les yet."

They crept along the dock on their hands and knees until they came to
one of the largest flat-bottomed boats in the fleet. Here Beppo paused,
and, after carefully examining to be sure it was the one he was looking
for, he helped Beppina aboard, and climbed in after her. There was a
pile of empty baskets and boxes at one end of the boat, and behind these
the children hid themselves to wait for dawn. For a long time they
crouched there, listening to the thumping of their own hearts, and the
lap-lap-lapping of the water, and at last, completely exhausted with
fatigue and fright, curled up on the floor of the boat and fell sound
asleep.

CHAPTER NINE.

THE ESCAPE.

Beppo awoke next morning in the early dawn, and, forgetting where he
was, stretched his cramped legs. In doing so he kicked over a basket,
which fell on Beppina. Beppina instantly sat up, and, blinking with
sleep, said quite loudly, "Where are we?" She might well ask, for
there, directly in front of her, pulling stoutly at a pair of oars, sat
a short, thick-set man with brown skin and rings in his ears. The level
rays of the sun, just rising over Venice, shone full upon his
weather-beaten face and astonished eyes, as he gazed at the apparition
before him. Just then Beppo's head appeared beside his sister's, and
the man, overcome with astonishment, "caught a crab" and splashed both
children with water before he burst into speech.

"Madonna mia!" he cried, "am I bewitched? How in the name of all the
saints in paradise did you get into this boat? You weren't in it when I
left the dock!"

"Oh, yes, we were," said Beppo. "We were behind the baskets."

"But what are you here for?" demanded the man.

"We want to go to Mestre," said Beppo.

The man regarded them suspiciously. "Do your folks know where you are?"
he asked.

"No," said Beppo. "That's why we are here. We want to get back to
them."

Beppina interrupted. "We were stolen away by gypsies," she said.

Then, still staring at them, the man asked, "Where are you from?"

"From Florence," Beppo answered.

The man threw back his head and laughed. "That's a likely story!" he
roared. "From Florence! Ha, Ha! Very good, per Bacco! You are indeed
clever liars! You are a pair of naughty little runaways, that's what
you are, and if I had time I'd take you straight back to Venice now! As
it is, I'll wait until I get my load, and then back you go, and I hope
you'll get a goo