"The villain fought like a lion," continued the Adjutant, a little mortified. "He killed one of my soldiers, and not content with that, broke Caporal Chardon's arm; but that matters little, he is only a Frenchman. Then, too, he was so well hidden that the devil couldn't have found him. Without my little cousin, Fortunato, I should never have discovered him." "Fortunato!" cried Mateo. "Fortunato!" repeated Giuseppa. "Yes, Gianetto was hidden under the hay-pile yonder, but my little cousin showed me the trick. I shall tell his uncle, the Caporal, that he may send him a fine present for his trouble. Both his name and yours will be in the report that I shall send to the Attorney-general." "Malediction!" said Mateo in a low voice. They had rejoined the detachment. Gianetto was already lying on the litter ready to set out. When he saw Mateo and Gamba in company he smiled a strange smile, then, turning his head towards the door of the house, he spat on the sill, saying: "House of a traitor." Only a man determined to die would dare pronounce the word traitor to Falcone. A good blow with the stiletto, which there would be no need of repeating, would have immediately paid the insult. However, Mateo made no other movement than to place his hand on his forehead like a man who is dazed. Fortunato had gone into the house when his father arrived, but now he reappeared with a bowl of milk which he handed with downcast eyes to Gianetto. "Get away from me!" cried the outlaw, in a loud voice. Then, turning to one of the soldiers, he said: "Comrade, give me a drink." The soldier placed his gourd in his hands, and the prisoner drank the water handed to him by a man with whom he had just exchanged bullets. He then asked them to tie his hands across his breast instead of behind his back. "I like," said he, "to lie at my ease." They hastened to satisfy him; then the Adjutant gave the signal to start, said adieu to Mateo, who did not respond, and descended with rapid steps towards the plain. Nearly ten minutes elapsed before Mateo spoke. The child looked with restless eyes, now at his mother, now at his father, who was leaning on his gun and gazing at him with an expression of concentrated rage. "You begin well," said Mateo at last with a calm voice, but frightful to one who knew the man. "Oh, father!" cried the boy, bursting into tears, and making a forward movement as if to throw himself on his knees. But Mateo cried, "Away from me!" The little fellow stopped and sobbed, immovable, a few feet from his father. Giuseppa drew near. She had just discovered the watch-chain, the end of which was hanging out of Fortunato's jacket. "Who gave you that watch?" demanded she in a severe tone. "My cousin, the Adjutant." Falcone seized the watch and smashed it in a thousand pieces against a rock. "Wife," said he, "is this my child?" Giuseppa's cheeks turned a brick-red. "What are you saying, Mateo? Do you know to whom you speak?"