"Father's angry!" they whispered. "Father is terrible when he is angry. You had better look out!"

Then Gigi knew that there was something else to fear that night. And his heart sank.

Was there to be no end of his troubles?

VI

THE SILVER PIECE

The team stopped in front of a stone cottage, from the window of which the light shone hospitably. They all jumped down from the cart, and under cover of the darkness Mother Margherita hustled Gigi with the other boys into the house, while Giuseppe, the father, cared for the oxen.

The mother busied herself in preparing supper, and the boys scattered about on various errands. But Gigi sat in a corner by the fire, too tired to move or speak. He had thrown off his long cloak, and the fire glanced brightly upon the green and gold costume of this quaint little figure, so out of place in the simple cottage. Presently Giuseppe entered with a heavy tread, and paused in amazement at what he saw on his hearthstone.

"h.e.l.lo!" he cried gruffly. "What's this?"

Mother Margherita came forward quickly. "It is a little tumbler," she said. "We saw him do his tricks at the market to-day. The Gypsies beat him, and he has run away. Let us give him at least supper and a shelter for the night, Giuseppe?" Her tone was beseeching.

"Hum!" grumbled Giuseppe doubtfully. "A runaway! A tumbler! A thief, I dare say, as well. A pretty fellow to bring into an honest man's house! His master will be after him, and then we shall all get into trouble for sheltering a runaway. Margherita, you were always a foolish woman! Is this all you have to show for market-day? Where is the money?"

"Here it is, Giuseppe," said the mother, handing him the bag of silver, which he thrust into his pocket. "Now let us have supper. You can count the silver afterward, and we will tell you about everything when that is over."

With a very bad grace the father watched the little stranger timidly take his place at the board between Paolo and Giovanni, Beppo crying because he could not have the tumbler next to him also.

There was much to talk about at that meal. They had to describe the holiday at market, which was a great event for the little family. Then there were the Tumblers; and the adventure of Gigi and the Hunchback,--that was the most exciting of all. And how near they came to losing the bag of silver which they had earned by selling their vegetables at the market! Giuseppe asked Gigi many questions, not unkindly, but with a bluntness that made the boy wince. And often Mother Margherita spoke up for him, with a kind answer. Gigi grew paler and paler, and his food lay almost untouched on his plate. He was too tired to eat.

At last, when supper was finished. Mother Margherita rose and lighted a candle. "Come with me, Gigi," she said, "and I will show you where you are to sleep this night."

Gigi followed her readily, glad to escape further questioning, and eager to rest his aching head. The little boys called after him a hearty good-night. But Giuseppe saw him go without a word, casting sidewise looks after the retreating figures, and grunting sourly.

There was no room for Gigi in the loft where the family slept. But out in the stable, beside the oxen, was a fresh pile of straw, a fine bed for the tired little wanderer. When Mother Margherita had bidden him a kind good-night and had closed the stable door behind her, Gigi threw himself upon the straw and was almost Instantly asleep. The oxen breathed gently beside him, chewing their cud. Everything was still and peaceful. And the night pa.s.sed.

"c.o.c.k-a-doodle-doo!" crowed the first c.o.c.k, speaking the same tongue that he learned at the beginning of the world, and that he always uses in every land, among every people.

It was but a few moments later when Gigi was awakened suddenly by a touch on his shoulder. The boy opened his eyes and stared about, bewildered. He did not know where he was. Who was this bending over him in the dim light? Not Tonio; not Cecco; not the Giant? Then he recognized Mother Margherita, stooping low with a pitiful expression on her face. She had a little bundle in her hand.

"Get up, Gigi," she whispered. "You must be off. My man is so angry!

He vows he will take you to the village to-day and give you up to your masters. He thinks you are a thief, Gigi. But I do not believe that you stole the silver piece."

"The silver piece!" cried Gigi, still more bewildered.

"Sh!" cautioned the woman, laying a hand on his lips. "Giuseppe must not know that I am here. He sleeps still. When we counted the money in the bag we found it short by one piece of silver, besides the one I gave you. That was my own to do with as I chose. But he believes that you stole another when you were holding the bag for me, hiding under my skirts."

"I did not take it!" cried Gigi, wide-awake now. "Oh, I would not steal from you,--not from you, the only person who was ever kind to me!"

"There, there! I told him so!" said the good woman soothingly. "I told him I must have lost it at the market when I was making change for somebody. But he will not believe. You must be off, Gigi, before he wakes, or you will have to go back to those cruel fellows. Giuseppe is so set! Like a mule he is when he is angry!"

Gigi sprang to his feet and looked wildly around. "Where shall I go?

What shall I do?" he asked.

Mother Margherita looked at the pale little lad and her eyes filled.

"Poor little fellow!" she sighed. "Suppose you were one of my boys, Beppo or Paolo! But we must lose no time"; and she dashed the tears from her eyes. "Here is your cloak to hide that gaudy dress. And here is a bundle of food,--all I could spare without the good man's knowledge. For it must seem that you have run away of your own accord.

I know that will make him sure that you are a thief. But I dare not let him guess that I have warned you and helped you to escape. You do not know Giuseppe's anger!--Farewell, dear little lad, and may the Saints have you in their keeping."

She led him to the door and pointed out the direction, in the gray dawn. She showed him where, to the north, by a great tree, a lane branched from the highroad. "Follow that," she said. "It will be safer in case you are pursued. And it comes at last to the great road into another country. There perhaps you will be safe and find friends who can help you more than I have done. Though none can wish you better." And she hugged him close. "Farewell, Gigi!"

VII

THE WANDERER

With a lump in his throat, Gigi left the only roof that had ever shown him kindness. In the gray dawn he crept out to the highroad. There was no time to be lost, for already the east was growing pink, and soon the sun would be making long shadows on the open road. Giuseppe would surely spy him and bring him back.

As soon as he was outside the farm enclosure, Gigi began to run. But he found that he was stiff and sore from his fall of the day before, and from the many beatings which he had received of late. Every bone in his body ached, and especially his head, which throbbed so as to make him faint. Still he ran on. For more than anything else he feared being captured and sent back to the Gypsies.

At last Gigi came to the great tree where branched the cross-road to the north. Here he turned aside. Then he drew a deep breath, feeling safer. He ceased running, and presently, being hungry and tired, he sat down upon a stone and opened the bundle which Mother Margherita had given him. He found bread and cheese, and began to eat greedily, until he remembered that he knew not where he should find dinner and supper.

He looked at the remnant of bread and cheese longingly, but at last wrapped it up and put it back into the little pouch which, as was the custom in those times, he wore at his belt.

The lane upon which he was now traveling was shadier than the highroad, and as he went on the trees grew even taller and bigger. Apparently the way was leading through the outskirts of a forest. The lane was more crooked, also. Gigi could not see far either before or behind him, because of the constant turnings.

Suddenly, he stopped short and listened. There was a sound; yes, there certainly was a sound on the road behind him,--the noise of galloping hoofs.

Gigi was seized with a panic. Without stopping to think, he plunged from the road into the forest, and began to run wildly through the underbrush. He did not care in which direction he went,--anywhere, as far as possible from the pursuing hoof-beats.

On, on he plunged, sometimes sprawling over roots of trees, sometimes bruising himself against low branches or stumbling upon stones which seemed to rise up on purpose to delay him; torn by briars and tripped by clutching vines. But always he ran on and on, this way and that, wherever there seemed an opening in the forest, which was continually growing denser and more wild.

How long he wandered he did not know. The sun was high in the heavens when at last, wholly exhausted, Gigi fell upon a bank of moss. His weary bones ached. He was too tired to move, but lay there motionless, and presently he fell into a troubled sleep. When he awoke with a start, it was growing dark, and he was very hungry. He felt for the pouch into which he had put his bits of bread and cheese, but it was gone! He must have lost it when pushing through the bushes.

What was he to do? He knew he must find his way back to the highroad, where he could perhaps beg a supper at some cottage. But how was he to know which way to go? He looked up and around him in despair. He was in the midst of the wildest kind of forest. The trees grew close together, and there was no path, no sign that men had ever pa.s.sed this way.

Moreover, it was growing darker every minute. Already the shadows behind the trees were black and terrible. Gigi suddenly remembered that there were fierce animals in the forests. In those days, all over Europe bears and wolves and many kinds of wild beasts, large and small, wandered wherever there were trees and hiding-places; in fact, one might meet them anywhere except in cities and towns. And sometimes in winter, when they were very hungry, bold wolves prowled even in the market-places.

Gigi shuddered. He dared not think of sleep, alone in this dreadful place. He must try to find the road. Once more he crawled to his feet and began to stagger through the darkness, groping with his hands to ward off the branches which scratched his face and the thorns which tore his garments into rags.

Now there began to be strange sounds in the forest. The birds had ceased to sing, save for a chirp now and then as Gigi's pa.s.sing wakened some tired songster. But there were other noises which Gigi did not understand, and which set his heart to knocking fearfully; the cracking of twigs far off and near at hand; little scurries in the underbrush as he approached; now and then the crash of something bounding through the bushes in the distance; sometimes a squeak or a chatter which sounded terrible to the little boy's unaccustomed ears. And finally, far off in the forest, came a long, low howl that set his teeth to chattering.

Was it a wolf? The thought was more than Gigi could bear. He fainted, and fell forward into a bed of soft green moss.

VIII

THE RESCUE