The Senator then ran back to seek for b.u.t.tons.

The gentleman flung a quant.i.ty of dry brush on the fire, which at once blazed up and threw a bright light over the scene. Meanwhile the pa.s.sengers were looking anxiously around as though they dreaded a new attack. Some of them had been wounded inside the coach and were groaning and cursing.

The Senator searched for a long time in vain. At last at the bottom of a heap of fallen brigands, whom the Senator had knocked over, he found b.u.t.tons. His face and clothes were covered with blood, his forehead was blackened as though by an explosion, his arm was broken and hung loosely as the Senator lifted him up. For a moment he thought that it was all over with him.

He carried him toward the fire. The appearance of the young man was terrible. He beckoned to one of the ladies. The lady approached.

One look at the young man and the next instant, with a heart-rending moan, she flung herself on her knees by his side.

"The Spaniard!" said the Senator, recognizing her for the first time.

"Ah! he'll be taken care of then."

There was a brook near by, and he hurried there for water. There was nothing to carry it in, so he took his beaver hat and filled it. Returning, he dashed it vigorously in b.u.t.tons's face. A faint sigh, a gasp, and the young man feebly opened his eyes. Intense pain forced a groan from him. In the hasty glance that he threw around he saw the face of Ida Francia as she bent over him bathing his brow, her face pale as death, her hand trembling, and her eyes filled with tears. The sight seemed to alleviate his pain. A faint smile crossed his lips. He half raised himself toward her.

"I've found you at last," he said, and that was all.

At this abrupt address a burning flush pa.s.sed over the face and neck of the young girl. She bent down her head. Her tears flowed faster than ever.

"Don't speak," she said; "you are in too much pain."

She was right, for the next moment b.u.t.tons fell back exhausted.

The Senator drew a flask from his pocket and motioned to the young girl to give some to b.u.t.tons; and then, thinking that the attention of the Senorita would be far better than his, he hurried away to d.i.c.k.

So well had he been treated by the Don (whom the reader has of course already recognized) that he was now sitting up, leaning against the driver of the diligence, who was making amends for his cowardice during the fight by kind attention to d.i.c.k after it was over.

"My dear boy, I saw you had no bones broken," said the Senator, "and knew you were all right; so I devoted my first attention to b.u.t.tons. How do you feel?"

"Better," said d.i.c.k, pressing the honest hand which the Senator held out. "Better; but how is b.u.t.tons?"

"Recovering. But he is terribly bruised, and his arm is broken."

"His arm broken! Poor b.u.t.tons, what'll he do?"

"Well, my boy, I'll try what _I_ can do. I've set an arm before now.

In our region a necessary part of a good education was settin'

bones."

d.i.c.k was wounded in several places. Leaving the Don to attend to him the Senator took his knife and hurriedly made some splints. Then getting his valise, he tore up two or three of his shirts. Armed with these he returned to b.u.t.tons. The Senorita saw the preparations, and, weeping bitterly, she retired.

"Your arm is broken, my poor lad," said the Senator. "Will you let me fix it for you? I can do it."

"Can you? Oh, then, I am all right! I was afraid I would have to wait till I got to Bologna."

"It would be a pretty bad arm by the time you got there, I guess,"

said the Senator. "But come--no time must be lost."

His simple preparations were soon made. b.u.t.tons saw that he knew what he was about. A few moments of excessive pain, which forced ill-suppressed moans from the sufferer, and the work was done.

After taking a sip from the flask both b.u.t.tons and d.i.c.k felt very much stronger. On questioning the driver they found that Bologna was not more than twenty miles away. The pa.s.sengers were busily engaged in removing the barricade. It was decided that an immediate departure was absolutely necessary. At the suggestion of d.i.c.k, the driver, postillions, and pa.s.sengers armed themselves with guns of the fallen brigands.

The severest wound which d.i.c.k had was on his head, which had been almost laid open by a terrific blow from the gun of the robber chief.

He had also wounds on different parts of his body. b.u.t.tons had more.

These the Senator bound up with such skill that he declared himself ready to resume his journey. Upon this the Don insisted on taking him into his own carriage. b.u.t.tons did not refuse.

At length they all started, the diligence ahead, the Don following.

On the way the Don told b.u.t.tons how he had fared on the road. He had left Florence in a hired carriage the day before the diligence had left. He had heard nothing of the dangers of the road, and suspected nothing. Shortly after entering the mountain district they had been stopped and robbed of all their money. Still he kept on, thinking that there was no further danger. To his horror they were stopped again at the bridge, where the brigands, vexed at not getting any money, took all their baggage and let them go. They went on fearfully, every moment dreading some new misadventure. At length their worst fears were realized. At the place where the fight had occurred they were stopped and dragged from their carriage. The brigands were savage at not getting any plunder, and swore they would hold them prisoners till they procured a ransom, which they fixed at three thousand piastres. This was about four in the afternoon. They overturned the coach, kindled a fire, and waited for the diligence. They knew the rest.

b.u.t.tons, seated next to Ida Francia, forgot his sufferings.

Meanwhile d.i.c.k and the Senator resumed their old seats on the banquette. After a while the Senator relapsed into a fit of musing, and d.i.c.k fell asleep.

Morning dawned and found them on the plain once more, only a few miles from Bologna. Far ahead they saw the lofty Leaning Tower that forms so conspicuous an object in the fine old city. d.i.c.k awaked, and on looking at the Senator was shocked to see him very pale, with an expression of pain. He hurriedly asked the cause.

"Why the fact is, after the excitement of fightin' and slaughterin'

and seein' to you chaps was over I found that I was covered with wounds. One of my fingers is broken. I have three bullet wounds in my left arm, one in my right, a stab of a dirk in my right thigh, and a terrible bruise on my left knee. I think that some fellow must have pa.s.sed a dagger through my left foot, for there is a cut in the leather, my shoe is full of blood and it hurts dreadful. It's my opinion that the Dodge Club will be laid up in Bologny for a fortnight.--Hallo!"

The Senator had heard a cry behind, and looked out. Something startled him. d.i.c.k looked also.

The Don's carriage was in confusion. The two Senoritas were standing up in the carriage wringing their hands. The Don was supporting b.u.t.tons in his arms. He had fainted a second time.

CHAPTER XLVIII.

SUFFERING AND SENTIMENT AT BOLOGNA.--MOONSHINE.--BEST BALM FOR WOUNDS.

They all put up at the same hotel. b.u.t.tons was carried in senseless, and it was long before he revived. The Senator and d.i.c.k were quite exhausted--stiff with fatigue, stiff with wounds.

There was one thing, however, which made their present situation more endurable. The war in Lombardy made farther progress impossible. They could not be permitted to pa.s.s the borders into Venetia. Even if they had been perfectly well they would have been compelled to wait there for a time.

The city was in a ferment. The delight which the citizens felt at their new-found freedom was mingled with a dash of anxiety about the result of the war. For, in spite of Solferino, it was probable that the tide of victory would be hurled back from the Quadrilateral.

Still they kept up their spirits; and the joy of their hearts found vent in songs, music, processions. Roman candles, _Te Deums_, sky-rockets, volleys of cannon, ma.s.ses, public meetings, patriotic songs, speeches, tri-colors, and Italian versions of "The Ma.r.s.eillaise."

In a short time the Senator was almost as well as ever. Not so d.i.c.k.

After struggling heroically for the first day against his pain he succ.u.mbed, and on the morning of the second was unable to leave his bed.

The Senator would not leave him. The kind attention which he had once before shown in Rome was now repeated. He spent nearly all his time in d.i.c.k's room, talking to him when he was awake, and looking at him when asleep. d.i.c.k was touched to the heart.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Used Up.]

The Senator thought that, without exception, Bologna was the best Italian city that he had seen. It had a solid look. The people were not such everlasting fools as the Neapolitans, the Romans, and the Florentines, who thought that the highest end of life was to make pictures and listen to music. They devoted their energies to an article of nourishment which was calculated to benefit the world. He alluded to the famous _Bologna Sausage_, and he put it to d.i.c.k seriously, whether the manufacture of a sausage which was so eminently adapted to sustain life was not a far n.o.bler thing than the production of useless pictures for the pampered tastes of a bloated aristocracy.

Meanwhile b.u.t.tons fared differently. If he had been more afflicted he was now more blessed. The Don seemed to think that the sufferings of b.u.t.tons were caused by himself, or, at any rate, by the eagerness of the young man to come to the a.s.sistance of his sisters. He felt grateful accordingly, and spared no pain to give him a.s.sistance and relief. He procured the best medical advice in the city. For several days the poor fellow lay in a very dangerous condition, hovering between life and death. His wounds were numerous and severe, and the excitement afterward, with the fatigue of the ride, had made his situation worse. But a strong const.i.tution was on his side, and he at length was able to leave his bed and his room.

He was as pale as death, and woefully emaciated. But the society of the ladies acted like a charm upon him; and from the moment when he left his room his strength came back rapidly.