et it. Do you hear?"

"But how?" the boatman wrung his hands desperately. "I do not know how
to swim. I will die. Santa Lucia, Saint of sailormen, spare me," he
screamed as the man lifted his heavy cane to strike him.

"Don't you dare strike that man!" Lucia exclaimed, "he did pull his
boat up on shore, but I pushed it off. I heard you this afternoon, and
I knew you wanted to go away to that big ship out there, and perhaps
sail to Austria. I know what you are, you two-faced man. You speak,
you laugh, you scold in Italian, and all the time your black heart is
Austrian."

"You shall not go away from here. I, Lucia Rudini, tell you, you shall
not!"

"Santa Lucia! A miracle!" The boatman trembled with fear, but the man
was not so superstitious. He caught Lucia's arm and shook her roughly.

"You did it, you little fiend, well, you shall get what you deserve for
your meddling." He motioned to the frightened boatman. "Get me a
rope, I'll make a gag of my handkerchief; hurry man, if you are found
you will be shot."

"But I dare not, I dare not, she is the spirit of Santa Lucia. She
came when I called. The Saints have mercy!"

With a growl of disgust the man turned from him and caught both of
Lucia's wrists in his firm clasp. Then he lifted his cane.

"She must not tell until we are well away," he said, and brought the
cane down heavily. It was his intention to stun Lucia, but he had
miscalculated when he expected her to stand still and receive the blow.

She dodged to the right and began kicking and struggling. The boatman
wrung his hands and screamed for help.

It was not many minutes before the guard, attracted by the noise, came
running towards them. The man's back was towards him, but Lucia saw
him and stopped struggling.

The man raised his cane again but this time he stopped, because the
muzzle of a gun was pressing him between the shoulder blades.

Lucia turned to the guard and explained hurriedly. In the starlight
she could see that he had a long scar across his face, and she felt
very secure.

"I know your nephew, Roderigo," she ended, "he helped me blow up the
bridge in Cellino."

The soldier nodded.

"I know about that, Senorina," he said respectfully, "and the rest of
your fine deeds. You were born for the work it seems. Move an inch
and off comes your head," he turned furiously on the man who had tried
to edge away. Then he continued in the soft, courteous tones he had
bee