,' he had written when he
first landed, words realised to the letter.

The Neapolitans were put in high spirits by Rosalino Pilo's death; the
discomfiture of Calatafimi was forgotten; they represented Garibaldi
as a mouse that was obligingly walking into a well-laid trap. In fact,
his position could not have been more critical, but he had recourse to
a stratagem which saved him. He succeeded in placing the enemy upon a
completely false scent. Abandoning the idea of reaching Palermo from
the east (Monreale), he decided to attempt the assault from the south
(Piana de' Greci and Misilmeri), but, all the while, he continued to
throw the Sicilian _Picciotti_ on the Monreale route, and gave them
orders to fire stray shots in every direction and to light innumerable
camp-fires. These troops frequently came in contact with the
Neapolitans in trifling skirmishes, and kept their attention so well
occupied that General Colonna, in command of the force sent in search
of the 'Filibuster,' did not doubt that the whole Garibaldian army was
concentrated over Monreale. Garibaldi rapidly moved his own column by
night to its new base of operations. The ground was steep and
difficult, and a storm raged all the night; fifteen years later he
declared that none of his marches in the virgin forests of America was
so arduous as this. While the Neapolitans remained in ignorance of
these changes, three English naval officers, guided by a sort of
sporting dog's instinct, happened to be driving through the village of
Misilmeri just after Garibaldi established his headquarters in that
neighbourhood. Of course it was by chance; still, Misilmeri is an odd
place to go for an afternoon drive, and the escapade ended in the
issue of a severe warning to Her Majesty's officers and marines to
keep in future 'within the bounds of the sentinels of the royal
troops.' Luckily record exists of the experiences of Lieutenant Wilmot
and his two companions at Misilmeri. Garibaldi, on hearing that three
English naval officers were in the village, sent to invite them to the
vineyard where he was taking his dinner. They found him standing in a
large enclosure in the midst of a group of followers who all, like
himself, wore the legendary red flannel shirt and grey trousers. Fra
Pantaleo's brown habit formed the only exception. Several Hungarian
officers were present, and by his father stood Menotti, then a stout
youth of nineteen, with his arm in a sling from the severe