to the path below, none the worse
for the averted tragedy. Tony rejoined them somewhat short of breath, but
leading a humbled Fidilini. Constance, beyond a brief glance, said
nothing; but her father, to the poor man's intense embarrassment, shook
him warmly by the hand with the repeated assurance that his bravery
should not go unrewarded.

They completed their journey on foot; Tony following behind, quite
conscious that, if he had played the part of hero, he had done it with a
lamentable lack of grace.

CHAPTER VI

Tony was stretched on the parapet that bordered the stone-paved platform
of the fortress. Above him the crumbling tower rose many feet higher,
below him a marvelous view stretched invitingly; but Tony had eyes
neither for medieval architecture nor picturesque scenery. He lay with
his coat doubled under his head for a pillow, in a frowning contemplation
of the cracked stone pavement.

The four other men, after an hour or so of easy lounging under the pines
at the base of the tower, had organized a fresh expedition to the summit
a mile farther up. Mr. Wilder, since morning, had developed into an
enthusiastic mountain-climber--regret might come with the morrow, but as
yet ambition still burned high. The remainder of the party were less
energetic. The three ladies were resting on rugs spread under the pines;
Beppo was sleeping in the sun, his hat over his face, and the donkeys,
securely tethered (Tony had attended to that) were innocently nibbling
mountain herbs.

There was no obvious reason why, as he lighted a cigarette and stretched
himself on the parapet, Tony should not have been the most self-satisfied
guide in the world. He had not only completed the expedition in safety,
but had saved the heroine's life by the way; and even if the heroine did
not appear as thankful as she might, still, her father had shown due
gratitude, and, what was to the point, had promised a reward. That should
have been enough for any reasonable donkey-driver.

But it was distinctly not enough for Tony. He was in a fine temper as he
lay on the parapet and scowled at the pavement. Nothing was turning out
as he had planned. He had not counted on the officers or her
predilection for Italian. He had not counted on chasing donkeys in person
while she stood and looked on--Beppo was to have attended to that. He had
not counted on anything quite so absurd as his heroic capture of
Fidilini. Since she must let the donkey run aw