"Just help us to arrange things-that is right, thank you," said Gian to the stout man who was captain of our party. To my astonishment the stout man was doing just as he was bid, and was pacifying the women students and straightening up their easels and stools.

I was interested in watching Gian walking around, helping this one with a stroke of his crayon, saying a word to that, smiling and nodding to another. I just sat there and stared. These students were not regular art students, I could see that plainly. Some were children, ragged and barelegged, others were old men who worked in the gla.s.s-factories, and surely with hands too old and stiff to ever paint well. Still others were women and young girls of the town. I rubbed my eyes and tried to make it out!

The music we heard I could still hear-it came from the wine-shop across the way. I looked around and what do you believe? My companions had all gone. They had sneaked out one by one and left me alone.

I watched my chance and when the Master's back was turned I tiptoed out, too.

When I got down on the street I found I had left my cap, but I dared not go back after it. I made my way down to the landing, half running, and when I got there not a boat was to be seen-the three barcas and my gondola were gone.

I thought I could see them, out through the mist, a quarter of a mile away. I called aloud, but no answer came back but the hissing wind. I was in despair-they were stealing my boat, and if they did not steal it, it would surely be wrecked-my all, my precious boat!

I cried and wrung my hands. I prayed! And the howling winds only ran shrieking and laughing around the corners of the building.

I saw a glimmering light down the beach at a little landing. I ran to it, hoping some gondolier might be found who would row me over to the city. There was one boat at the landing and in it a hunchback, sound asleep, covered with a canvas. It was Gian Bellini's boat. I shook the hunchback into wakefulness and begged him to row me across to the city. I yelled into his deaf ears, but he pretended not to understand me. Then I showed him the silver coin-the double fare-and tried to place it in his hand. But no, he only shook his head.

I ran up the beach, still looking for a boat.

An hour had pa.s.sed.

I got back to the landing just as Gian came down to his boat.

I approached him and explained that I was a poor worker in the gla.s.s-factory, who had to work all day and half the night, and as I lived over in the city and my wife was dying, I must get home. Would he allow me to ride with His Highness? "Certainly-with pleasure, with pleasure!" he answered, and then pulling something from under his sash he said, "Is this your cap, Signor?" I took my cap, but my tongue was paralyzed for the moment so I could not thank him.

The wind had died down, the rain had ceased, and from between the blue-black clouds the moon shone out. Gian rowed with a strong, fine stroke, singing a "Te Deum Laudamus" softly to himself the while.

I lay there and wept, thinking of my boat, my all, my precious boat!

We reached the landing-and there was my boat, safely tied up, not a cushion nor a cord missing.

Gian Bellini? He may be a rogue as Pascale Salvini says-G.o.d knows! How can I tell-I am only a poor gondolier!

So here then endeth the Volume ent.i.tled "The Mintage," the same being Ten Stories and One More written by Elbert Hubbard. The whole done into a printed book by The Roycrofters at their Shop, which is in the Village of East Aurora, Erie County, New York State, this year of Grace mcmx and from the founding of The Roycroft Shop the Sixteenth.