He had been gone several hours and little Fortunato was quietly lying out in the sunshine, looking at the blue mountains, and thinking that on the following Sunday he would be going to town to have dinner at his uncle's, the corporal,[1] when his meditations were suddenly interrupted by the firing of a gun. He got up and turned towards that side of the plain from which the sound had proceeded. Other shots followed, fired at irregular intervals, and each time they came nearer and nearer until he saw a man on the path which led from the plain to Mateo's house. He wore a pointed cap like a mountaineer, he was bearded, and clothed in rags, and he dragged himself along with difficulty, leaning on his gun. He had just received a gunshot in the thigh. This man was a _bandit_ (Corsican for one who is proscribed) who, having set out at night to get some powder from the town, had fallen on the way into an ambush of Corsican soldiers.[2] After a vigorous defence he had succeeded in escaping, but they gave chase hotly, firing at him from rock to rock. He was only a little in advance of the soldiers, and his wound made it out of the question for him to reach the _mâquis_ before being overtaken. He came up to Fortunato and said-- "Are you the son of Mateo Falcone?" "Yes." "I am Gianetto Sanpiero. I am pursued by the yellow-collars.[3] Hide me, for I cannot go any further." "But what will my father say if I hide you without his permission?" "He will say that you did right." "How do you know?" "Hide me quickly; they are coming." "Wait till my father returns." "Good Lord! how can I wait? They will be here in five minutes. Come, hide me, or I will kill you." Fortunato replied with the utmost coolness-- "Your gun is unloaded, and there are no more cartridges in your _carchera_."[4] "I have my stiletto." "But could you run as fast as I can?" With a bound he put himself out of reach. "You are no son of Mateo Falcone! Will you let me be taken in front of his house?" The child seemed moved. "What will you give me if I hide you?" he said, drawing nearer. The bandit felt in the leather pocket that hung from his side and took out a five-franc piece, which he had put aside, no doubt, for powder. Fortunato smiled at the sight of the piece of silver, and, seizing hold of it, he said to Gianetto-- "Don't be afraid."