"There is some one living a score yards onward, or I am much mistaken. Wait here while I reconnoitre, and if you need me, fire; I will be with you at the first echo of the shot."
He loaded the pistol that had fallen on the grass by her, and put it back into her hand, then thrust the boughs aside, and made his way to where, at some slight distance, the hut of some woodland dweller stood; a faint low flicker of smoke, curling among the thickness of the leaves, had told him rightly there was some human habitation, and though it was but a poor cabin, rudely built of loose stones and woven branches, it was more welcome to him than a palace would have been. He knew the Italian people as well as he knew the Border peasantry at home, and knew that they were gentle, kindly, and generous in the main. The hut stood in a very wilderness of beauty, wild vine, and the sweet fig beloved of Horace, gigantic pines, and the wood-strawberry that nestled in the grass, in their profuso and vivid contrast, making a paradise around it, while in its rear the high slope of pine-covered hills rose dark and massive, with falling waters tumbling down their steep incline into a broad still pool beneath, that was never stirred unless by the plunge of some diving water-bird. A young female child, with a rich Guido
