Morris tribune., 1904-04-23

AndreanO
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''Halt! Close up there!'

ing from rock to rock and seeming
to die away in hollow murmurs W
the precipitous and bleak sides 0:
the hills. The little band of Italian
soldiery closed up rapidly as thei,
grizzled old captain spoke and faceo
him silently with their carbineE
grounded and the look of dull and
apathetic discipline on their faces
that is characteristic Of their class.
E'My men," said the weather beat
en- and gray headed leader, regard,
ing them sharply from under his
shaggy eyebrows, ''the wolf is driv'
en- to his last lair. All or nearly all
Of his people have been killed of
during the weeks that we have been
following them over these dreary
hills. He-the bandit, the robber,
the Andreano of the hills-cannot
last out longer now. His hour is
come, if we are but watchful. Up
and up he has been driven, often
nearly falling into our hands, yet as
often escaping. Now behind him
rises the sheer straight line Of the
hills, on either side are two good
companies Of our men; we stand in
the front. The great Andreano,
terror of our hills"-the captain
laughed softly in his throat els al
ready as one dead. You know your
orders. He is to be shot down like
dog by the first man who sights him.
You understand"
A low, deep murmur went up from
the men, and then a single voice
spoke the speaker, who stood in
the front rank, giving the. salute
rapidly.
'But, my captain, what Of the
child?"
The old man turned on him fierce
y.
"The child! What child?"
The soldier, a little, 1.-THE, swar-
Thy man, with cleaning white teeth
shining under his brown mustache,
,aluted again.
"The child, my captain, he
brought from Massafno, below
here in the valley-the child Of the
woman who had loved him."
The captain, interested in spite of
knitted his brows and babe
he soldier proceed.
''What of the child? You may
'peak."
Thus encouraged, the little man
With the cleaning teeth saluted |
,nce more and with many a gesture
# fingers, shoulders and eyebrows
apidly told his story:
""Twas but year ago, my cap
ain. The woman-1 know not her
lame-had loved him in the days
vhen he was lad tilling. the fields
Lown there. She was alone. Her
friends were dead or had left her.
There was no one but the priest who
ould help her, and the priest was
90 poor. What would you?" with
n appealing glance at his fellows
nd rapid shrug of his shoulders.
She had been married, this woman
7ho had loved the Andreano, and
lad child, a girl child, but her
nan lay in the sandy graveyard over
gainst the village church yonder,
cad, year before, of the fever. So
he sent to Andreano." !
He paused for a moment, spat
uickly upon the ground and went ,
n again: !;
"She sent a message to him up
ere in the hills, my captain, and he
anne to her. He came down in the
light and saw her, came armed to
he teeth and daring all or any to
ouch him. And in the morning,
,hen the sun was coming up over
he hills, he had gone, and the child
nth him, and the woman who had
oved him lay dead, with smile on
er face. That is all, my captain"
The man saluted again and drew
ack.
"And the child-where is it
ow ?" asked the captain slowly.
''The child is with him, my cap
ain"
"What matters it % muttered the
aptain. 'SKill the child too: Kill
# the whole. brood. Come; wa
'aste time. Forward"
Yet. for all that, as the captain
larched at the head of his men with
nitted brows he was very silent and
cry thoughtful and might almost
ave been thought to have been in
oubt. Once or twice he shook his
cad slowly and muttered some
hing beneath his breath. He, too,
ad heard the strange story at an
arlier time-had heard how this
srrible and sin stained man, with
rice upon his head, had gone down