"Cospetto!" exclaimed Santugo, impatiently; "and to save the life of this paltry voltigeur, who will perhaps be shot afterwards, you may sacrifice all our lives and the success of the expedition?" "I understand the scruples of our friends," replied Casteluccio; "and will undertake that in ten minutes Signor Dundas will have the voltigeur beside him, safe and sound: unless, indeed, he makes a great resistance; in which case I cannot assure you of my being very patient." In three columns we moved to the attack. Santugo with his corps marched on one flank of the post; the cavaliere, with his Free Company, on the other; with my hundred men, I chose the central point of assault by the gorge; and the report of the first volley was to be the signal for the onset. Luckily for us, a thick white vapour, rolling from the sea, enveloped all Bagnara, veiling our movements completely: the enemy had not the remotest suspicion of our vicinity. My soldiers were in light marching order, with sixty rounds of ammunition; we went down the hill double quick, and entered the gorge softly in sections of threes. Casteluccio accompanied us to seize the sentinel; but I had little reliance to place on the successful fulfilment of his promise. "The sentinel once captured, we will rush upon them like a herd of wolves; and the massacre of Bagnara shall live in Calabrian story, like the Sicilian vespers of old!" said the cavaliere, in a low, hoarse tone. His eyes sparkled; he drew his poniard, and stole from my side towards the unsuspecting voltigeur, whom we discerned about fifty yards from where my party halted. Under the shade of a foliaged cliff he stood motionless, with his musket ordered, and his eyes bent on the ground. His voice alone broke the intense stillness of his post, and had he been less occupied with his own thoughts, he must undoubtedly have seen us; but the mind of the poor Swiss conscript was perhaps far away, where his mother’s vine-clad chalet looked down on the vales and cataracts of his native canton: sadly and slowly he hummed the pastoral "_Ranz des vetches_," and saw not the foe who, crouching like a lynx, with one hand on his lip and the other on his weapon, stole softly towards him. I waited the issue with anxiety. "Silenzio!" exclaimed the strong cavalier, in a fierce whisper, as he grasped the sentry by the throat. The poor Swiss boy (for he was but a boy after all) understood not the word; but the sudden stifling grasp, and the sight of the glittering bastia poniard, almost deprived him of his faculties: taken completely by surprise, he dropped his musket, and was dragged among us a prisoner.