Aunt Jane's Nieces Abroad
The brigand jumped and uttered a yell, at the same time whipping his
right hand underneath his left arm; for Beth's bullet had struck one of
his fingers and then flattened itself against the cliff.
That settled all argument, as far as Il Duca was concerned; for he now
had ample evidence that the stern-eyed girl above him could shoot, and
was not to be trifled with. All his life he had ruled by the terror of
his threats; to-day he was suddenly vanquished by a determination he
dared not withstand.
"Enough!" he cried. "Have your way."
He spoke to his men in Italian, and they hastened through the tunnel,
glad to escape.
Following their departure there was a brief silence, during which all
stood alert. Then, Tato, still half suspended against the cliff, said in
a clear, soft voice:
"Father, if you think you can escape, let them shoot me, and keep your
prisoners. The money for their ransom I brought to this place, and they
will pay it even yet to save their friends from your vengeance. Do not
let these wild Americans defeat us, I beg of you. I am not afraid. Save
yourself, and let them shoot me, if they will!"
Kenneth afterward declared that he thought "the jig was up" then, for
they had no intention whatever of harming Tato. It was all merely a bit
of American "bluff," and it succeeded because the brigand was a coward,
and dared not emulate his daughter's courage.
"No, no, Tato!" cried the Duke, brokenly, as he wrung his hands in
anguish. "There is more money to be had, but I have only one child. They
shall not harm a hair of your head, my pretty one!"
Patsy wanted to yell "bravo!" but wisely refrained. Her eyes were full
of tears, though, and her resolution at ebb tide.
Fortunately the men had made haste. They returned with surprising
promptness, pushing the amazed prisoners before them.
Uncle John, as he emerged from the tunnel, looked around upon the tragic
scene and gasped:
"Well, I declare!"
Count Ferralti was more composed, if equally surprised. He lifted his
hat politely to Beth and Patsy, and smiled with great satisfaction.
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There was once an honest journeyman tailor, by name Labakan, who learned his trade with an excellent master in Alexandria. It could not be said that Labakan was unhandy with the needle; on the contrary, he could make excellent work: moreover, one would have done him injustice to have called him lazy. Nevertheless, his companions knew not what to make of him, for he would often sew for hours together so rapidly that the needle would glow in his hand, and the thread smoke, and that none could equal him.
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