name of "_Garibaldi_!"

But the Americans made no response. They marched on quietly to their
yacht, and pushed off from the wharf. A loud, long cheer followed
them from the crowd, which stood there watching their departure; and,
as the yacht moved away, cheer after cheer arose, which gradually
died away in the distance.

They passed that night on the sea instead of at the hotel at Salerno.
But they did not have much sleep. Their wonderful adventure formed
the theme of discussion all night long. And at last the only
conclusion which they could come to was this, that the red-shirted
strangers had been mistaken for Garibaldini; that Obed Chute had been
accepted as Garibaldi himself; and, finally, that the subjects of the
king of Naples, and his soldiers also, were in a fearful state of
disaffection.

Not long after, when Garibaldi himself passed through this very town,
the result confirmed the conjectures of these Americans.

CHAPTER XLII.

ANOTHER REVELATION.

Time passed on, and Zillah once more regained something like her old
spring and elasticity; yet the sadness of her situation was no way
relaxed. In addition to the griefs of the past, there now arose the
problem of the future. What was she to do? Was she to go on thus
forever with these kind friends? or was she to leave them? The
subject was a painful and a perplexing one, and always brought before
her the utter loneliness of her position with the most distressing
distinctness. Generally she fought against such feelings, and tried
to dismiss such thoughts, but it was difficult to drive them from her
mind.

At length it happened that all her funds were exhausted, and she felt
the need of a fresh supply. So she conferred with Obed Chute, and
told him the name of her London bankers, after which he drew out a
check for her for a hundred pounds, which she signed. The draft was
then forwarded.

A fortnight passed away. It was during this interval that Obed had
his famous Salerno expedition, which he narrated to Zillah on his
return, to her immense delight. Never in his life had Obed taken such
pleasure in telling a story as on this occasion. Zillah's eager
interest, her animated face, her sparkling eyes, all encouraged him
to hope that there was yet some spirit left in her in spite of her
sorrows; and at length, at the narration of the reception of the
Neapolitan's order to surrender, Zillah burst into a fit of laughter
that was childish in its aband