ked down into the boy's eager eyes. "Our poor country,"
said he, "has been thrown to the ground, and different people have been
beating her and trying to keep her down, but chiefly the big,
white-coated Austrians, Giuseppe boy. Every once in a while some of our
men band together and try to do something to help Italy get to her feet
again. That man who asked for money was such a man."

"But why did he look so sad and white, father, and why did he say the
refugees?"

"Our men are very few, Giuseppe, and have poor arms, and the enemy's
army is very large and their men are veteran soldiers, so that we always
lose. Then those who fought, like that poor fellow, have to fly and seek
refuge out of Italy until the storm blows past."

Giuseppe clasped his hands behind his back, and his face grew very
thoughtful. "So that man has been to war," he said, "and for us, and the
money you gave him is going to help them the next time?"

"Exactly," said the father, with a smile at the boy's serious manner.
Giuseppe was not usually very thoughtful.

"How long do you think the refugees will have to go on fighting, father,
before the enemy are finally driven out of our land?"

"Oh, they'll have to fight for years and years, and perhaps they'll
never win, for the enemy is much stronger than we Italians."

"Then," said Giuseppe, "I'm glad, for that will give Cesare and
Raffaelle and me a chance to help them fight. I'm going to be a refugee
myself some day. Will you teach me, father, how to use a sword?"

"All in good time," said the man, smiling. "You've got your hands full
learning the points of the compass just now."

For some reason Giuseppe could not get the tall, black-haired man out of
his mind, and the next day, at recess, he told his two friends of his
meeting with him and what he had learned about him.

"Couldn't we find him or another like him, this afternoon?" suggested
Cesare, very much interested.

"We'll hunt," agreed Giuseppe. "A refugee could tell us much better
stories than those old sailors can."

After school the three boys looked through the main streets of Nice, but
saw no one asking for alms for the cause of Italy. They went down to the
harbor, but there were no such men there. Finally in a little square
they came upon the very man Giuseppe had seen the day before. He was
sitting on the grass under a tree, and seemed to be asleep, for his head
was sunk on his folded arms. They crossed over to him quietly. Alt