Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, 1899-09-17

81 4 say Of Val al orno As I've said
Of RomE don't known an individual
in the place; not even one SO humble
as a letter OF lodgings"
OF course. he speaks the truth. with
d double entendre. Corvino does not
credit him; but, as If suspecting. still
further questions.
Then why were you going thither?
Explain that, signore."
with pleasure. It's very simple and
easy. I'm an artist, as you know; and.
as I've told you. a landscape painter.
Having heard that around Val di Orno
there are some very fine bits of seem
cry, l was proceeding in search OF them.
and of course meant to make that town
my centre of operations. Even a poor
painter needs a roof to shelter him at
night. You wouldn't expect me to
sleep on the hillside?"
"Signor pittore," replies the bandit,
seemingly not over satisfied, or at all
events little pleased with the explana-
ton, .better men than you have at
time to do that-myself, for instance"
Then, continuing in muttered solilo-
guy: Satisfactory; and yet suspic-
ious." Again a~postrophising the artist:
well signore, if you'll give me our
solemn word-Hai what's that?"
The abrup exclamation is due to a
sound which has struck upon his ear,
causing him to turn round and stand
intently listening.
His followers have also caught the
sound; and several at the same time,
fiinging themselves along the earth, lie
with their cheeks pressing it, as if they
expected a repetition.
= wailing cry, in note prolonged, bear
ing resemblance to the bay Of a wolf;
and Henry Harding himself this time
hearing, believes it to be that. For in
the forenoon, coming up the valley OF
the Licenza, more than one were his
ears saluted with a similar cry; some
rustics he encountered, in answer to
his inquiry, telling him it was the wall
of the Appenine wolf.
Corvino and his brigands know bet
ter, for soon as hearing it the second
time, the chief exclaims: "Barone!"
adding: "You answer him, Cciaccia!"
The "Smasher'' (Sciaccia's English
synonym spreads his palms over his
face, and closing them around his lips,
gives utterance to a long, ingubriouS
cry intoned exactly as that which came
down the dell.
Almost instantly it is answered, I'M
deceiving the Englishman as to it being
a wolf, while proving it a signal; and
in less than ten minutes after, he who
has made and hen responded to it, APP
pears advancing down the ravine. Not
stealthily, for the reply to his wolf-like
watchword has appraised him that the
coast is clear.
A huge broad-shouldered fellow, with
a zeard from eyes to chin, more than
half his face-and a goodly portion of
his breast-concealed by the hirsute
appendage draping down like a cur
tain.
The capo, as the bandits call their
leader, springing from the platform,
steps out to meet him. and the two en-
gage in a sotto-yoce dialogue.
1t lasts but a few minutes, when big
Beard" turning away, glides back up
the gorge; while the chief again climbs
to the bench where his band in silence
await him.
He makes no communication to them,
but returning direct to the artist, says:
"Signor pittore, I'm sorry TO say that We
must postpone the anticipated pleasure
of seeing ourselves in a water-color
drawing. Circumstances have arisen
which make it incumbent upon me to
break up this our bivouac by the Fonte
Blandusiano, which with your company
promised to be so pleasant. However,
as you're going along with U.s.
I've not said | was going along with
you!" interrupts the young English
man, his British blood beginning to get
hot again. why should II"
You can take your choice about
that" says the chief, with pretended
acquiescence. Il meant to have shewn
you the hospitality of u mountain
home. Rough it may be, but not stint
ed, l can assure you. However, if you
decline it and prefer remaining behind,
/ may as well give you warning that
you'll have to sleep here-on this spot
"a sleep from which you'll never more
awake. | take it you understand me?"
The bandit accompanies the last
words with an expressive gesture-this
the placing Of his right hand upon the
butt of one of his pistols as if about
to pull it out of its holster.
There can be no misconception of his
meaning, and Henry Harding does not
misconceive it. 1t is a bitter pill for
the young Oxford athlete to swallow;
but the alternative Is not more sweet,
since this will be the having a bullet
through his brain. After a short