too. Take
me into your animal kingdom, and teach me to make them all my friends.
I could do such tricks with them,--far better than tumbling. I should
grow rich!"

The old man shook his head. "That cannot be," he said. "I cannot
teach men to grow rich. Nor would I see my animals made ridiculous for
money. I came here to be a hermit. I vowed to have nothing more to do
with human folk, only with the animals whom they persecute. But I
never thought that a child would seek my roof."

Pie looked at Gigi doubtfully. The boy returned the look, and the
brown spot on his eyelid trembled piteously. The Hermit blinked.

"Yes, you are a poor little animal, too," he said at last. "You are
ignorant and innocent as they. I cannot turn you away. Perhaps I can
teach you better things than tricks. Perhaps I can make you a disciple
and a Christian. If you are teachable, I can make you wise with the
knowledge of herbs and healing. If I send back to the world which I
have left one man useful, tender, strong, and good, perhaps he may be
able to do more than I have done to stay the march of evil."

Gigi did not understand the words at all, but the tone was kind. He
pushed the bandage from his head, looked up at the Hermit, and smiled
his own strange smile. "I think you will not beat me," he said. The
brown spot on his eyelid gave him the wink of mischief.

"Beat you!" The old man's face broke into an answering smile, and he
rocked to and fro with pleasure in Gigi's little joke. Then he bent
forward suddenly, and stared into the boy's face with a keen look.

"The wicked eye of him!" he said, talking to himself. "How like it is!
Strange, strange! About nine years old, he is. Nine years ago--" He
paused, gazing at Gigi, and murmuring under his breath. "What are you
wearing about your neck?" he asked suddenly.

Gigi put his hand to a tiny silver chain which just peeped above his
green doublet, and drew out a flat piece of silver of strange shape,
and with one side carved deeply with a notched Cross.

"Where did you get this?" asked the Hermit, strangely excited.

"I do not know," said Gigi, wondering. "I have worn it always. Not
even Cecco dared take it from me. I have heard him say so. But I do
not know why!"

"The lost one!" cried the Hermit, embracing Gigi, with tears in his
eyes. Then, crossing himself, he added piously, "Dear little lad! We
are in the Lord's hands. Gigi, you shall stay with me until