till held him by the hand and by
the arm.

"Let him go, brother, he isn't worth it. What does he understand,
Max, dear brother, what does he understand? These fellows from the
south, they are half children, half animal. They don't know what
they are doing. Has he hurt you, dear friend? Has he hurt you? It
was a dummy knife, but it was a heavy blow--the dog of an Italian.
Let us see."

So gradually Max was brought to stand still. From under the edge of
his waistcoat, on the shoulder, the blood was already staining the
shirt.

"Are you cut, brother, brother?" said Louis. "Let us see."

Max now moved his arm with pain. They took off his waistcoat and
pushed back his shirt. A nasty blackening wound, with the skin
broken.

"If the bone isn't broken!" said Louis anxiously. "If the bone isn't
broken! Lift thy arm, frere--lift. It hurts you--so--. No--no--it is
not broken--no--the bone is not broken."

"There is no bone broken, I know," said Max.

"The animal. He hasn't done _that_, at least."

"Where do you imagine he's gone?" asked Mr. May.

The foreigners shrugged their shoulders, and paid no heed. There was
no more rehearsal.

"We had best go home and speak to Madame," said Mr. May, who was
very frightened for his evening performance.

They locked up the Endeavour. Alvina was thinking of Ciccio. He was
gone in his shirt sleeves. She had taken his jacket and hat from the
dressing-room at the back, and carried them under her rain-coat,
which she had on her arm.

Madame was in a state of perturbation. She had heard some one come
in at the back, and go upstairs, and go out again. Mrs. Rollings had
told her it was the Italian, who had come in in his shirt-sleeves
and gone out in his black coat and black hat, taking his bicycle,
without saying a word. Poor Madame! She was struggling into her
shoes, she had her hat on, when the others arrived.

"What is it?" she cried.

She heard a hurried explanation from Louis.

"Ah, the animal, the animal, he wasn't worth all my pains!" cried poor
Madame, sitting with one shoe off and one shoe on. "Why, Max, why didst
thou not remain man enough to control that insulting mountain temper of
thine. Have I not said, and said, and said that in the Natcha-Kee-Tawara
there was but one nation, the Red Indian, and but one tribe, the tribe
of Kishwe? And now thou hast called him a dirty Italian, or a dog of an
Italian, and he has behaved like an animal. Too much, too much of an
anim