ss me before you go," said Giacomo.

Phil bent over and kissed the feverish lips of the little boy, and then
hurried out of the room. He never saw Giacomo again; and this, though he
knew it not, was his last farewell to his little comrade.

So Phil commenced his wanderings. He was free in one way--he could go
where he pleased. The padrone did not care where he picked up his money,
as long as he brought home a satisfactory amount. Phil turned to go up
town, though he had no definite destination in view. He missed Giacomo,
who lately had wandered about in his company, and felt lonely without
him.

"Poor Giacomo!" he thought. "I hope he will be well soon."

"Avast there, boy!" someone called. "Just come to anchor, and give us a
tune."

Phil looked up and saw two sailors bearing down upon him (to use a
nautical phrase) with arms locked, and evidently with more liquor aboard
than they could carry steadily.

"Give us a tune, boy, and we'll pay you," said the second.

Phil had met such customers before, and knew what would please them. He
began playing some lively dancing tunes, with so much effect that the
sailors essayed to dance on the sidewalk, much to the amusement of a
group of boys who collected around them.

"Go it, bluejacket! Go it, boots!" exclaimed the boys, designating them
by certain prominent articles of dress.

The applause appeared to stimulate them to further efforts, and they
danced and jumped high in air, to the hilarious delight of their
juvenile spectators. After a time such a crowd collected that the
attention of a passing policeman was attracted.

"What's all this disturbance?" he demanded, in tones of authority.

"We're stretching our legs a little, shipmate," said the first sailor.

"Then you'd better stretch them somewhere else than in the street."

"I thought this was a free country," hiccoughed the second.

"You'll find it isn't if I get hold of you," said the officer.

"Want to fight?" demanded the second sailor, belligerently.

"Boy, stop playing," said the policeman. "I don't want to arrest these
men unless I am obliged to do it."

Phil stopped playing, and this put a stop to the dance. Finding there
was no more to be seen, the crowd also dispersed. With arms again
interlocked, the sailors were about to resume their walk, forgetting to
"pay the piper." But Phil was not at all bashful about presenting his
claims. He took off his cap, and going up to the jolly pair said, "I
wan