d he was afraid that he also
would be obliged to stay at home, and he could ill afford to do this.

"Why can't I take his place?" I asked, when he returned home after
hunting in vain for a boy.

"I was afraid the car would be too heavy for you, my boy," he said, "but
if you'd be willing to try, you'd help me a mighty lot. It is hard to
find a boy for a few days only."

"And while you are down in the mine I'll go off with Capi and earn the
rest of the money for the cow," cried Mattia.

The three months that we had lived together in the open air had
completely changed Mattia. He was no longer the poor, pale boy whom I
had found leaning up against the church; much less was he the monster
whom I had seen for the first time in Garofoli's attic, looking after
the soup, and from time to time clasping his hands over his poor aching
head. Mattia never had a headache now. He was never unhappy, neither was
he thin or sad. The beautiful sun and the fresh air had given him
health and spirits. On our tramps he was always laughing and in a good
humor, seeing the best side of everything, amused at anything, happy at
nothing. How lonely I would have been without him!

We were so utterly different in character, perhaps that was why we got
on so well together. He had a sweet, sunny disposition, a little
careless, and with a delightful way of overcoming difficulties. We might
well have quarreled when I was teaching him to read and giving his
lessons in music, for I had not the patience of a schoolmaster. I was
often unjust to him, but never once did he show signs of anger.

It was understood that while I was down in the mine Mattia and Capi were
to go off into the suburbs and give "musical and dramatic performances"
and thereby increase our fortune. Capi, to whom I explained this
arrangement, appeared to understand and accordingly barked approval.

The next day, following close in Uncle Gaspard's footsteps, I went down
into the deep, dark mine. He bade me be very cautious, but there was no
need for his warning. It is not without a certain fear and anxiety that
one leaves the light of day to enter into the bowels of the earth. When
far down the gallery I instinctively looked back, but the daylight at
the end of the long black tube looked like a white globe,--like the moon
in a dark, starless sky. Soon the big, black pit yawned before us. Down
below I could see the swaying lamps of other miners as they descended
the ladder. We reached