He had been absent several hours, and little Fortunato was lying placidly in the sun, watching the blue mountains, and thinking that, on the following Sunday, he was going to the town to dine with his uncle the _caporal_,[40] when he was suddenly interrupted in his meditations by the report of a firearm. He rose and turned towards the plain from which the sound came. Other reports followed, at unequal intervals, coming constantly nearer. At last, on a path leading from the plain to Mateo’s house, appeared a man wearing a pointed cap such as the mountaineers wear, with a long beard, clad in rags, and hardly able to drag himself along, using his rifle as a cane. He had received a bullet in the thigh. That man was a bandit,[41] who, having started under cover of the darkness to go to the town for powder, had fallen into an ambush of Corsican voltigeurs.[42] After a stout defence he had succeeding in beating a retreat, hotly pursued, and firing from one rock after another. But he was only a little in advance of the soldiers, and his wound made it impossible to reach the _maquis_ before he was overtaken. He went up to Fortunato and said: “You are Mateo Falcone’s son?” “Yes.” “I am Gianetto Sanpiero. I am pursued by the yellow collars.[43] Hide me, for I can’t go any farther.” “What will my father say if I hide you without his leave?” “He will say that you did well.” “Who knows?” “Hide me quick; they’re coming.” “Wait till my father comes home.” “Wait? damnation! They will be here in five minutes. Come, hide me, or I’ll kill you.” Fortunato replied with the utmost coolness: “Your gun’s empty, and there ain’t any cartridges left in your _carchera_.”[44] “I have my stiletto.” “But can you run as fast I can?” He gave a leap and placed himself out of danger. “You are not Mateo Falcone’s son! Will you let me be arrested in front of your house?” The child seemed to be moved. “What will you give me if I hide you?” he said, drawing nearer. The bandit felt in a leather pocket that hung from his belt and took out a five-franc piece, which he had kept in reserve, no doubt, to buy powder. Fortunato smiled at sight of the silver; he seized it and said to Gianetto: “Don’t be afraid.” He instantly dug a great hole in a haystack that stood near the house. Gianetto crept into it, and the child covered him so as to let him have a little air to breathe, but so that it was impossible to suspect that the hay concealed a man. He conceived also an ingeniously crafty idea, worthy of a savage. He took a cat and her kittens and placed them on the haystack, to make it appear that it had not been disturbed recently. Then, noticing marks of blood on the path near the house, he carefully covered them with dirt, and, when that was done, lay down again in the sun with the most perfect tranquillity.