The soldiers made many attempts to capture the outlaw, but nearly every attempt ended in the death of one or more of their comrades. As they could not get what they wanted in the ordinary way, they offered a large reward to anyone who would betray the bandit into their hands. It happened that Bellacoscia had a nephew of whom he was very fond, but this nephew had no love for his outlaw uncle, and he promised to betray the fugitive to the gendarmes. He set off with a party of nine soldiers, all in the highest spirits, because they felt sure of success at last. But the bandit knew of their coming, and from the shelter of a rock he fired upon his enemies. One man fell with a hole in his forehead, another was shot through the breast, and the rest took to their heels. After this, Bellacoscia hid himself in the densest part of the thicket, away amongst the deepest and the darkest of the mountain gorges. There he lived for nearly forty years, his food being often only the chestnuts that grew around him, and his only drink the water that trickled from the springs amongst the rocks. The officers of the law sent bands of soldiers from time to time to look for him, but they never could find him. As a rule, if they had any idea where he was, they kept out of the reach of his terrible gun. But, in revenge, they seized his property, sold his flocks, and put some of his relatives in prison. Still, he never gave in, and finally they determined to leave him alone, hoping that if no one interfered with him he would be so kind as not to shoot anybody else. All this time, despite the murders he had committed, the people of the country-side looked upon him as a brave and honourable man. They admired his skill with the rifle; they boasted of his courage and determination; and they praised the unfailing cunning that had helped him to escape all the traps that had been set for him.