this he had the grace to look a
little shame-faced, knowing that I knew _why_ he had come fast) "and
we were tired. It was so beautiful here, and seemed so peaceful that
we never thought of danger, at this time of day. We had just begun to
pack up our things to move on again, when there was a rustling behind
us, the crackling of a branch under a foot, and that wretch sprang
out. I was frightened, but--I hate being a coward, and I just made up
my mind he _shouldn't_ have our things. Innocentina screamed, and I
struck at the man with the stick she uses to drive Fanny and Souris.
Then he got out his knife, and Innocentina screamed a good deal more,
and--I don't quite know what did happen after that, till you came."

"Well, I'm thankful I was near," I said. "And I must say that, though
it was foolhardy to make such a display of valuables, you were a
plucky little David to defend your belongings against such a Goliath.
I admire you for it."

The boy flushed with pleasure. "Oh, do you really think I was plucky?"
he asked. "Everything was so confused, I wasn't sure. I'd rather be
plucky than anything. Thank you for saying that, almost as much as for
saving our lives. And--and I'm dreadfully sorry I called you a--brute,
last night."

"It was only because I called you a brat. I fully deserved it, and
we'll cry quits, if you don't mind. Now, I'd better see how the
fainting lady is, and then I'll help you get your things together. How
are the knee and arm?"

"Nothing much wrong with them after all, I think," said the boy,
limping a little as he walked by my side back to the road, where I had
left Innocentina with Joseph.

We had taken but a few steps, when they both appeared, the young woman
white under her tan, her eyes big and frightened. She was herself
again, very thankful for so good an end to the adventure, and volubly
ashamed of the weakness to which she had given way. In the midst of
her explanations and enquiries, however, I noticed that she took time
now and then to throw a glance at my muleteer, not scornful and
defiant, as on the day before, but grateful and mildly feminine. In
conclave we agreed to say nothing in Aosta of the grim encounter, lest
our lives should be made miserable by _gendarmes_ and much red tape.
But Joseph, less diplomatic than I, had not scrupled to seize the
moment of Innocentina's recovery to pour into her ears the story of
the escaped criminal, and the excitement in which he had plunged th