im that she could not understand. The sentry
disappeared, to return in a few minutes with another man. From the
respectful salutes that he received, Lucia decided he must be a very
high officer. More talk followed which she could not understand, and
then her guard turned to her.

"Follow me," he directed, and led her out of the passage across a
stretch of open ground, and over to a shed. Another soldier opened the
door, and before Lucia quite got her breath, she heard the key turn in
a lock and the thud, thud of the men's boots as they marched away.

CHAPTER VI

GARIBALDI PERFORMS

The shed had been hastily put together, and served as a place for picks
and shovels. There were so many of them, in fact, that Lucia at first
had difficulty in finding a place to stand, but by rearranging them she
cleared a portion of the floor and sat down to think.

The shed was by no means airtight, for the boards had been nailed up so
far apart that not only did the air and light enter between the cracks,
but it was also possible for Lucia to see everything that was going on
about her.

At first it looked as if the soldiers were just hurrying about
aimlessly, but by watching them closely, especially the guard that had
caught her, she saw that they were preparing to leave.

A bugle sounded from a dugout at the end of the passage, and all the
soldiers in sight fell into marching order and waited at attention.
Then the officer who had ordered Lucia shut up in the tool-house, gave
them some orders that she could not understand.

One soldier came over to the shed and unlocked the door. He beckoned
Lucia to step outside, and as the men filed past the door he handed
each one a pick and shovel. When they had all received them, and Lucia
expected to return, the Captain spoke to her. His Italian was so very
bad she pretended not to understand.

"What is your name?" was his first question.

Lucia shook her head.

"Your name?" he persisted. "Marie, Louise, Josephine?"

"No, Senor," Lucia replied bewildered.

"Well then, what is it?"

"I don't understand."

"Your name?"

"No, Senor."

"Your name? Have you no sense--stupid!" The Captain's patience was
fast giving way.

Now to call an Italian stupid is the worst possible insult, and Lucia's
cheeks flushed hotly. She was very angry, and she determined not to
reply now at any cost. She shook her head therefore, and a very
stubborn and unpromising light came into