News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1893-06-22
10 show him where the game is to be

10 show him where the game is to be
found"
Thereupon we made an appoint
Inent for the next Sunday, and the
fellow walked off without the least
compunction for his dirty trick.
When he was gone, the prefect i'm
pressed upon me the necessity for
keeping the matter very quiet, be
cause he intended that nobody else
should share the credit of the cap
ture. | assured him that | would
not breathe word, thanked him for
his kindness in asking me to assist
him, and we separated to go to our
work and dream of promotion.
The next morning l set out in full
shooting costume and took the coach
which does the journey from Ajaccio
to Bastia. For those who love ma
ture there is no better ride in the
world, but / was TOO busy with my
castles in the air to notice any of the
beauties of the landscape.
At Bonifacio we stopped for din
ner. When l got in the coach again,
just little elevated by the contents
of a good sized bottle, found that I
had a fresh travelling companion,
who had taken a seat next to me.
He was an official at Bastia, and /
had already met him, a man about
my own age and a native of Paris
like myself, decent sort of fellow.
You are probably aware that the
administration as represented by the
prefect, ETC., and the magistrature
never got on well together; in Cor
sica it is worse than elsewhere. The
seat of the administration is at Ajac-
clio, that of the magistrature at Bas-
tia. We two therefore belonged to
hostile parties But when you are a
long way from home and meet some
one from your native place you for
get all else and talk of the old coun-
try.
We were fast friends in less than
no time, and we were consoling each
other for being in exile, as he termed
it. The bottle of wine had loosened
my tongue, and l soon told him in
strict confidence that was looking
forward to going back to France to
take up some good post as a reward
for my share in the capture of Quas
tana, whom we hoped to arrest at
his cousins house one Sunday even
ing When my companion got off
the coach at Porto Vecchio, we felt
as though we had known each other
for years.
l arrived at Solenzara between 4
and 5 o'clock. The place is populat
ed in winter by workmen, fishermen
and customs officials, but in summer
every one who can shifts his quar-
ters up in the mountains ON account
of fever The village was therefore
nearly deserted when l reached it
that Sunday afternoon.
Ientered a small inn and had some
thing to eat while waiting for Mat
teo. Time went on, and the fellow
did not put in an appearance. The
innkeeper began to look at me suspi-
ciously and felt rather uncomfort
able. At last there came knock,
and Matteo entered.
He has come to my house" he
said, raising his hand to his hat.
"Will you follow me thereG"
We went outside. 1t was very
dark and windy. We stumbled along
a stony path for about three miles
a narrow path-full of small stones
and overgrown and luxuriant vege
tation, which prevented us from
going quickly.
That's my house." said Matteo,
pointing among the bushes to light
which was Pickering at short dis
tance from U.S.
A minute later we were confront
ed by big dog, who barked furious
ly at US One would have imagined
that he meant to stop us going far
ther along the road.
Here, Bruccio, Brucciom cried
he said: That's Quastana's dog. A
ferocious animal. He has no equal
for keeping watch" Turning to the
dog he again called out; That's all
right, old fellow. Do you take us
for policemen2"
The enormous animal quieted down
and came and shifted around our
legs. 1t was a splendid NewfOund
land dog, with thick, white, wool
ly coat, which had obtained for him
the name of Bruccio white cheese).
He ran in front of us to the house,
kind of stone hut, with a large hole
in the roof, which did duty for both
chimney and window.
In the center of the room stood
rough table, around which were sew
eral seats made of portions of trunks
of trees, hacked into shape with a
chopper. A torch stuck in a piece
of wood gave a Pickering light,
around which flew a swarm of moths
and other insects.
At the table sat a man who looked
like an Italian or Provencal fisher
man, with a shrewd, sunburned, clean
shaven face He was leaning over
pack of cards and was enveloped in
cloud of tobacco smoke.
Cousin Quastana, said Matteo as
we went in, this is gentleman who
is going shooting with me in the
morning. He will sleep here tonight,
so as to be close to the spot in good
time tomorrow.
When you have been an outlaw
and had to fly for your life, you look
with suspicion upon a stranger.
Quastana looked me straight in the
eyes for a second; then, apparently
satisfied, he saluted me and took no
further notice of me. Two minutes
later the cousins were absorbed in
game of scopa.
1t is astonishing what a mania for
card playing existed in Corsica at
that time, and it is probably the
same now The clubs and cafes were
watched by the police, for the young
men ruined themselves at a game
called bouillote. In the villages it
was the same; the peasants were
mad for game at cards, and when
they had no money they played for
their pipes, knives, sheep-anything.
l watched the two men with great
interest as they sat opposite each 9th
er, silently playing the game They
watched each others movements, the
cards either face downward upon the
table or carefully held so that the op
ponent might not catch a glimpse of