in the same low tone--

"Yes, much be