He dealt Uncle John a heavy blow with the back of his hand.

In his early days Uncle John had been noted for his fiery temper. It was said of him that when his temper was aroused, he became a maniac.

So it was now.

Taking no thought of the man who held the revolver almost in his face, Uncle John, his cheek red from the imprint of the Austrian's hand, uttered a cry of rage, and leaped forward. His move was so unexpected that the man with the revolver did not fire, and when at last he had again brought his revolver to bear, he feared to press the trigger lest he might hit his friend as well as foe.

Uncle John, in a moment, was the center of a struggling, shouting ma.s.s.

His fists flew about like flails and he kicked out with his feet whenever occasion presented itself. One, two, three heavy blows he landed upon Robard's face, and the Austrian suddenly collapsed in a heap. Still fighting mad, Uncle John whirled upon the other three, who now closed with him.

A right-handed jolt caught one of them flush on the jaw and he toppled over backwards without so much as a groan. The other brought a fist heavily to Uncle John's nose, bringing blood, but before he could repeat the blow, Uncle John had placed him hors de combat with a terrific left-handed punch to the abdomen.

Then the third man drew back and presented his revolver, but Uncle John sprang forward with a cry and before the man's finger could press the trigger, Uncle John had seized him about the middle. Raising him high in the air, he swung him to one side, and the man's head struck the wall with a crunch even as the revolver exploded.

Uncle John dropped the limp body and surveyed the field. His anger had departed and he was again a cool and self-possessed American gentleman of middle age.

"There's that temper of mine again," he said reprovingly to himself.

"Why, I might have killed somebody. After all these years I should have it under control. I guess I'll be moving before some one makes me real mad."

He stooped and picked up his hat, which had fallen on the floor, took one last look at his fallen foes, and opened the door and pa.s.sed out.

Down the street he saw a solitary figure sitting upon the steps in front of a large stone house, and he walked in the other direction.

"I've had trouble enough for one night," he told himself. "Guess I will give that fellow a wide berth."

And had he gone toward the seated figure he would have avoided more trouble for all concerned, and Hal and Chester would probably never have seen active service with the Italian army. For the figure that caused Uncle John to turn his footsteps in the opposite direction was Chester, awaiting the return of Hal.

"Wonder why those young scalawags didn't come back to help me?" mused Uncle John, as he walked along toward the hotel. "I'll tell them what I think of them for running away and leaving me to do all the fighting."

Uncle John glanced at his watch.

"Great Scott!" he exclaimed. "Twelve o'clock! Why, it doesn't seem fifteen minutes since we went in that house. Guess Hal and Chester have returned to the hotel by this time. What shall I tell the women folks?

They'll wonder what a man of my age is prowling about the streets of Rome for at this hour of the night."

He entered his hotel and made his way toward the elevator. It descended, and as he would have entered, he b.u.mped squarely into Mrs. Paine and Mrs. Crawford.

"John," cried the latter, "where is Chester?"

"Where is Hal?" demanded Mrs. Paine anxiously.

"Why, they--aren't they--they'll be here in a few minutes," stuttered Uncle John.

"Where are they?" demanded the two anxious mothers in a single voice.

"Now hold on here," said Uncle John, regaining his composure with an effort. "I'll explain. Hal and Chester are all right. They'll be here in a few minutes."

"And what on earth is the matter with you, John?" asked Mrs. Crawford in surprise.

"What's the matter with me?"

"Yes. Your collar is half off, your clothes are dirty and there is blood on your shoe. What is the matter?"

"Well, nothing much," replied Uncle John in great confusion, "you see, I had--I had a--"

"And were Hal and Chester with you?" asked Mrs. Paine.

"Yes, that is no. I mean--" stuttered Uncle John.

"Come now, John, no fibbing," said Mrs. Crawford. "You were in trouble, and Hal and Chester were with you. Where are they now?"

"Well, to tell the truth, I don't know where they are," said Uncle John.

"I supposed they would be here by this time."

In a few words he explained what had transpired.

"They left the house without being hurt?" asked Mrs. Paine.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Then where can they be now?" demanded Mrs. Crawford.

"I'm sure I don't know, unless they have stopped for a talk with the general, and that's about the size of it."

"I guess you are right," replied Mrs. Paine with relief. "But why didn't you tell us all this before you went out to-night?"

"Yes, why didn't you?" demanded Mrs. Crawford.

"Well," said Uncle John slowly, "we didn't want to worry you."

"You are getting too old for such foolishness," declared Mrs. Crawford.

"I thought so myself," replied Uncle John, "but I know better now. If you had seen the licking I handed those four Austrians you would think I was a boy again."

"I'll think you have reached your second childhood if you ever let me hear of anything like it again," declared his sister.

Uncle John was growing tired of this conversation. He wanted to be let alone.

"I'll go out and see if I can find the boys," he said.

"Please do," said Mrs. Paine.

"And see that you keep out of mischief yourself," adjured Mrs. Crawford.

Uncle John shook his head as he walked away.

"These women are funny things," he said. "I wonder what can have happened to those boys? They've probably gone back to look for me. Guess I had better head that way myself. I may come in handy, you never can tell."

He patted the revolver, which still rested securely in his pocket.

"I may have use for this next time," he muttered, as he quickened his steps toward the Austrian legation.