curled waves and through the snowy surf as brightly as a monacco on the wing.
Nicolò knew every inch of the coast, and landed at length in a small lonely creek, hidden in profuse vegetation, where there was just depth enough to steer the vessel in, and let the beach be reached by wading.
"Yonder lies Antina, Signor," said the fisherman; "a league to the left by that road where the cypresses are. You see?"
Erceldoune took the man*s brown hand in his and wrung it hard.
"I see! I cannot thank you now, Nicolò. Later on, if I live"
The Capriote fixed his large black eyes tenderly and wistfully on him.
"Eccellenza, you go into some danger. Let me be with you."
Erceldoune shook his head.
"Why not, Signor?" pleaded Nicoló, entreatingly. "When I was in peril you came to me, down into the churning seas, at risk of your own life. The boy can take the boat back. Let me come!"
Erceldoune put him gently back.
"Not now. Colò, though I could wish for no
