e signs of agitation. Figures in
swift motion flitted to and fro amidst the shade, and others darted
past the smouldering fires. In the midst of this another shot sounded,
and another, and still another. At the third there was a wild yell of
rage and pain, followed by the shrill cry of a woman's voice. The fact
was evident that some one of the brigands had fallen, and the women
were lamenting.

The confusion grew greater. Loud cries arose; calls of encouragement,
of entreaty, of command, and of defiance. Over by the old house there
was the uproar of rushing men, and in the midst of it a loud, stern
voice of command. The voices and the rushing footsteps moved from the
house to the woods. Then all was still for a time.

It was but for a short time, however. Then came shot after shot in
rapid succession. The flashes could be seen among the trees. All
around them there seemed to be a struggle going on. There was some
unseen assailant striking terrific blows from the impenetrable shadow
of the woods. The brigands were firing back, but they fired only into
thick darkness. Shrieks and yells of pain arose from time to time, the
direction of which showed that the brigands were suffering. Among the
assailants there was neither voice nor cry. But, in spite of their
losses and the disadvantage under which they labored, the brigands
fought well, and resisted stubbornly. From time to time a loud, stern
voice arose, whose commands resounded far and wide, and sustained the
courage of the men and directed their movements.

The men who guarded the priest and Ethel were growing more and more
excited every moment, and were impatient at their enforced inaction.

"They must be soldiers," said one.

"Of course," said another.

"They fight well."

"Ay; better than the last time."

"How did they learn to fight so well under cover?"

"They've improved. The last time we met them we shot them like sheep,
and drove them back in five minutes."

"They've got a leader who understands fighting in the woods. He keeps
them under cover."

"Who is he?"

"Diavolo! who knows? They get new captains every day."

"Was there not a famous American Indian--"

"True. I heard of him. An Indian warrior from the American forests.
Guiseppe saw him when he was at Rome."

"Bah!--you all saw him."

"Where?"

"On the road."

"We didn't."

"You did. He was the Zouave who fled to the woods first."

"He?"

"Yes."

"Diavolo!"

These words were