Aunt Jane's Nieces Abroad
The path was in a crevasse where the rocks seemed once to have split. It
was narrow and steep, and before long ended in a _cul de sac_. The
little man thought they had reached their destination, then; but without
hesitation the boy climbed over a boulder and dropped into another path
on the opposite side, holding out a hand to assist the American.
Uncle John laughed at the necessity, but promptly slid his stout body
over the boulder and then paused to mop his brow.
"Much farther, Tato?"
"Just a step, signore."
"It is lucky you found Ferralti, or he might have died in these wilds
without a soul knowing he was here."
"That is true, signore."
"Well, is this the path?"
"Yes, signore. Follow me, please."
The cliffs were precipitous on both sides of them. It was another
crevasse, but not a long one. Presently the child came to a halt because
the way ended and they could proceed no farther. He leaned against the
rock and in a high-pitched, sweet voice sang part of a Sicilian ditty,
neither starting the verse nor ending it, but merely trilling out a
fragment.
Uncle John regarded him wonderingly; and then, with a sudden suspicion,
he demanded:
"You are not playing me false, Tato?"
"I, signore?" smiling frankly into the man's eyes; "you need never fear
Tato, signore. To be your friend, and Signor Ferralti's friend, makes me
very proud."
The rock he leaned against fell inward, noiselessly, and disclosed a
passage. It was short, for there was light at the other end.
The strange child darted in at once.
"This way, signore. He is here!"
Uncle John drew back. He had forgotten until now that these mountains
are dangerous. And something strange in the present proceedings, the
loneliness of the place and the elfish character of his guide, suddenly
warned him to be cautious.
"See here, my lad," he called: "I'll go no farther."
Instantly Tato was at his side again, grasping the man's hand in his
tiny brown one and searching his face with pleading eyes.
"Ah, signore, you will not fail your friend, when he is so near you and
in such great trouble?
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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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