hile the printed receipt was being filled out. Then the
excitement had begun.

"You have a passenger," said one, and Mommo stared at him, not
understanding.

"You have a dead man on behind!" yelled a small boy, standing at safe
distance.

Mommo began to swear, but one of the inspectors stopped him.

"Get down," said the man. "The carabineers are coming."

Mommo finished his swearing internally, but with increased fervour. The
small boy was joined by others, and they began to jeer in chorus, and
perform war-dances.

"There is a tax on dead men!" they screamed. "You must pay!"

"May you all be butchered!" shouted Mommo, in a voice of thunder. "May
your insides be fried!"

"Brute beast, without education!" hooted the biggest boy,
contemptuously.

"I'll give you the education, and the instruction too," retorted the
carter, making at them with his long whip.

They scattered in all directions, like a flock of cawing jackdaws that
fly a little way in tremendous haste, and then settle again at a
distance and caw louder than before.

"Animal!" they yelled. "Animal! Animal and beast!"

By this time a crowd had collected round the cart, and two carabineers
had come up to see what was the matter, quiet, sensible men in
extraordinary cocked hats and well-fitting swallow-tailed uniforms of
the fashion of 1810. The carabineers are quite the finest corps in the
Italian service, and there are a good many valid reasons why their
antiquated dress should not be changed. Their presence means law and
order without unnecessary violence.

Mommo was surly, but respectful enough. Yes, it was his cart, and he was
a regular carter on the Frascati road. Yes, this was undoubtedly a sick
man, who had climbed upon the cart while Mommo was asleep. Of course he
had slept on the road, all carters did, and he had no dog, else no one
would have dared to take liberties with his cart. No, he had never seen
the sick man. The carabineers might send him to penal servitude for
life, tear out his tongue, cut off his ears and nose, load him with
chains, and otherwise annoy him, but he had never seen the sick man. If
he had seen him, he would have pulled him off, and kicked him all the
way to the hospital, where he ought to be. What right had such brigands
as sick men to tamper with the carts of honest people? If the fellow had
legs to jump upon the cart, he had legs to walk. Had Mommo ever done
anything wrong in his life, that this should be done