"Yes, but this beast has hard feet. Don't you hear what a noise he
makes sometimes with his feet? A wolf's feet are like a dog's. I'm
afraid it's something even worse than a wolf."

"Something worse?"

"Yes."

"What can be worse?"

"Why, a wild boar. Italy is the greatest country in the world for
wild boars."

After this there followed a long period of silence and despondency.

Suddenly Clive grasped the upper part of the ladder, and began to
pull at it with all his might.

"What are you trying to do?" asked David.

"Why, we might draw up the ladder, and put it out of one of the
windows, you know, and get out that way--mightn't we?"

"I don't know," said David. "We might try."

Upon this both boys seized the ladder, and tried to pull it from
its place. But their efforts were entirely in vain. The ladder was
clumsily made out of heavy timbers, and their puny efforts did not
avail to move it one single inch from its place. So they soon
desisted, and turned away in despair. Clive then went to one of
the windows, and looked down. David followed him. They looked out
for some time in silence.

"Couldn't we let ourselves drop somehow?" asked Clive.

David shook his head.

"It's nearly twenty feet from the window ledge," said he, "and I'm
afraid one of us might break some of our bones."

"O, it's not so very far," said Clive. "Yes, but if we were to
drop, that wild boar would hear us, and rush out in a moment."

At this terrible suggestion, Clive turned away, and regarded David
with his old look of horror.

"It's no use trying," said David; "that horrible wild boar waked
up when we entered his den. He saw us going up, and has been watching
ever since for us to come down. They are the most ferocious, most
pitiless, and most cruel of all wild beasts. Why; if we had the
ladder down from the window, and could get to the ground, he'd
pounce upon us before we could get even as far as the path."

Clive left the window, and sat down in despair, leaning against
the wall, while David stood staring blankly out into vacancy. Their
position was now not merely an embarrassing one. It seemed dangerous
in the extreme. From this place they saw no sign of any human
habitation. They could not see the convent. Albano was hidden by
the hill already spoken of; nor had they any idea how far away it
might be. This path over which they had gone had not appeared like
one which was much used; and how long it might be before any