Citation
Pax and Carlino

Material Information

Title:
Pax and Carlino a story
Series Title:
Children's library
Creator:
Beckman, Ernst, 1850-1924
Upton, Florence K ( Florence Kate ), 1873-1922 ( Illustrator )
T. Fisher Unwin (Firm) ( Publisher )
Place of Publication:
London
Publisher:
T. Fisher Unwin
Publication Date:
Language:
English
Physical Description:
196 p., [3] leaves of plates : ill. ; 18 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
Children -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Adventure and adventurers -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Voyages and travels -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Uncles -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Nurseries -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Gold -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Barbers -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Street life -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
People with disabilities -- Juvenile fiction ( lcsh )
Bldn -- 1894
Genre:
novel ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage:
England -- London
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )

Notes

General Note:
Title page printed in red and black.
Statement of Responsibility:
by Ernst Beckman ; illustrated by Florence K. Upton.

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Holding Location:
University of Florida
Rights Management:
This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections (special@uflib.ufl.edu) with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
026588024 ( ALEPH )
ALG2270 ( NOTIS )
222019875 ( OCLC )

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Full Text










TOO {
Coe est Slama
Oe eo Eee WL
Steeler

TERA OUP EA






CHILD,
fy.




LIBRARY





THE CHILDREN’S LIBRARY.

A CHINA CUP, AND OTHER STORIES.
THE BROWN OWL.

STORIES FROM FAIRYLAND.
TALES FROM THE MABINOGION.
THE STORY OF A PUPPET.

THE LITTLE PRINCESS.

IRISH FAIRY TALES.

AN ENCHANTED GARDEN.

LA BELLE NIVERNAISE.

THE FEATHER.

FINN AND HIS COMPANIONS.
NUTCRACKER AND MOUSE-KING.
THE PENTAMERONE,

_FINNISH LEGENDS.

THE POPE'S MULE,

THE LITTLE GLASS MAN.

THE MAGIC OAK-TREE.
ROBINSON CRUSOE.

PAX AND CARLINO,



(Others in. the Press.)














** WHAT IS MY BOY THINKING ABouT?’” Page 196.



PAX AND CARLINO
A Story

BY

ERNST BECKMAN

ILLUSTRATED BY FLORENCE K. UPTON

LONDON

T. FISHER UNWIN
1894







CHAPTER
I.
II.
III.
IV.
Vv.
VI.
VII.
VIII.
Ix.
XxX,
XI.

XII.

XIII.
XIV.
XV.
XVI.
XVII.
XVIII.
XIX.
XX.
XXII.
XXII.
XXIII.
XXIV,
XXV.

CONTENTS.

A CHUNK OF GOLD ...... ccc cece ee teens
ENTER Mr. HOoOK-NOSE..... Paso ck Sees
An Opp NURSERY . : 7
WHAT THE puRcouAer mouNe Gn Laue
EN STALE coe. ga woos atste sea. so eeaurcece tea etude cca
A RouGH BARBER.........eeee es a

A LIVING PARCEL....... cece eee ee eee eee
WHITHER ? 1... .. cece cece e eee ee eee eeee
OLD AND NEW ACQUAINTANCES ...........
THE WRONG COLUMBIA...... 0 eee ee eee
JEWELS ics sn-cccussariugs pene asi ste ne
GIULIA AND HER TROUPE...... .........
AWAY ! AWAY Vins cee veces cies cae eens
In THE HANDS OF THE POLICE...........
EcHOES FROM THE NORTH.......... 000005
“OLD Doc.” ..... cece eee te eens ee
*T AM YOUR UNCLE,” 2... 0... cece ee eee
TRAMPS AND VAGABONDS .......ceeeee eee
SOSAVE HIM!) 0c 0... ccc ee tee ee ee eene
A LETTER WITH A “‘ POSTFISCUM.”........
TWO SURPRISES. 1.1... ee ee eee ere
UNDER THE MAPLE .... cee cece eee eee nee
B

104
112






LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

. PAGE
“*WHAT IS MY BOY THINKING ABOUT ?’”

Frontispiece.
“THE BOY SEEMED TO HAVE CRIED HIMSELF TO

SLEEP.” ...cee eee eee

ee eee eee 29
“THEY SHARED A MEAL OF BREAD AND BISCUITS.” 57
“CARLINO WITH PAX ON HIS LAP.” ..........22--- 86
“ LIFTING HER SKIRT.” .....0 0.000 rans 6 7.1
“THE BOY SAT PERCHED ON THE EDGE.”.......... IVI






IS IT A TRUE STORY?

THAT is the question which will be almost
sure to come to the lips of children who read
about Carlino’s strange adventures.

To this I may answer both yes and no.

TI cannot say that everything has happened
just as I have related it.

On the other hand, facts are often stranger
than fiction, and in this case the very incidents
which seem the most unlikely are really true.

I may add that the story originated in the
experiences of a boy to whom I am, at the
present moment, acting as guardian. |

To him, CARLINO S., and to my own
seven-year-old FREDDY, this little book is
lovingly dedicated.






PAX AND CARLINO.

CHAPTER I.
A CHUNK OF GOLD.

THE martial-looking gendarme that was
leisurely pacing up and down the platform of
the railway-station of the little Italian town
stopped all of asudden. For the second time
within a few minutes he thought he heard a
small voice calling out in a strange language.

The gendarme was a traveled man. He
wore on his breast a bright medal, as a sign
that he was one of the famous thousand that
went with Garibaldi down to Sicily to fight for
the freedom of Italy. In his journeying he
had heard many dialects, but never any like
this. It sounded like Italian, but he was un-
able to understand a single word. Neither
was it English—at least, he had never heard

7



8 PAX AND CARLINO.

any “Ingless” speak that way. What could
it be?

“Madonna mia, what a wonderful lan-
guage!” he muttered to himself.

An almost uncanny feeling crept over him
when he heard that strange voice sound out
on the air in the darkness. It was a plaintive,
childlike voice, that seemed to proceed from
the baggage-room, which was locked up for
the night.

No mistake this time. There was some-
thing mysterious in there among the luggage.

As it was the particular business of the
stately gendarme to look out for the safety of
all those bags and boxes, piled up like mount-
ains along the walls of the room, he immedi-
ately went to the station-master’s window and
knocked.

“TI say, signore, there’s a queer sound in the
baggage-room. It is like a child’s voice—
unless it be a spirit’s. Please come out.”

He had scarcely finished before the dark-
eyed young station-master made his appear-
ance, with a lantern in his hand.

“Come on, Pietro,” he said, yawning. “I
suppose it is my duty to go with you, although



A CHUNK OF GOLD. 90

I am sure there isn’t anything there. I locked
the room myself an hour ago. It is all your
fancy,” he added, smiling. “Such a dark
night, you know.”

He turned the key in the lock, unfastened
the big iron bar, and opened the door. No
sound was heard. The lantern shed its yellow
light over rows upon rows of boxes, all sleep-
ing soundly in the most correct and respect-
able manner.

“Niente, niente, nothing at all,” said the
station-master. ‘“ Halloa, though, what is
that?”

In the narrow space between two American
trunks, that were looming up like two grain
elevators, the light fell upon something that
looked like a big round chunk of solid gold,
as it reflected the rays from the lantern. The
gendarme leaned forward to touch it. It was
not hard and cold like gold, but warm, and
soft like silk.

“Ecco, signore,’’ exclaimed Pietro, “here
is where the music came from. What a jolly
youngster! A whole bush of golden curls!
Sleeping now, you see. Tired out, poor
soul!”



Io PAX AND CARLINO.

And he tenderly lifted a little child from
the floor.

“ A girl?” asked the station-master. |

“Well, upon my honor, I don’t know,”
answered Pietro. ‘ Turn the light on it.”

The strong light fell on a pale, white face.
Two deep-blue eyes opened slowly, and gave
an astonished look at the big mustache that
leaned over them. Just one jerk—and be-
tween the surprised station-master and the
gendarme there stood, erect as a soldier, a
little boy with long golden curls falling down
over his shoulders. He looked from one of
the dark-faced Italians to the other. When
he noticed the three-cornered hat and the
sword of the gendarme, it suddenly seemed to
strike him that he had been lacking in polite-
ness. He drew himself up still straighter than
before, and, soldier fashion, put two fingers of
the right hand up to his blue cap, which he
had hurriedly put on, picking it up from the
floor.

The station-master and the gendarme burst
out laughing. The boy looked reproachfully
at them. He didn’t see anything ridiculous
in the situation at all. However, he fought



A CHUNK OF GOLD. It

manfully to keep back the tears that rose in
the anxious blue eyes, and in his most polite
manner addressed the gendarme.

The two men looked at each other. It was
a very charming, melodious sound that issued
forth between the child’s lips. To understand
it, however, was out of the question. It might
just as well have been the sweet song of a
strange bird.

At last the Italians could not control them-
selves any longer. Once more their merry
laughter rung out over the drowsy boxes in
the baggage-room. They would not have
hurt the child’s feelings if they could have
helped it, but the temptation was irresistible.
Their faces became quite sober when they saw
clear tears trickle down the pale cheeks of the
little stranger. Suddenly he hid his face in
his hands, his whole frame shaking with sup-
pressed sobbing.

A few minutes later he lay sound asleep on
the station-master’s couch, covered by his
great brass-buttoned overcoat. Beside him
stood an empty milk-pitcher and a half-emp-
tied little basket of luscious red grapes.

The station-master sat a good while smok-



12 PAX AND CARLINO,

ing his cigar and musing as to what nation the
little fellow could belong. He had in vain
tried French on him, and also a few words of
English and German, which he happened to
know.

Outside were heard the measured footsteps
of the gendarme, who was slowly pacing up
and down in the dark,



CHAPTER TI.
ENTER MR. HOOK-NOSE.

NEXT morning the little stranger had
scarcely rubbed the sleep out of his eyes when
he found himself lifted on the strong arms of
the gendarme up to the box of a big lumber-
ing stage-coach.

The driver placed the tiny passenger by his
side on the box, where he—driver and_-postil-
ion in one person—was enthroned, as proud
as a king, although he only wore a broad-
brimmed hat of black leather, instead of a
golden crown. The gendarme stepped up,
tucked the apron around his small friend, and
gave him a good kiss from under the black
mustache.

Then he said something to the driver, who
seemed very much amused. Finally he bade
good-by, addressing the boy in Italian, of
course: ‘ Addio, addio, little gold-head.”



14 PAX AND CARLINO.

All that the boy understood was the kiss
and the word “addio.” This was enough to
make him feel very sad. There was the sta-
tion-master also, saluting him in a military
way and smiling good-naturedly.

The driver slung the long lash of his whip
through the air with a crack loud as the report
of a pistol. The five gray horses were startled
out of their musings. They whisked their
tails, snorted, gave a strong pull, and the
heavy coach began to move.

“ Addio, addio!” called out the boy. His
quick ear had caught the Italian pronunciation
of this word. He kissed his hand to the two
men on the steps of the station.

The driver, looking quite astonished, turned
his face toward his curious companion on the
lofty box. Did the boy speak Italian after
all? That “addio” was correct, anyhow.

He decided to bring about an Italian con-
versation with the brave little fellow, who
looked so admiringly at his horses. Once
started, the jolly driver talked one perpetual
stream, while the coach was winding slowly
around the steep hill, on the top of which the
little town was perched like an immense eagle’s



ENTER MR. HOOK-NOSE. 15

nest. Naturally, he only got for an answer
an acknowledging smile from the boyish lips
or a gleam of sunshine in the serious blue
eyes.

Once only the boy ventured to open his
mouth. It seemed to have dawned upon the
driver that the foreign-looking passenger, after
all, did not understand Italian. One thing,
however, he must understand; and, pointing
in turn to each of the horses, the driver
repeated, very slowly, their names. Sure
enough, the boy showed that he caught the
point, for his face lighted up with pleasure.
He evidently did not think the introduction
complete, though, until the horses were also
told his name. Pointing to himself with his
slender forefinger, he slowly repeated several
times, “ Carl Ros.”

The driver hurriedly turned around to the
passengers inside the coach.

“Ladies and gentlemen,’ he exclaimed,
pointing the handle of his whip to the yellow
curls by his side, “the name of gold-head is
Carlorosso, Jolly name, jolly name!”

And he laughed and swung his whip, and
all the passengers—three Italians and a very



16 PAX AND CARLINO.

large English family—laughed also, and ex-
claimed: “Carlorosso! What a funny name!”

Master Carl had not time to find out that
he was the cause of all this merriment, for the
coach was now rolling into the main street of
the town. The wheels rumbled, sparks of fire
flew from the stones under the horses’ hoofs,
the driver cracked his whip furiously, so that
echoes rebounded from one side of the street
to the other, and dogs, chickens, and olive-
skinned urchins were dispersed to all the four
points of the compass. Then came a sudden
stop at the “ Albergo del Sole,” where the big
entrance was prettily adorned with waiters in
white neckties and well guarded by a gilded
portiére, all expecting the arrival of the “ In-
glese.”

Here the passengers alighted, and the por-
ters carried their luggage inside the house.
Both the passengers and the people of the
hotel seemed to have much to say to the
driver. He nodded in a very important man-
ner toward the boy, and several times, in
answer to their questions, straightened himself
up, put two fingers, like a soldier, up to the
brim of his hat, laughed, and repeated the



ENTER MR. HOOK-NOSE. 17

word ‘“Carlorosso, Carlorosso.” Then they
all laughed.

During all this time the innocent subject of
this jollity had no idea whatever that he was
giving the world so much pleasure. He now
and then looked anxiously up into the face of
the swarthy driver, turned to repeat, in his
pretty way, “ Addio, addio,” to the passen-
gers, waving his hand to them when they dis-
appeared into the hotel. At last, with much
hesitation, he proceeded to unfasten the apron,
his questioning blue eyes all the time trying
to attract the attention of the driver.

“No, no, signorino, you keep your seat,”
‘this dignitary exclaimed, rather gruffly, when
he observed the boy’s undertaking. The whip
cracked, the horses started, the coach rolled
along the street, passed the solemn cathedral,
and stopped at the door of an old palace, that
‘looked very much like a prison, although it
had on one side a garden full of late blooming
roses, shaded by live-oaks and olive-trees.

The poor boy must have thought that this
house really was a prison, he looked so scared
and pale.

‘The driver jumped down, and, holding the
c



18 PAX AND CARLINO.

reins with one hand, pulled a knob of a bell
with the other. The boy heard the sound fill
the passage and then die away before the
heavy door was opened, just enough to show
a hooked nose, a couple of jet-black eyes, part
of a black livery, and a low buckled shoe stuck
forward as in a position of defense.

The driver and footman in black talked very
excitedly for some minutes. The boy heard
the word “monsignore”’ repeated again and
again. He somehow got the idea that this
person, “ Mr. Monsignore,” was a very severe
man, who would be much displeased at his
arrival. Finally the footman slammed the
door and left the driver standing on the side-
walk.

In a few moments, however, Mr. Hook-nose
again appeared. This time he opened the
door fully, and, without a word, solemnly
nodded toward the little fellow on the box.
The driver lifted him down and placed him
inside the door, which was banged behind him
by the footman, before he even had time to
say “addio” to his friend of the coachman’s
box.

The grand footman gave the boy a sign to



ENTER MR. HOOK-NOSE. 19

follow, and passed before him through a long
vestibule up a magnificent flight. of stairs,
where old marble statues peeped out myste-
tiously from dark niches in the wall. At the
top of the stairs they entered a lofty gallery
covered from floor to ceiling with pictures in
gilded frames. At the farthest end of this
hall the footman drew aside a heavy red cur-
tain, and pushed the boy into the presence of
monsignore the bishop,



CHAPTER IItf.
AN ODD NURSERY.

THE prelate was sitting at a writing-desk
placed under a large crucifix carved in dark
wood. His head, where, in spite of the own-
er’s fifty-seven years, no trace of gray was
mixed with the black, leaned upon his hand.
He seemed to be deep in thought.

The boy had to wait some minutes before
the bishop looked in his direction. Meanwhile
he had time to come to the conclusion that, in
spite of the violet scarf around his waist, in
spite of the golden cross which glittered where
the long cassock was left unbuttoned, monsig-
nore was not half as imposing a person as his
footman.

Now the bishop looked up. He put on his
eyeglasses and surveyed the stranger. His
guest was in doubt whether to stop at the
door or to advance. At last he made up his



AN ODD NURSERY. 21

mind. He went straight to the prelate, put
out his thin hand, and made a very polite
bow.

He did not attempt to say anything, as he
had found that he was never understood. He
only looked entreatingly up into the bishop’s
face.

Now, monsignore was quite as noted for his
kind heart as he was for his big body, that
towered a full head above the clergy of his
diocese. He looked very much amused, and
immediately buried that little outstretched
hand in one of his own.

“Well, Carlorosso?’’ he said.

The boy shook his head in a sad way, in
order to express that he did not understand
Italian. Then the happy thought struck him.
This much-repeated word “ Carlorosso” was
perhaps meant for his own name.

Pointing, therefore, at himself, he ventured
to say, “ Carl Ros.”

“Si, si, just so,” said the bishop in his turn,
playfully poking him with his big forefinger:
“ Carlorosso, Carlorosso.”

He was just going to try to find out where
the boy hailed from by repeating the names



22 PAX AND CARLINO.

of all the different countries of Europe, when
he suddenly stopped himself.

“Why, how pale you look,” he exclaimed.

He had scarcely uttered these words before
the little stranger began to totter, and, mut-
tering a few words in his own language, sank
on the floor before the bishop had time to get
hold of him.

Looking frightfully scared, the bishop im-
petuously pulled the bell. This called the
solemn footman, who could not keep back a
smile when he saw his huge master with a
strange boy in his arms, holding him in that
awkward way in which inexperienced men
generally take hold of a baby.

“ Quick, fetch Assunta!” the bishop com-
manded.

It seemed an age to the good bishop before
Assunta arrived. She was an old woman who
lived in the porter’s lodge at the back entrance
on the other side of the garden. When she
at last bustled in, she stopped, dumfoundered,
with her hands joined before her, when. she
saw monsignore himself almost as pale as the
pale boy he was carrying to and fro,

“Assunta, the boy is dying in my arms,”



AN ODD NURSERY. 23

the bishop said, the perspiration breaking out
on his forehead.

“No, no, your Highness,” Assunta replied.
“Now, quick, put him down here flat on the
rug. Your Highness don’t know about chil-
dren. I have ten, and many a one of them
has been lying as pale as that little angel—
angelo @' Iddto.”

The boy was laid down on the rug. As-
sunta threw some cold water on to his face,
and bathed his temples with vézaigre, which
Mr. Hook-nose went to fetch with an injured
air, to show that he thought it quite below his
dignity to run errands for a beggar-boy, at
Assunta’s beck and call.

Monsignore had divested himself of his long
cassock, and tried to make himself generally
useful. Most of the time he seemed to be
rather in the way. He was quite grateful
when Assunta asked him to put a cushion on
the sofa.

“ He is coming to now, poor little soul,” she
said. “Pray, your eee do you know
his name?”

“It isa queer name: Carlorosso. Suppose
we call him Carlino,” said the bishop, who



24 PAX AND CARLINO.

was taking off the silver-embroidered cover
from the table in the middle of the room, to
throw it over the boy as a blanket.

Carlino opened his eyes just when it was
put over him. He gave the bishop one grate-
ful look, turned over on his side, and went to
sleep.

The physician who had been sent for looked
also somewhat taken aback when he saw his
Highness in his shirt-sleeves and old Assunta
in her white headgear, both doing duty as
nurses. He ordered the boy to be put to
bed—but where? There was, of course, no
nursery in the episcopal palace.

“Put him in the room outside my bed-
room,” commanded the bishop, who now
regained his composure.

Mr. Hook-nose in vain tried a few remon-
strances. The boy was undressed and put to
bed under the bishop’s own supervision.

“ How thin he is,” said the bishop, address-
ing the physician.

“Quite emaciated. He must have been
starved. Your Highness will have to fatten
your chick,” said the doctor, with a quizzical
look at the monsignore.



AN ODD NURSERY. 25

“Why, he will have to have some new
clothes, too,” said the bishop. “ This curly
head looks quite like some unnatural growth
sticking out of that dirty cotton jacket. An-
tonio,’ he said, turning to Mr. Hook-nose,
“you take his jacket and trousers and go down
to the Pacci’s in the arcade and tell them to
send up a warmer suit of the same size.”

Hook-nose looked at his master as though
he doubted whether he were quite right in his
mind. He thought best, however, to obey.

The bishop and the doctor left the room,
where Assunta stayed to watch. She crossed
herself and took out her rosary. Before she
began to say her prayers, she looked at the
sleeping boy, shook her head, and repeated:
“Poor little angel—angelo a’ lidio.”



CHAPTER IV.
WHAT THE BURGOMASTER FOUND OUT.

THE bishop retired to his room and wrote a
note to the burgomaster, “il sindaco,” asking
him to find out all he could about “the quaint
living package which the station-master had
been pleased to send him, without even asking
his permission.”

Two days later the fat, jocose burgomaster
called in person to report the results of his in-
vestigations.

“Well, your Highness,” he said, rubbing
his hands and making a very low bow, “ you
have to pay the penalty for being too good.
You have spoiled us, and now you see the
result. You have fallen a prey to that out-
landish little fellow, whose yellow curls seem
to have enthralled both the civil and ecclesias-
tical authorities in the persons of Pietro the



THE BURGOMASTER TRIES. 27

gendarme, and of your most reverend High-
ness yourself.”

“ All right, all right, my dear burgomaster,”
interrupted the bishop; ‘“‘ but what have you
found out about that outlandish little fellow,
as you call him?”

“Well, monsignore, upon my word it looks
like the beginning of a most extraordinary
story. The guard thought he remembered
that your gold-head took the train at the first
little station this side of Florence. I immedi-
ately telegraphed to the chief of police in that
city. This morning the postman brought this
letter. Perhaps your Highness will allow me
to read it to you?”

“ By all means,” said the bishop.

The burgomaster with an air of great im-
portance took the letter out of the envelope,
adorned with the armorial bearings of the city
of Florence. He cleared his throat, as a dig-
nified burgomaster ought to do, and read:

“ FIRENZE, October 3d.
“My DEAR SINDACO: The very same hour
that I received your Honor’s most esteemed
telegram, I gave strict orders to the force to do



28 PAX AND CARLINO.

everything in their power to throw some light
upon the parentage, nationality, etc., of the
protégé of yourself and his Highness, the most
distinguished Lord Bishop of your diocese.
Happily, the subject of these researches turned
out to be well known by the officers in the
north district, on account of his long golden
curls, which have attracted a good deal of at-
tention. It seems that ten days ago a dark,
middle-aged lady rented a small uninhabited
villa—Villa Saldoni—just outside the city
limits. She was dressed in English fashion,
but looked like an Italian. She also spoke
our language, although with a strange accent,
as if she might have been living many years
in foreign parts, possibly in England or in
America. Having paid the rent for a fort-
night in advance, she returned to the railway
station, where it appears that she had left the
boy alone on the platform with her luggage.
The boy was spoken to by the guard at the
station, but evidently did not understand Ital-
ian. The woman then drove over to the villa
in cab 163, the boy, as the driver noticed,
shivering in his thin summer clothes (a couple
of days in that week, as your Honor will re-







.

“THE BOY SEEMED TO HAVE CRIED HIMSELF TO SLEEP. Page 20.



THE BURGOMASTER TRIES. 29

member, being real autumn days, and unprec-
edentedly cold).

“The day after her arrival the neighbors
found that she left the boy the whole day all
by himself locked up in the house. This was
repeated several days in succession. When
the child was heard crying as if in distress, an
old lawyer, Signor Sonzogno, who lives oppo-
site the villa, went and looked in through the
windows. He beheld a pitiful sight: in the
damp, cold kitchen the little boy and a small
dachshund were fastened to the stove with the
same chain. The boy seemed to have cried
himself to sleep on the bare stone floor. By
him there were a jug of water and a crust of
brown bread. While the lawyer was still lool-
ing through the window, the woman happened
to come home. She went directly to him,
sharply asking, ‘What are you doing in this
place, sir?’ ‘Well, madam,’ he retorted, ‘I
will tell you that when you tell me what you
are doing with that poor boy chained up like
awild animal in a menagerie.’ ‘What am I
doing?’ she answered, giving the man a spite-
ful look. ‘I want to give that boy a good
education. Had he stayed with his parents,



30 PAX AND CARLINO.

they would have made him one of those effem-
inate milksops. I will give him a good Spar-
tan education. I will keep him with me, and
when he grows up he will be my courrier de
voyage.’ Signor S., exasperated at this effront-
ery, in leaving the premises said to the
woman, ‘It is a stolen child. I know it is.
What nonsense about your Spartan education!
I will see about this. I shall go this very
minute to notify the police. The woman
laughed scornfully.

“Of course, in telling her beforehand that
he was going to inform the authorities, Signor
S., although generally a very cautious man,
no doubt as you, my honored colleague, will
perceive, committed an imprudence. When
one of my constables arrived there, the woman,
probably frightened by this threat, had already
left our city. We have, of course, not had
any special reason further to look into this
matter until we received your favor of the Ist
instant. No doubt my supposition is right
that she thought it safest to get rid of the
boy, and managed to do so by smuggling him
into the left-luggage office at your station.

“T remain, yours, etc.,
“TL SINDACO,”



THE BURGOMASTER TRIES. 31

The reading finished, the burgomaster
handed the letter to the bishop.

“Your Highness may keep it. It contains
most valuable information in a most interest-
ing case.”

“Tt would be more valuable if it gave you
any idea where to catch that woman,” said the
bishop, rather curtly.

“Well, what would you do with that woman
even if you could catch her?” asked the bur-
gomaster, nettled. ‘‘ Would you give the boy
a blessing and send him back to that lady’s
loving, motherly bosom and Spartan educa-
tion? No doubt she is one of those tender
souls that travel around Europe to get hold of
little ones suitable for the noble calling of cir-
cus-riding or organ-grinding.”’

“My dear sindaco,” said the bishop, good-
humoredly, “pray don’t lose your temper.
You have done everything you could. You
are also right about the woman. I only wish
the letter had given some clue as to the nation-
ality of the boy.”

“ Monsignore,” said the burgomaster, his
round face flushed with anticipation of certain
success, “I am sure I can find that out for you
in less than two minutes, if I am only brought



32 PAX AND CARLINO.

face to face with your little canary bird. I
have not been a lawyer for twenty years for
nothing.”

An almost imperceptible smile lingered
around the firm mouth of the bishop, when he
touched a bell and told Antonio to ask As-
sunta whether she thought Carlino strong
enough to come for a few minutes into the
library.

Antonio sniffed with his hooked nose as
soon as the shut door hid this important
member from his master’s eye. He muttered
something about “absurd fussing,” but re-
turned, nevertheless, presently with the boy,
whose. deathly pale cheeks were tinged with
a delicate flush of rose color at the sight of the
strange gentleman.

Carlino made his most polite bow, and prof-
fered his hand, first to the bishop and then to
his guest.

“Well, Carlino,” began the latter, placing
the boy between his knees, “just tell me one
thing, just one thing. What country do you
come from?”

The jolly sindaco must have grown quite
absent-minded by looking into the sorrowful,



THE BURGOMASTER TRIES. 33

dreamy blue eyes of that boy, for he was say-
ing this in Italian. The boy looked helplessly
from the burgomaster to the bishop. To the
bishop’s lips came back the same almost im-
perceptible smile as before.

“Per Bacco, I forgot!” exclaimed the sin-
daco, disconcerted. ‘I remember now I was
told that he don’t understand Italian.”

He repeated the question, this time in very
poor English. The same result.

Then he tried German of the same quality.
“ He must be German,” he said, turning to the
bishop. All in vain.

The burgomaster looked puzzled. He raised
his voice, he asked over and over again, at
last roaring so that his face became red all
over.

“Why, the boy is deaf, monsignore,” he
exclaimed, looking in despair to the bishop.
To his utter amazement he now observed that
this high dignitary of the church had fallen
into a fit of laughter so violent that he could
scarcely keep his seat.

Carlino had felt his heart sink in his bosom
during the noisy questioning of the strange
gentleman. Looking up, he saw the bishop’s

D



34. PAX AND CARLINO.

hilarity. He smiled through his tears, and the
next second he joined in with a silvery peal of
laughter.

This merriment proved so contagious that
in a moment the burgomaster, altogether for-
getting his dignity, was fairly roaring. His
rotund body shook, he clapped his thighs with
his hands, in the midst of these paroxysms
calling out to the bishop:

“ Well—you—see—I—got—him—-at—last.
This is the—univer—sal—language.” It is
doubtful whether the bishop’s library ever
witnessed such a jolly scene. Quiet finally
restored, the burgomaster said: “ Now I will
try another method.”

Striving to make his whole person look like
a most expressive sign of interrogation, he
slowly repeated to Carlino in Italian, English,
French, and German the names of the different
countries of Europe, from Italy up to the far
north.

“Well, you have hit upon my plan. I was
just going to try that when the boy fainted,”
said the bishop.

The sindaco was too eager to be interrupted.
He went on with his polyglot geography. He



THE BURGOMASTER TRIES. 38

rather stumbled and hesitated when he came
to the less known of the northern countries.

Poor Carlino could only shake his head.
How could he know that Svezia, or Sweden,
or Suéde, or Schweden meant the country
which his child-heart already loved under the
very differently sounding name of Sverige ?

Just as little could the bishop or the sindaco
know that his longing thoughts were flying
like birds of passage northward to a pine-
shaded home, mirrored in the blue waters of
Lake Meelar.

Had the two Italians known the Swedish
colors, perhaps through some association of
ideas they would have been led to think of
Carlino’s country, as he stood there with the
yellow curls falling down on the due velvet
jacket, in which the bishop had been pleased
to dress his unexpected guest. They prob-
ably did not, and therefore the burgomaster,
playfully pinching Carlino’s ear, bade him
“addio,” and left the episcopal palace, if not
exactly a sadder, at least a wiser and less con-
ceited, man.



CHAPTER V.
IN STATE.

NEXT night Carlino had a strange dream.
In Sweden the spelling-books are adorned
with the picture of a cock, as a symbol of early
rising. One of the most magnificent of these
learned birds is found in the A BC book of
-Charles XIJ. This very cock, with its golden
royal crown, stepped bodily out of the first
page and began to examine Carlino. When
he did not know his lesson, the cock grew very
angry; it crowed in a higher and higher pitch,
bobbing its head so that the golden crown
rolled off the red comb. Carlino stooped
down to pick it up. When he looked up
again, lo! there was the cock changed into the
‘fat sindaco, looking so fierce that the boy
woke, sobbing, in a sudden fright. How he
wished that he were back at home with his

36



IN STATE, 37

parents, and could throw his arms around his
mother’s neck!

Involuntarily he stretched out his arms and
threw them around the neck of the bishop,
who that very moment was leaning over the
bed. Bachelor as he was, the prelate was
looking at the boy as tenderly as a father
might look at his first-born child.

“Carlino, Carlino mio, my little Carlino,
why do you cry?” said the bishop, soothingly.

The boy forgot all his fears, gave monsig-
nore a kiss, and threw himself back on the
pillows, a playful smile breaking through the
tears. .

The bishop made him understand that he
had better get up. Antonio brought his shoes,
and after a hasty breakfast he went, holding
the bishop’s hand, down to the entrance, where
the episcopal carriage was waiting. The bish-
op put the boy beside him in the carriage.

“To the station,’ he said to Hook-nose,
who shut the carriage-door and jumped up by
the footman.

That day people took a greater interest than
usual in the bishop’s well-known olive-green
carriage, drawn by the two black horses, whose



38 PAX AND CARLINO.

flowing tails, according to the fashion among
the horses of Italian church aristocracy, reached
almost to the ground. The object of this
special interest was a small white face lighted
by the great blue eyes, that peeped out of a
frame of golden curls. It formed a strong
contrast to the dark figure of the bishop and
the somber color of the whole equipage.

They soon turned from the main street
down into the winding road. The landscape
below their feet looked like a sea of undulating
hills, the most distant, blue, the nearer, green,
and flecked by olive-trees, all dotted with
churches and villas like white flowers. Far
away in the misty distance rose the snow-clad
tops of the Apennines. The sight of the
snow, an old acquaintance to the bewildered
little stranger, made him call out in his own
language. The bishop thought it sounded
half joy, half sorrow.

When the carriage stopped at the station,
Carlino had the pleasure of speaking to his old
friends, the gendarme and the station-master.
There was not much time, however, for the
whistle of the coming train already swept over



IN STATE. 39

the valley. Carlino went with the bishop out
on to the platform. He had long ago ceased
to wonder at anything that happened, the
last two months having been so full of strange
events. He thought this sudden trip quite
natural, and, under the circumstances, rather
pleasant, as he was to accompany his kind
friend the bishop.

Great was his dismay when monsignore said,
““ Addio, Carlino,” and stepped alone into the
railway-carriage.

“Be good to gold-head, Antonio. Iwill be
back in a week,” said the bishop to the foot-
man. The station-master gave the signal, the
sad shriek of the locomotive sounded far over
the country, off went the train, and there
stood by the side of Mr. Hook-nose a boy
whose heart that moment felt more lonely than
it is possible for grown-up people to under-
stand. Brave as he was, he cried and hid his
face in his hands, just as he had done when he
was found in the luggage-room of this very
station a few days before.

His kind friends of that day could not com-
fort him now, for his new friend Mr. Hook-



40 PAX AND CARLINO.

nose bustled him in a hurry into the bishop’s
carriage, slamming the door in an ominous
manner.

So it came about that gold-head, in grand
state, with a pair of horses and a footman, was
riding through the town all by himself in the
episcopal carriage.



CHAPTER VI.
A ROUGH BARBER.

ALAS! the grandeur of riding like a grown-
up géntleman in the bishop’s coupé did not
bring any comfort to the lonely soul which
enjoyed this great privilege.

The boy’s heart was filled with dark fore-
bodings. These half unconscious fears were
not dispersed by the looks of Antonio. There
is a way of saying hard things only with looks.
Mr. Hook-nose knew this art to perfection.
His dark eyes, from the very first moment
they rested upon the child, had plainly shown
their natural aversion to the honest blue eyes
of the Swedish boy.

From day to day Carlino now had the op-
portunity of seeing that Antonio was “ as good
as his looks.” That individual considered
cruelty to animals a very amusing and in-
nocent pastime. Freed from the restraint



42 PAX AND CARLINO.

caused by the bishop’s presence, he proved
more and more that he looked upon a foreign
boy as a good substitute for a donkey or a
bird. Of course he did not dare to beat or
kick Carlino. He only bullied him, and
pricked him with invisible pins and needles.
He laughed mockingly at him; he clinched his
fist before his face; he pretended to trip him
up with his foot. When serving Carlino’s
dinner, if the cook had put on the tray some
delicacy, like an extra fine peach or a “ zuppa
Inglese ” Antonio deliberately took it and ate
it before the boy’s eyes.

One day, when Carlino happened to go into
the bishop’s library, Antonio was burying his
hooked nose deep in a desk where the bishop
kept some of his valuables. The boy, who
wanted to get his cap, which he had left in the
room, innocently went to take it from the table
close to the desk. Antonio started, shut the
drawer, hid the key in his pocket, and, pale
with rage, caught the boy by the long curls.
With the free hand he took a pair of scissors
from the writing-table, and in a second there
fell on the carpet something like golden clus-
ters of acacia. One more cut of the scissors,



A ROUGH BARBER. 43

and the remaining curls shared the same
fate.

Now Carlino, in fact, had often wished to
get rid of his curls. It had happened more
than once on their account that he had been
taken for a girl. Now he felt very differently.
His whole being rebelled against this summary
performance by a person who had absolutely
no right over him. His surprise and indigna-
tion were too deep for words. When the curls
had fallen and his head was loosened from the
grip of Mr. Hook-nose, he did not utter a
sound. He simply turned around and gave
his tormentor a look of calm defiance. The
only sign of emotion was a trembling around
his lips. Then with an air of decision he went
off to his room.

It may have been the unexpectedness of the
boy’s behavior, or fear for the consequences of
an act which it would be difficult to explain;
at all events, Antonio soon seemed to regret the
outcome of his hasty mood. When he brought
the boy’s dinner he wore a most friendly face.
He even condescended with his own hands to
put the best piece of a fowl on his plate.

In the kitchen Mr. Hook-nose reported that



44 PAX AND CARLINO.

monsignore had ordered him “to crop the
youngster,” as he was to be put in the Choir-
boys’ School, and there, of course, “it would
be out of tune to keep such an elegant head-
gear as that.”



CHAPTER VIL
PAX.

A poor little four-legged creature was
moving slowly along the dusty road leading
from the railway-station up to the town. It
was a hungry-looking dog, a black dachshund
with pointed nose—one of those queer, short-
legged animals upon whom nature certainly
might have bestowed an extra pair of legs in
the middle, in order to support a body which
seems decidedly too long.

It was plain that the dog either was a stray
dog, without any master, or else was running
away without leave. Most likely the latter,
for he evidently had not a clear conscience.
He had a scared look when he met anybody,
man or beast. On,.such occasions his tail
dropped between his legs, and he cautiously
made a wide sweep, glancing sideways from
out his wise eyes, which looked very dark

45



46 PAX AND CARLINO.

under the light-brown spots that gave his
whole face a wild expression.

The dachshund, no doubt, had had a sad
experience of life. He did not trust man, nor
even his own kind. When he arrived in town
his whole behavior seemed, even more than
before, to express a humble apology for his
bare existence. When he met a dog in better
circumstances, he looked so humble that he
generally succeeded in escaping notice. Once
only an elegant greyhound made a dash at
him, but merely to turn proudly away, as a
closer inspection revealed his poverty-stricken
air.

This event served to quicken the pace of
our splayfooted friend. He waddled briskly
along on his crooked legs, led by his keen
scent. Without much hesitation he went
straight to his goal, which turned out to be
the episcopal palace. There he sniffed about
with a set expression, turned round the corner,
and ran at his fastest speed to the garden
entrance by the porter’s lodge. Standing up
on his hind legs, he looked between the iron
railings and gave a joyous bark. Here was
what he had been seeking through weary days



PAX. AT

and nights, running many miles along the rail-
way track or upon unknown roads. There in
the garden he beheld his friend and fellow-
traveler—indeed, he might say fellow-sufferer,
as the boy more than once had shared his own
chain.

He, the dachshund, had at first looked sus-
piciously upon this youngster, that so unex-
pectedly appeared in his mistress’s cabin when
the steamer at Cologne started up the Rhine.
Soon, however, he persuaded himself that the
boy was just as kind toward dogs as he was
lonely and sad. He therefore made up his
mind to bestow his friendship and protection
on the intruder.

To this decision he stuck faithfully, and he
had no reason to regret it. Many a time he
had received from that two-legged creature a
goodly share of its scant allowance of bread,
and often he had been sheltered from the
dampness of a bare stone floor by the loan of
its jacket.

Great was his sorrow and anxiety when he
missed the boy. He had noticed that their
mistress took him out at one station and then
came back alone. He very soon made up his



48 PAX AND CARLINO.

mind to start upon a search for his lost com-
panion.

Now he had found him. There he stood
by a rose-bush in the garden. Forgotten was
the weariness of the long tramp, forgotten the
fact that he had left a place disagreeable, no
doubt, in certain respects, but where he was
at least sure of his frugal daily bread. In his
joy he wagged his sleek round tail, he jumped
up at the railings, he barked and whined alter-
nately.

Finally he succeeded in attracting Carlino’s
attention.

There he comes—is running down the walk;
now he opens the gate, and the next second
he is sitting down on a carpet of red and yel-
low autumn leaves, caressing the dachshund,
who is licking his hands and face, and in its
eagerness rubbing off all the dust from its
glossy black skin on to the boy’s blue velvet
jacket.

At last the dog quietly nestled down in the
lap of his friend, who seemed to think that he
understood Swedish.

“Well, Pax, my little doggie,” he said in
his own language, “how thin you are! Now



PAX, 49

we'll run away, won’t we? You will help me
to find my parents. Hush! hush! don’t let
on to that black man coming down there.”
Pax looked intelligently up into the boy’s
face, as if he understood every word. His
natural temper, however, got the better of
him when his attention was drawn to Mr.
Hook-nose. He turned his head, pricked up
his ears, and, barking furiously, flew at the
black stockings. Poor fellow! he forgot that
when he started on his adventurous trip he
had chosen as his guide and watchword the
wise old saying “ Discretion is the better part
of valor.” He was hurled back by a violent
kick, which sent him flying off into the grass.
Luckily for him, through the fierceness of his
attack the shoe had dropped off Antonio’s big
foot. Now he was only enough hurt to be
willing to obey the boy’s call and withdraw
from the fight. Carlino did not, however,
succeed in shielding his friend from a cruel
whipping. When Hook-nose with a stick was
dealing heavy blows at the dog, Carlino made
a dash at him with clinched fists, and pum-
meled him with all his might and main. Alas!

his effort had no other effect than the man
EK



50 PAX AND CARLINO,

shaking himself free as a bulldog might shake
off a tiny cur. Antonio did not even strike
the boy, as the latter expected he would. As
soon as Pax was sent howling with pain into
a dark corner of the garden, Hook-nose only
laughed scornfully, and thereupon slowly
sauntered away, his hands in his trousers’
pockets. He looked very well contented with
himself, whistling cheerfully, as though he
were sure that this time he had behaved like
a real gentleman, a very good and forgiving
gentleman, not revenging himself, only using
his manly superiority for self-defense.



CHAPTER VIII.
P.. B.C.

CARLINO, pale with indignation, followed
with his eye the retreating form of Mr. Hook-
nose passing slowly along, until it disappeared
in the darkness as a part of darkness itself.
Having heard at last the sound. of his steps
clattering on the stairs leading to the servants’
hall, the boy ventured to stir. He crept into
the bushes, and, with a low whistle, called for
his friend. The poor dog came limping along,
looking so frightened and sad out of his mild
eyes that Carlino felt ready to cry. There was
no time, however, for tears. He put his pocket-
handkerchief down on the ground, and told Pax
to watch it, being sure that this faithful creature
would be found on the same spot when he
came back. He then hurried stealthily into
his room, filled his pocket and a handkerchief
with bread and biscuits, which for some days

51



52 LAX AND CARLINO.

he had secreted in a drawer, instead of eating
them with his meals. Ever since his advent-
ure with Antonio in the bishop’s library he
had made up his mind to run away. He
would try to get home, whatever might hap-
pen. He felt sure that now was the time to
start. Had not Pax come on purpose to be
his traveling companion?

He was just leaving the room, when he
turned back once more. He thought of the
kind bishop. If he only could leave some-
thing in the bishop’s room to show him how
grateful he was! He felt in his pockets; ex-
cept the biscuits, he had nothing but a knife
and a leather folding-cup. Both these things
he badly needed for his journey. He was
just going to give up his plan, when his eyes
fell upon a pair of his stockings left on a chair.
He immediately took one of them, went into
the bishop’s bedroom, and tucked it under the
blanket in the bed. It somehow seemed to
him that this odd visiting-card was better than
nothing. This done, he stole cautiously along
the passage, and, unnoticed, reached the gar-
den. Next minute he and Pax had left the
episcopal premises.



PPC 53

At half-past nine—about an hour after their
flight—the bell of the palace was rung in a
very imperative manner.

Mr. Hook-nose, who answered the bell, was
very much surprised, and even startled, to see
the jolly face of the fat sindaco, who, panting
with the exertion of rapid walking, very eag-
erly proceeded to communicate the contents
of a letter received from the bishop.

The letter ran as follows:

“ ROME, October 7th.

“My DEAR SINDACO: Imagine how pleased
I was yesterday to have from a friend some-
thing that surely concerns our gold-head. My
friend was invited to dine with the Swedish
ambassador. That gentleman happened to say
that he had read in the Swedish papers about
a very well known Swede and his wife who in
a mysterious manner had lost their only child,
a boy six years of age. They stayed over
night at Cologne, and next morning the boy,
who had been playing in the hotel garden by
the river, was nowhere to be found. It was be-
lieved that he had been drowned, as his straw
hat was found in the river. The distressed



54 PAX AND CARLINO.

parents decided to spend some weeks on the
Rhine. a Swedish painter, who told them about his
having noticed on the train between Milan and
Florence a most picturesque little fellow, who
formed a striking contrast to the dark Italian
children. His eyes were deep blue, and long
golden curls fell to his shoulders. ‘7hat zs
my boy!’ immediately exclaimed the lady,
to the great astonishment of the painter,
who never had heard about their child being
lost.

“T need not tell you, my dear sindaco, that
my friend had scarcely finished before I hurried
to the house of the Swedish ambassador, who
looked rather astonished at being called upon
by a Roman Catholic bishop, but, nevertheless,
received me most courteously. He was very
much interested in my account of our protégé,
and we decided that the boy ought immedi-
ately to be sent to the Swedish embassy. May
Task you kindly to see about his being put on
the night train so that he can be here in the
morning ?

“Yours, etc,”



PPC, 5s

The sindaco, having in few words told An-
- tonio the contents of the above letter, asked
him to get the boy ready immediately.

“T will go with him myself,” he added, with
his look of official importance.

Mr. Hook-nose actually, in spite of his grand
manners, looked thrown off his balance. He
was revolving in his mind the possibilities of
explaining to the burgomaster the sudden dis-
appearance of gold-head’s golden curls. He
had much on his conscience just now, and did
not like the authorities to look into his game.
It was a relief to him when he came back to
be able to say Carlino was not to be found in
the house nor in the garden.

“ He can’t be far away, sir,’ he added, put-
ting on an unconcerned air. “I saw him in
the garden not long ago. He certainly will
be back in a little while.”



CHAPTER IX.
THE ARTIFICIAL CRIPPLE.

Pax looked upon four legs as a sure sign of
superiority over a two-legged companion—at
least as far as walking was concerned. From
the very outset he took the command, and
led the trotting just in advance of Carlino.
Strange to say, he did not seem to have any
hesitation as to the road. It almost looked as
though he had been over the country before
and planned the route in detail.

On the whole, the two friends were of good
cheer. They plodded along in the dark. Pax
especially was in the happy humor that always
follows success. The whole maneuver was a
triumph for his sagacity and his superior scent,
in which he, however personally unassuming,
placed a very decided family pride.

As for Carlino, he had, like many a Swedish
boy, a love of adventure that learned men
have tried to prove an heirloom from the old

56





“THEY SHARED A MEAL OF BE



Db AND biscurrs.” Page 57.



THE ARTIFICIAL CRIPPLE. 57

Vikings. It was this same adventurous spirit,
coupled with an unbounded confidence in his
fellow-creatures, that had led him to accept at
Cologne the invitation, given in the universal
language of signs, of an unknown lady—an
invitation to enjoy a meal of raisins and apri-
cots in the cabin on board the steamer.

Sure enough, the sad outcome of this visit,
as well as the last days’ intercourse with Mr.
Hook-nose, had somewhat ruffled Carlino’s op-
timistic view of humankind. -

If he had been older he might perhaps have
spoken his mind in the words of the philoso-
pher who said, “The better I learn to know
man, the better I love dogs.” Happily, he
was too hopeful yet for such pessimism. Ex-
hilarated by the tramp, and homeward bound,
as he thought, he cheerfully followed the par-
ticular dog that he loved, and left mankind
out of account.

Having walked for about three hours, the
two travelers stopped in the shelter of a big
walnut-tree. There they shared a meal of
bread and biscuits out of the provision that
Carlino had brought with him. This agreeable
occupation soon coming to an end, Pax had the



58 PAX AND CARLINO.

good sense immediately to start afresh. The
boy would have liked a great deal better to
lie down then and there for a nap, in spite of
the chill night air; but he was unwilling to
acknowledge himself tired before such a little
fellow as Pax, so they trudged on.

The night grew darker and darker. The
stars, that hung like glistening lamps from the
vast deep-blue cupola over their heads, were
by and by covered with clouds, sailing like
huge black vessels before a wind that blew
harder every minute. Soon a heavy rain be-
gan to fall, in big, cold drops. It was not
long before the two companions had not a dry
thread on their backs—be it said without lack
of respect for Mr. Pax’s glossy black fur coat.
The boy tried manfully to bear both the rain
and the cold as best he could. “ Father likes
me to be brave,” he said to himself. But he
could not help shedding tears as he thought
of his home with the snug white bed, and of
his mother, coming every night, as long as he
could remember, to hear his evening prayer,
and give him his good-night kiss.

The worst of it all was an overwhelming
sleepiness that was creeping over him. He



THE ARTIFICIAL CRIPPLE. 59

actually almost slept walking. Pax looked
back anxiously when the boy reeled from one
side of the road to the other. The dog grew
still more alarmed when his sharp ears heard
the dull sound of hoofs coming closer and
closer upon them. Suddenly there was a
thump, Carlino tumbled headlong on the road,
Pax gave a distressed bark, and the strong
voice of a man was heard calling out, ““ Whoa,
Rosina!” The rider got down, lit the candle
of a small lantern, which barely gave light
enough to reveal Carlino as he crawled out of
the mud, unhurt, from under the legs of a
long-eared donkey answering to the poetical
name of Rosina.

Luckily for him, that worthy soul, with the
remarkable common sense of her much ma-
ligned race, had stopped as if rooted to the
ground, in order not to hurt the boy whom
she had inadvertently upset. The wise crea-
ture whisked her long ears, turned her rugged
head, and bestowed one half-humorous glance
upon the victim, as if measuring his size and
his weight. She seenfed rather set at ease
when she saw that it was a small and thin boy.
She no doubt inferred that her master, as



60 PAX AND CARLINO.

“damages” due to the boy, would invite him
to take a ride.

So he did. He lifted Carlino up, and placed
him in a big basket hanging on one side of the
patient Rosina. The corresponding basket on
the other side was already occupied by a sleep-
ing Italian youngster just as dark as the little
Swede was fair. Behind the saddle, on the
top of a haystack, were fastened two small
crutches, a guitar, a violin, a tambourine, and
a flute. The man having mounted, the won-
derful Rosina carried the whole caravan all by
herself. Pax formed the rear-guard.

Carlino soon went to sleep. He was waked
_ by the hot rays of the sun literally scorching
his neck. Rosina’s master was walking by
the roadside. He was a tall man with a big
black beard. On his head he wore a coni-
cal felt hat adorned with red tassels. His
stately body was clad in red waistcoat, blue
jacket, knickerbockers of yellow leather, and
broad sandals bound with blue ribbons. The
little Italian boy, who was running ahead, gam-
boling with Pax, wore the same garb in minia-
ture. The father gave a sharp whistle, which
called the boy back. Rosina halted, and, to



THE ARTIFICIAL CRIPPLE. 61

the astonishment of Carlino, the man took
down the crutches and hooked up one of the
legs of the boy, who hobbled along, putting
on a serious face. The boy being now in full
uniform, ready for action, his father went to
assist Rosina in her toilet. He decorated her
head with a gorgeous tuft of cock’s feathers
standing up between her long ears. Then he
attached around her belly a string of prettily
jingling brass bells fastened to a piece of fur.

“Why, the chap is awake!” the man mut-
tered, when he noticed Carlino, who was look-
ing intently at him out of his hanging bed.
He lifted him down, and, pulling out some
bread and cheese from the depth of the basket
where Carlino had spent the night, he gave
the whole troupe a square meal; for dessert,
Pax and the little Italian, Giacomo by name,
had the last episcopal biscuits out of Carlino’s
pocket.

Of course Rosina was not included in the
treat. She had to look out for herself, accord-
ing to the Italian rule that “an ass ought to
feed on nothing.” She bore her fate with a
resigned air, browsing a few mouthfuls of
dusty thistles from the roadside.



62 PAX AND CARLINO.

When they had finished their breakfast, the
man hung the guitar by its faded red ribbon
over his shoulder, and thrust the tambourine
into the hands of the astonished Carlino, who
looked quite changed in his begrimed suit,
with his unwashed face, deprived of its set-
ting of yellow curls. After all, tambourine in
hand, he did not seem very much out of place
as a member of a troupe of wandering musi-
cians.

The procession moved on, and a funny pro-
cession it was. At the head, the man, with
his grave face, playing his guitar and singing
a jolly song at the top of his voice; then
Rosina with her baskets, pompously nodding
her wise head, her bells dingling their merry
accompaniment; behind her, the youngsters,
Carlino already knocking the tambourine in a
manner that promised very well for a future
artistic career, and Giacomo, the artificial crip-
ple, showing to the astonished, barking Pax
his cleverness in throwing one of his crutches
high in the air and catching it again.



CHAPTER X.
A LIVING PARCEL.

THE road made a sharp turn by the gray
wall of a vineyard. Two brawny women were
coming down the steps leading to the road.
They were balancing on their heads low bas-
kets with grapes, some of the bunches lolling
over the edge almost to their shoulders. They
both stopped to look at the procession, which
ascended the hill toward a large stone house,
an old palace, or rather part of a palace, one
half being in ruins, its broken walls and ar-
cades covered with ivy. The other half was
used as a common abode for the farmer, his
mules, his pair of spotless gray oxen, his -
chickens, and his children. The musician went
to the door, overhung by heavy ears of bright
yellow corn, took off his hat, and asked a
question. The answer evidently was agree-
able, for, with a very contented air, he marched
his troop along past the house, singing:

63



64. PAX AND CARLINO.

“* How sweetly sounds thy guitar,
O orange flower!
But sweeter than the rest by far,
O orange flower,
That little string, the last dear string,
Where love and dance together sing.”

When they reached the small open yard on
the other side of the house, Carlino stopped
short in astonishment at the sight before him.

On the top of a wall, overlooking the valley,
there were placed three large stone vats,
heaped full of grapes, red, blue, and white.
To the sound of a clarionet, young men, their
heads crowned with vine-leaves, their legs bare
up to the thighs, were merrily dancing on the
bed of grapes.

The performer on the clarionet stopped
playing as soon as he caught sight of the well-
known musician. The dancers also stopped
dancing, and from their lips, as well as from
those of the bystanders, went up one shout of
joy, saluting the “artista.”’ When the musi-
cian had finished the song he was singing, he
put his guitar in its place on Rosina’s back,
took down the violin, stayed his little cripple
against the wall with a flute before his mouth,



A LIVING PARCEL. 65

and so the dance began with renewed vigor.
The bleeding grapes spurted their purple jets
around the dancers’ naked feet, the juice
sprinkled their sunburned faces, their black
hair was bedewed by the mist of wine. When
one pair of dancers were tired, they were re-
lieved by others. New pails of grapes were
emptied into the vats, when their contents
were well pressed down, the juice all the
time, like a reddish brook, trickling down into
wooden butts below.

The lively music attracted the people from
the village, distant but astone’s-throw. When
the musician thought his audience well warmed
by song and music, he made signs to Carlino
to take up a collection in the tambourine.
Far from objecting, Carlino enjoyed his new
dignity very much. Every time a greasy
soldo danced on the yellowish skin of his tam-
bourine, he saluted, soldier fashion, touching
his cap with two fingers. When he had gone
the round, he handed the tambourine to the
musician with a profound bow.

“O bellino! O carino!” ‘How sweet he
is! What a darling!” the women exclaimed,

laughing so that their white teeth gleamed in
F



66 PAX AND CARLINO.

the sun, to vie with their golden ear-rings,
which swung lustily when they moved their
heads to and fro, repeating their “ bellino,
carino.”’

In the middle of the. day there was a pause,
all the helpers in the vintage being treated to
a good dinner of polenta and bacon, with
wine.

All having rested until the day was some-
what cooler, dancers, musicians, and lookers-
on were again ready for work. The boys were
allowed the afternoon free. They improved
the opportunity to visit a pond not very far
off. Walled in by steep masonry, it had been
built in the old signorial times, when the
guests of the palace rowed about in tiny cha-
loupes, gay pennants being mirrored in the
clear, deep water. The water was still clear
and transparent, but its level now stood several
feet lower. The boys played together, keep-
ing up a constant conversation by means of
signs and a few common Italian words which
Carlino had learned. Giacomo showed his
skill in throwing one of his crutches high up
in the air and catching it again on the very
edge of the parapet, jumping on one leg, as



A LIVING PARCEL. 67

the rules in the vicinity of a village would
not allow him to unhook the one that made
him professionally a cripple. Suddenly he
lost his balance, set up a piercing yell, and
disappeared in the water.

Carlino, like many of the boys and girls of
Sweden, had had an amphibious education, so
tospeak. He had known the art of swimming
since he was four years old. Without a sec-
ond’s hesitation, he threw off his jacket and
plunged, like an arrow, headforemost into the
water, in order to rescue the Italian boy, who,
even if he had been a swimmer, was fatally
hampered by his crooked leg. He managed
to reach the struggling fellow just as he was
about for the second time to disappear under
the surface. In his frantic effort to catch hold
of something to save himself by, the poor little
Italian nearly dragged Carlino down into the
depths, seizing him around the neck so that
he could not swim. Carlino succeeded, how-
ever, in freeing himself, at the same time hold-
ing up Giacomo with one hand. He clung to
the steep masonry so hard that the blood was
pressed out of his bruised fingers. Pax also,
who wanted to lend a hand, or foot, in the



68 PAX AND CARLINO.

work of rescue, jumped into the water. His
anxious yelps mingled with Carlino’s desperate
shouts for help.

At last some one heard their cries. The
music at the vintage stopped, and the whole
crowd, headed by the musician, came running
to the pond. One of the young men was low-
ered, several others holding on to his legs.
His strong arms soon brought all the unfort-
unates up on dry ground.

It was high time, for they all were nearly
exhausted. Thereupon they were carried in
solemn procession toward the farmhouse, Gia-
como, half crying, half laughing, telling his
father, and any one else that would listen,
what a brave boy “that foreigner was,” and
how he, Giacomo, would have been drowned,
“really drowned, most certainly drowned,”
had not “ gold-head,” as he called him, risked
his own life to save him.

Carlino had now become the hero of the
day. When their clothes were hung up to
dry before a fire in the kitchen, he and Gia-
como, wrapped in shawls, were surrounded by
a regular court of men and women, gathered
to hear Giacomo tell the adventure and to



A LIVING PARCEL. 69

compliment “the brave foreign boy.” “Oh,
bravo, bravo! ” they all called out.

The musician had to tell circumstantially
how he happened to meet him. Then he was
asked about the boy’s father and mother,
where he came from, and what he, the musi-
cian, was going to do about him, etc., etc.

While this: eager talk was going on around
the blazing fire of dry vine and olive branches,
the door was opened for Father Giovanni, the
Franciscan, the temporary assistant of the
village priest. Having a great thirst for knowl-
edge, the reverend gentleman had started for
the farm on the very first rumor of “ some-
thing having happened.” As soon as he was
seated, he took out a greasy wooden snuff-box
from the depths of a spacious pocket fastened
to the rope which he used as a scarf around
his heavy brown gown. Giving a tap with
two fingers on the lid, he looked around as if
taking in the whole company, strengthened
himself with a goodly pinch, and entered upon
a kind of cross-examination of all and every
one present.

In the midst of this solemn proceeding an
unexpected occurrence took place. In _ his



70 PAX AND CARLINO,

eagerness to tell the reverend father how it
happened, Giacomo forgot about being by
profession a cripple, and, all of a sudden, rush-
ing into the middle of the room, threw himself
down on the floor to show how he tumbled in.
The whole kitchen was filled with laughter at
this sudden and radical cure. The boy looked so
funny that his father, however dismayed at such
a lack of regard for business principles, could
not resist joining in the general merriment.
The uproar having ceased, the monk entered
upon the more embarrassing question of Car-
lino’s past, present, and future. His success in
examining the boy was slight indeed, as he
neither understood nor was understood. At
last, in a rather impatient mood, he undertook
to catechise Carlino’s jacket, which was hang-
ing on the back of the chair. Something fell
out of the pocket. It was the leathern cup,
one of those old-fashioned ones shaped like a
little folded canoe. Not having been used
since Carlino was last with his parents, it was
as if glued together when Father Giovanni,
who never before had seen an article of the
kind, carefully examined it. He handed it to
Carlino, who with an effort succeeded in open-



A LIVING PARCEL. 71

ing it. Then there dropped out of it a slip of
paper. It was the upper part of an envelope
with an American stamp on it, and a few
words printed in the left-hand corner.

The reverend father eagerly seized the
paper, The printed words ran thus;

““CarL O. Ros,
Columbia, Me.,
U.S. of America.”

Father Giovanni, who was perfectly igno-
rant of English, stumbled through these words
over and over again, as best he could. At
last he slowly and meditatively took another
pinch of snuff. Then he put his forefinger to
his forehead and rested so, wrapped in thought.
In a little while he gave a low whistle. Now
he understood the mysterious inscription, or
at least part of it. He had already found out
from the boy himself that his name was Car-
lorosso, or Carloros, or something like that.
Was it not plain that here was the address of
his father? Again, if such were the case—this
was his next, perhaps somewhat rash, con-
clusion—was it not just as plain that the
boy ought to be forwarded to Columbia to



72 PAX AND CARLINO.

his father? He, Padre Giovanni, of the holy
order of the Franciscans, would see about that
being done without delay. He would himself go
with the boy by rail to Genoa, where the great
steamer was lying, ready to take emigrants.

Having expounded this plan in all its de-
tails to his congregation around the fire, the
father, upon the spot, proceeded to make a
collection, which included some heavy clothing
that might be needed for the voyage. Thus
Carlino became the happy owner of an im-
mense round cloak, and of Giacomo’s red
waistcoat, which the Italian boy, notwithstand-
ing Carlino’s attitude of decided protest, in-
sisted on bestowing upon him. The hat hav-
ing made its round, Father Giovanni counted
the little sum, and then disappeared with Car-
lino’s jacket into the adjoining room. There
he got from the farmer’s wife a piece of cham-
ois leather, half a foot square. On its yellow
ground he wrote with brush and black paint
the following inscription in Italian:

** Please forward to
SIGNOR CARLOROS,
Columbia, America.
Providence pays freight.”



A LIVING PARCEL. 73

The farmer’s wife sewed this odd label se-
curely on to the left front of the jacket. Wav-
.ing this masterpiece in his hand as a flag, the
padre again made his appearance in the kitchen.
A murmur of admiration went through the
crowd when the scheme was explained to
them. Even Carlino somehow got a vague
idea that the warm-hearted Father Giovanni
was going to help him home to his parents.

During the two hours they had to wait be-
fore the arrival of the train bound for Genoa, .
Carlino enjoyed himself highly.

The stirring events of the last two days, the
evident kindness of all these people, the possi-
bility of a sort of conversation with Giacomo,
who almost seemed to understand Swedish,
the very undefined, but none the less, as he
thought, certain hope that he now was to be
put on the right track for home, and last, but
not least, the strengthening dinner after the
cold bath—all served to bring back his ordi-
nary buoyancy of spirits, sorely affected by the
last weeks’ trials and separation.



CHAPTER Xl,
WHITHER?

AT nine o’clock in the evening, Father
Giovanni, Carlino, and Pax, the latter snarling
suspiciously at the monk’s bare feet, stuck in
loose wooden sandals, passed up the gangway
to the steamship “ Allonia,” which was to
transfer directly to Charleston, S. C., a large
number of Italian emigrants bound for various
points of destination in the Southern States.

With the addition of what cash the reverend
father produced out of his own savings, the
collection was enough to pay Carlino’s passage,
at the very reduced price then current. As-
sisted by the Italian interpreter, Father Gio-
vanni impressed upon the officer by whom they
were received on board that his little protégé
was a most remarkable person, and that he
ought to be well cared for, and that his parents
would be sure to show their gratitude upon his
arrival. The officer—it was the second mate

14



WHITHER? 78

—listened in a very absent-minded way, the
father thought. He did not even answer, only
looked fixedly at the boy. The reverend gen-
tleman then tried to get him into a more com-
municative mood by enticing him to regale
himself with a pinch of snuff. When the
American rather sternly refused this peace-
offering, Father Giovanni, with a humorous
look of offended astonishment, consoled himself
with a generous pinch of the aromatic powder,
and turned to accompany Carlino to his place
in the steerage.

As the steamer was to lift anchor early next
morning, Father Giovanni soon had to bid
good-by. Carlino, who was very fond of giv-
ing presents, took the leather cup out of his
pocket and thrust it into the monk’s wallet.
He could not understand why this seemed to
make the father sad. At any rate, he very
plainly saw him wiping away a tear from the
brown, sunburned cheek.

Next minute Father Giovanni’s slippers
were shuffling along the gangway, Pax stand-
ing at the top and giving several short, discon-
tented barks at the descending feet.

Pax was perhaps not altogether wrong in



76 PAX AND CARLINO.

barking at the retreating form of the reverend
father; for in that gentleman’s wallet there
was, inside the leather cup, which could be
easily replaced, another thing that could not.
There was the piece of paper with the address.
It was not the address of Carlino’s father, as
the monk had taken it for granted, but it was
the name and residence of an uncle, who had
been living for more than twenty years in
America. He would of course have received
Carlino into his home, had the boy come there.
Unluckily, on the chamois label that Father
Giovanni attached to his living package, the
reverend father, in making his Italian version,
had not only unintentionally changed the gen-
tleman’s name, but also left out two small let-
ters, “We.,” the significance of which he did
not understand. He knew only about one
Columbia. Even that held a very vague place
in his mind. It would have been to him just
as much a myth as a city in the moon, had he
not happened to hear the name that very day.
A woman of his village had told him about
meeting in the morning train, when she was
going to market, a distant relative of hers, a
man by the name of Antonio, who had been



WHITHER? 77

for some time footman to the bishop of the
diocese. This Antonio was about to sail for
America in the steamer “Allonia.” He was
going to join a brother of his who was a fruit-
vendor in a town by the name of “ Colombia.”

The possibility never struck Father Giovanni
that there could be more than one American
town named in honor of his great countryman,
the weaver’s son from Genoa. Still less could
he—or, for that matter, any other uninitiated
person—imagine that those two unimportant-
looking letters were the sign-posts to show a
traveler which way to choose in order to reach
the right Columbia out of the baker’s dozen
or thereabouts which are liberally scattered
among the different States of the Union.

Such, however, was the case. The two let-
ters signified the State of Maine, the most
northern of the Northern States. Could it
be that Pax, with his wonderful sagacity, had
some gloomy forebodings as to the result of
this slight omission ?

On the whole, life on shipboard from the
very outset disagreed with Pax. He looked
dejected, and shortly after embarking he crept
into one of the boats, where he sullenly curled



78 PAX AND CARLINO.

himself up with his nose between his paws.
Nothing stirred him until the steam-whistle
with its hoarse shriek signaled to the world
that the sea-monster was bidding fair Italy
“addio.” Then Pax in a most discreditable
manner howled and barked at the noble city
of Genoa, whose white marble palaces seemed
slowly to sink into the blue waters as the ves-
sel steamed off, the foam in snowy flakes surg-
ing around its proud black bow.

Carlino was asleep when this happened—
asleep and dreaming in a snug berth with white
sheets and a clean blanket—a bed altogether
different from the empty bunk in the steerage.
He had already gone to sleep among the rest
on his hard board, with his round cloak over
him, too tired even to look for his beloved
Pax, when the second mate came in and took
the boy, cloak and all, in his strong arms, car-
ried him into his cabin, and laid him softly
down at the foot of his own bed. Having
done this, the officer looked around to see that
the door was well closed against inquisitive
eyes. Then he stooped down and kissed him
tenderly. Or perhaps it might be more true
to say that in kissing the unknown stranger



WHITHER? 79

he kissed another fair child with golden hair
—his own darling boy, for more than two
years sleeping quietly under the weeping ashes
at Greenwood Cemetery, outside New York.
The tall, weather-beaten sailor stood several
minutes looking at the boy who bore such a
striking resemblance to the beloved child whom
he so often, in his short stays at home, had
watched in his sleep.

At last he heaved a deep sigh, drew the
green shade over the lamp, and went out into
the night.



CHAPTER XIL.
OLD AND NEW ACQUAINTANCES.

For a couple of days Carlino, like most of
the landsmen, had to pay his tribute to old
Neptune. As soon as he had overcome his
seasickness, he enjoyed the voyage famously.
He began to regain the freedom and natural-
ness which were his special characteristics.
This was to a great extent brought about by
the kindness of the second mate, who treated
him as his own child. A special pleasure to
the boy was to pick up English. It was by
far an easier language than Italian. The
words were actually often the same as in
Swedish. It would be great fun, he thought,
when he was now so soon to reach his home
in Sweden, to astonish his father and mother
with his learning, as well as with his remark-
able adventures.

No questions were asked concerning Car-

lino’s point of destination. His knowledge
80



OLD AND NEW ACQUAINTANCES, 81

of English was not comprehensive enough to
allow any explanation as to the mystery of his
traveling all alone. There was the address on
his jacket ; and the fact that one of the sailors,
who had formerly shared the cabin with a
Swede, insisted on the boy’s mother-tongue
being Swedish, was not so very astonishing,
after all. Those Scandinavians settled in al-
most any part of the States. The boy’s par-
ents, no doubt, were emigrants that had sent
for their child. Why he came by the round-
about way of Italy certainly seemed very
strange, but none the less it was a fact. A fact
it was also that Carlino, who had the perfect
freedom of the ship, was the favorite of all,
officers and crew alike. He amused them with
his fearless ways, his straight, soldier-like back,
and his sweet voice in singing the strange mel-
odies of his country, and he won their hearts by
his thoughtfulness for others, and his charming
tact and politeness.

Once he very nearly failed in the latter
respect. He was going forward in order to
have a better look at the white-caps, which
caught the brilliancy of the red evening sun.

Suddenly he was startled by a furious barking.
G



82 PAX AND CARLINO.

He found Pax in this manner showing his dis-
approval of a figure very different from any-
thing the boy’s eyes had ever beheld. It was
a man dressed all in white: white jacket, white
trousers, white apron, and a big white cap
crowning a woolly head—a head which was all
black and shiny as the fellow’s own unexcep-
tionable shoes. The only thing not black in
the blackness of that face was the white of the
eyes, and a double row of white teeth between
a pair of thick lips. Carlino actually fell back
at the sudden appearance of that unearthly
human magpie. To be sure, it is a very dif.
ferent thing to see a negro in a picture-book,
and, for the first time in one’s six years’ ex-
perience, to meet him life-size in the accoutre-
ment of a ship’s cook.

Carlino must himself have felt that he was
lacking in courtesy, for he blushed up to the
roots of his hair. In a second he resolutely
approached the dark apparition and held out
his hand.

“ Bress my soul, young gem’man, you ain’t
goin’ to be afeerd of me?” said the cook, grin-
ning all over, and shaking hands with Carlino,
who bowed very solemnly and passed on.



OLD AND NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 83

The boy could not help looking at his hand
to see whether any of the black stuck to it.
Some of the emigrants who were looking on
read his thoughts, and burst out laughing.
Carlino lifted his head. He stopped short;
his face grew ghastly pale. He saw some-
thing that made his blood turn cold. He
thought that his eyes met the dark look of
Mr. Hook-nose.

No, no, it could not be! That man, who
now busied himself with something, so that
his face was hidden, had a big mustache, and
Antonio was closely shaved. This man also
had a big plaster on his forehead over his left
eye. Oh no, impossible! It was only imag-
ination.

Pax—what was the matter with Pax? He
was running off in dismay, his tail between his
legs. Carlino wondered whether the dog also
was afraid of that man. Of course it could
not be Antonio, he looked so different.

False or not, the impression was strong
enough to make Carlino turn back. He
wanted the protection of the kind second
mate.

Alas! the warm heart and the strong arm



84 PAX AND CARLINO.

of his friend would not long be able to guard
him. Three days off the American coast, the
“ Allonia” was caught in a violent gale. One
moment the big vessel was trembling on the
top of a billow, which rose like a steep
mountain of transparent emerald, the next she
went down into the abyss, the white, foamy
crests arching above her, and dashing, with
the roar of thunder, over her deck. One of
these heavy seas threw the mate with such
violence against the capstan that he fell uncon-
scious on the deck. In this state he was placed
in the hospital state-room. Next day he woke
out of his deathlike slumber. The physician
was very hopeful as to his final recovery, but
he was so weak that during the remainder of
the passage nobody was allowed to see him.
However much the unlucky sufferer longed
for his young friend, he was especially anxious
to spare the boy the sad sight of his fright-
fully bruised and mangled face. Besides, he
had no claim on that boy, now on his way to
his parents. Perhaps it might be better that
the separation took place at once, as Provi-
dence seemed to order it.

When Carlino was told by the doctor that



OLD AND NEW ACQUAINTANCES., 85

he could not be allowed to see his kind friend,
he was in despair. He begged in the most im-
petuous manner for admission, in his eagerness
mixing Italian, English, and Swedish words,
and looking so entreatingly out of his blue eyes
that it took all the physician’s sense of his
professional responsibility to withstand such
a petitioner. He had to do so, however, as
he feared it would really do harm to the fever-
ish patient.

The towers and spires of Charleston came
in sight, rising, as by magic, out of the glitter-
ing waves. Soon the whole city, framed in
the luxuriant verdure of the sunny South, ap-
peared swimming, as it were, upon the ocean.
The queen of the forest, the majestic pine,
with its straight trunk shining like gold in the
sunlight, looked out far over the sea, proudly
lifting its round crown against a deep-blue
sky. The palmetto spread its light-green fan
far above the glossy leaves of the magnolia.
Around them were seen the autumnal colors:
the brown, the gold, and the red of the elm,
the ash, and the swamp-maple, whose brilliant
attire was the only reminder that this warm
summer day really was the last day of October.



86 PAX AND CARLINO.

- Carlino, with Pax on his lap, was sitting on
the steps to the captain’s bridge, dreamily
looking at this wonderful sight. Strange
thoughts of anxiety rose in his mind. This
shore did not look at all like the coast around
Stockholm, with its girdle of a thousand isl-
_ ands. These trees—how different from the

_ oaks and the spruce on the heights around his
home! -The city itself, beautiful as it was—
even a child’s eye could not escape its charm
—was so softly flat, so strangely rich in color,
such a perfect contrast to the austere Swedish
capital, built on granite rocks, and guarded by
its reef of many isles. Even before this day
he had had some misgivings as to the ‘“Allo-
nia’s”’ course. But, more or less consciously,
he had not allowed himself to dwell upon
them. Now strange thoughts of anxiety flut-
tered in his mind like startled birds. They
seemed to cry out in despair. Or was it only
the weird cry of the seagull, suddenly diving
in the glittering waters, and then again, with
another plaintive cry, lifting its white wings to
sail far away into the blue ether?

A hand was laid on the boy’s shoulder. It
was the doctor.













Page 86.

”

xX ON HIS LAP.

A

PPE PS

RLINO W

“CAL



OLD AND NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 87

“Flere, my boy, this is for you, from the
second mate,” and he put a small package into
Carlino’s pocket.

‘Me wants to say addio,’’ Carlino burst out.

“No, my boy,” said the physician, “that
will not do. He is too weak. You tell your
folks to write a letter for you to him; that
will please him, and help him to get better.
Your father é

“Never see father, never mother—no pos-
sible,” cried out Carlino, sobbing, and putting
up both hands in despair. ‘This no my land.”

The doctor looked surprised.

“ Well, I know that,” he said; “I know that
you come from another country; but are you
not going to your father and mother? Don’t
they live in America?”

“No, me go home to Sverige. This is not



Sverige.”

“Sverige! I never heard of a country with
that name,” said the doctor, puzzled.

The boy looked at him in utter amazement.
This was beyond his comprehension.

“ This is the address of your father, isn’t it?”
continued the doctor, pointing to the label on
Carlino’s jacket: “‘Carloros, Columbia.”



Full Text




TOO {
Coe est Slama
Oe eo Eee WL
Steeler

TERA OUP EA
CHILD,
fy.




LIBRARY


THE CHILDREN’S LIBRARY.

A CHINA CUP, AND OTHER STORIES.
THE BROWN OWL.

STORIES FROM FAIRYLAND.
TALES FROM THE MABINOGION.
THE STORY OF A PUPPET.

THE LITTLE PRINCESS.

IRISH FAIRY TALES.

AN ENCHANTED GARDEN.

LA BELLE NIVERNAISE.

THE FEATHER.

FINN AND HIS COMPANIONS.
NUTCRACKER AND MOUSE-KING.
THE PENTAMERONE,

_FINNISH LEGENDS.

THE POPE'S MULE,

THE LITTLE GLASS MAN.

THE MAGIC OAK-TREE.
ROBINSON CRUSOE.

PAX AND CARLINO,



(Others in. the Press.)








** WHAT IS MY BOY THINKING ABouT?’” Page 196.
PAX AND CARLINO
A Story

BY

ERNST BECKMAN

ILLUSTRATED BY FLORENCE K. UPTON

LONDON

T. FISHER UNWIN
1894

CHAPTER
I.
II.
III.
IV.
Vv.
VI.
VII.
VIII.
Ix.
XxX,
XI.

XII.

XIII.
XIV.
XV.
XVI.
XVII.
XVIII.
XIX.
XX.
XXII.
XXII.
XXIII.
XXIV,
XXV.

CONTENTS.

A CHUNK OF GOLD ...... ccc cece ee teens
ENTER Mr. HOoOK-NOSE..... Paso ck Sees
An Opp NURSERY . : 7
WHAT THE puRcouAer mouNe Gn Laue
EN STALE coe. ga woos atste sea. so eeaurcece tea etude cca
A RouGH BARBER.........eeee es a

A LIVING PARCEL....... cece eee ee eee eee
WHITHER ? 1... .. cece cece e eee ee eee eeee
OLD AND NEW ACQUAINTANCES ...........
THE WRONG COLUMBIA...... 0 eee ee eee
JEWELS ics sn-cccussariugs pene asi ste ne
GIULIA AND HER TROUPE...... .........
AWAY ! AWAY Vins cee veces cies cae eens
In THE HANDS OF THE POLICE...........
EcHOES FROM THE NORTH.......... 000005
“OLD Doc.” ..... cece eee te eens ee
*T AM YOUR UNCLE,” 2... 0... cece ee eee
TRAMPS AND VAGABONDS .......ceeeee eee
SOSAVE HIM!) 0c 0... ccc ee tee ee ee eene
A LETTER WITH A “‘ POSTFISCUM.”........
TWO SURPRISES. 1.1... ee ee eee ere
UNDER THE MAPLE .... cee cece eee eee nee
B

104
112
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

. PAGE
“*WHAT IS MY BOY THINKING ABOUT ?’”

Frontispiece.
“THE BOY SEEMED TO HAVE CRIED HIMSELF TO

SLEEP.” ...cee eee eee

ee eee eee 29
“THEY SHARED A MEAL OF BREAD AND BISCUITS.” 57
“CARLINO WITH PAX ON HIS LAP.” ..........22--- 86
“ LIFTING HER SKIRT.” .....0 0.000 rans 6 7.1
“THE BOY SAT PERCHED ON THE EDGE.”.......... IVI
IS IT A TRUE STORY?

THAT is the question which will be almost
sure to come to the lips of children who read
about Carlino’s strange adventures.

To this I may answer both yes and no.

TI cannot say that everything has happened
just as I have related it.

On the other hand, facts are often stranger
than fiction, and in this case the very incidents
which seem the most unlikely are really true.

I may add that the story originated in the
experiences of a boy to whom I am, at the
present moment, acting as guardian. |

To him, CARLINO S., and to my own
seven-year-old FREDDY, this little book is
lovingly dedicated.
PAX AND CARLINO.

CHAPTER I.
A CHUNK OF GOLD.

THE martial-looking gendarme that was
leisurely pacing up and down the platform of
the railway-station of the little Italian town
stopped all of asudden. For the second time
within a few minutes he thought he heard a
small voice calling out in a strange language.

The gendarme was a traveled man. He
wore on his breast a bright medal, as a sign
that he was one of the famous thousand that
went with Garibaldi down to Sicily to fight for
the freedom of Italy. In his journeying he
had heard many dialects, but never any like
this. It sounded like Italian, but he was un-
able to understand a single word. Neither
was it English—at least, he had never heard

7
8 PAX AND CARLINO.

any “Ingless” speak that way. What could
it be?

“Madonna mia, what a wonderful lan-
guage!” he muttered to himself.

An almost uncanny feeling crept over him
when he heard that strange voice sound out
on the air in the darkness. It was a plaintive,
childlike voice, that seemed to proceed from
the baggage-room, which was locked up for
the night.

No mistake this time. There was some-
thing mysterious in there among the luggage.

As it was the particular business of the
stately gendarme to look out for the safety of
all those bags and boxes, piled up like mount-
ains along the walls of the room, he immedi-
ately went to the station-master’s window and
knocked.

“TI say, signore, there’s a queer sound in the
baggage-room. It is like a child’s voice—
unless it be a spirit’s. Please come out.”

He had scarcely finished before the dark-
eyed young station-master made his appear-
ance, with a lantern in his hand.

“Come on, Pietro,” he said, yawning. “I
suppose it is my duty to go with you, although
A CHUNK OF GOLD. 90

I am sure there isn’t anything there. I locked
the room myself an hour ago. It is all your
fancy,” he added, smiling. “Such a dark
night, you know.”

He turned the key in the lock, unfastened
the big iron bar, and opened the door. No
sound was heard. The lantern shed its yellow
light over rows upon rows of boxes, all sleep-
ing soundly in the most correct and respect-
able manner.

“Niente, niente, nothing at all,” said the
station-master. ‘“ Halloa, though, what is
that?”

In the narrow space between two American
trunks, that were looming up like two grain
elevators, the light fell upon something that
looked like a big round chunk of solid gold,
as it reflected the rays from the lantern. The
gendarme leaned forward to touch it. It was
not hard and cold like gold, but warm, and
soft like silk.

“Ecco, signore,’’ exclaimed Pietro, “here
is where the music came from. What a jolly
youngster! A whole bush of golden curls!
Sleeping now, you see. Tired out, poor
soul!”
Io PAX AND CARLINO.

And he tenderly lifted a little child from
the floor.

“ A girl?” asked the station-master. |

“Well, upon my honor, I don’t know,”
answered Pietro. ‘ Turn the light on it.”

The strong light fell on a pale, white face.
Two deep-blue eyes opened slowly, and gave
an astonished look at the big mustache that
leaned over them. Just one jerk—and be-
tween the surprised station-master and the
gendarme there stood, erect as a soldier, a
little boy with long golden curls falling down
over his shoulders. He looked from one of
the dark-faced Italians to the other. When
he noticed the three-cornered hat and the
sword of the gendarme, it suddenly seemed to
strike him that he had been lacking in polite-
ness. He drew himself up still straighter than
before, and, soldier fashion, put two fingers of
the right hand up to his blue cap, which he
had hurriedly put on, picking it up from the
floor.

The station-master and the gendarme burst
out laughing. The boy looked reproachfully
at them. He didn’t see anything ridiculous
in the situation at all. However, he fought
A CHUNK OF GOLD. It

manfully to keep back the tears that rose in
the anxious blue eyes, and in his most polite
manner addressed the gendarme.

The two men looked at each other. It was
a very charming, melodious sound that issued
forth between the child’s lips. To understand
it, however, was out of the question. It might
just as well have been the sweet song of a
strange bird.

At last the Italians could not control them-
selves any longer. Once more their merry
laughter rung out over the drowsy boxes in
the baggage-room. They would not have
hurt the child’s feelings if they could have
helped it, but the temptation was irresistible.
Their faces became quite sober when they saw
clear tears trickle down the pale cheeks of the
little stranger. Suddenly he hid his face in
his hands, his whole frame shaking with sup-
pressed sobbing.

A few minutes later he lay sound asleep on
the station-master’s couch, covered by his
great brass-buttoned overcoat. Beside him
stood an empty milk-pitcher and a half-emp-
tied little basket of luscious red grapes.

The station-master sat a good while smok-
12 PAX AND CARLINO,

ing his cigar and musing as to what nation the
little fellow could belong. He had in vain
tried French on him, and also a few words of
English and German, which he happened to
know.

Outside were heard the measured footsteps
of the gendarme, who was slowly pacing up
and down in the dark,
CHAPTER TI.
ENTER MR. HOOK-NOSE.

NEXT morning the little stranger had
scarcely rubbed the sleep out of his eyes when
he found himself lifted on the strong arms of
the gendarme up to the box of a big lumber-
ing stage-coach.

The driver placed the tiny passenger by his
side on the box, where he—driver and_-postil-
ion in one person—was enthroned, as proud
as a king, although he only wore a broad-
brimmed hat of black leather, instead of a
golden crown. The gendarme stepped up,
tucked the apron around his small friend, and
gave him a good kiss from under the black
mustache.

Then he said something to the driver, who
seemed very much amused. Finally he bade
good-by, addressing the boy in Italian, of
course: ‘ Addio, addio, little gold-head.”
14 PAX AND CARLINO.

All that the boy understood was the kiss
and the word “addio.” This was enough to
make him feel very sad. There was the sta-
tion-master also, saluting him in a military
way and smiling good-naturedly.

The driver slung the long lash of his whip
through the air with a crack loud as the report
of a pistol. The five gray horses were startled
out of their musings. They whisked their
tails, snorted, gave a strong pull, and the
heavy coach began to move.

“ Addio, addio!” called out the boy. His
quick ear had caught the Italian pronunciation
of this word. He kissed his hand to the two
men on the steps of the station.

The driver, looking quite astonished, turned
his face toward his curious companion on the
lofty box. Did the boy speak Italian after
all? That “addio” was correct, anyhow.

He decided to bring about an Italian con-
versation with the brave little fellow, who
looked so admiringly at his horses. Once
started, the jolly driver talked one perpetual
stream, while the coach was winding slowly
around the steep hill, on the top of which the
little town was perched like an immense eagle’s
ENTER MR. HOOK-NOSE. 15

nest. Naturally, he only got for an answer
an acknowledging smile from the boyish lips
or a gleam of sunshine in the serious blue
eyes.

Once only the boy ventured to open his
mouth. It seemed to have dawned upon the
driver that the foreign-looking passenger, after
all, did not understand Italian. One thing,
however, he must understand; and, pointing
in turn to each of the horses, the driver
repeated, very slowly, their names. Sure
enough, the boy showed that he caught the
point, for his face lighted up with pleasure.
He evidently did not think the introduction
complete, though, until the horses were also
told his name. Pointing to himself with his
slender forefinger, he slowly repeated several
times, “ Carl Ros.”

The driver hurriedly turned around to the
passengers inside the coach.

“Ladies and gentlemen,’ he exclaimed,
pointing the handle of his whip to the yellow
curls by his side, “the name of gold-head is
Carlorosso, Jolly name, jolly name!”

And he laughed and swung his whip, and
all the passengers—three Italians and a very
16 PAX AND CARLINO.

large English family—laughed also, and ex-
claimed: “Carlorosso! What a funny name!”

Master Carl had not time to find out that
he was the cause of all this merriment, for the
coach was now rolling into the main street of
the town. The wheels rumbled, sparks of fire
flew from the stones under the horses’ hoofs,
the driver cracked his whip furiously, so that
echoes rebounded from one side of the street
to the other, and dogs, chickens, and olive-
skinned urchins were dispersed to all the four
points of the compass. Then came a sudden
stop at the “ Albergo del Sole,” where the big
entrance was prettily adorned with waiters in
white neckties and well guarded by a gilded
portiére, all expecting the arrival of the “ In-
glese.”

Here the passengers alighted, and the por-
ters carried their luggage inside the house.
Both the passengers and the people of the
hotel seemed to have much to say to the
driver. He nodded in a very important man-
ner toward the boy, and several times, in
answer to their questions, straightened himself
up, put two fingers, like a soldier, up to the
brim of his hat, laughed, and repeated the
ENTER MR. HOOK-NOSE. 17

word ‘“Carlorosso, Carlorosso.” Then they
all laughed.

During all this time the innocent subject of
this jollity had no idea whatever that he was
giving the world so much pleasure. He now
and then looked anxiously up into the face of
the swarthy driver, turned to repeat, in his
pretty way, “ Addio, addio,” to the passen-
gers, waving his hand to them when they dis-
appeared into the hotel. At last, with much
hesitation, he proceeded to unfasten the apron,
his questioning blue eyes all the time trying
to attract the attention of the driver.

“No, no, signorino, you keep your seat,”
‘this dignitary exclaimed, rather gruffly, when
he observed the boy’s undertaking. The whip
cracked, the horses started, the coach rolled
along the street, passed the solemn cathedral,
and stopped at the door of an old palace, that
‘looked very much like a prison, although it
had on one side a garden full of late blooming
roses, shaded by live-oaks and olive-trees.

The poor boy must have thought that this
house really was a prison, he looked so scared
and pale.

‘The driver jumped down, and, holding the
c
18 PAX AND CARLINO.

reins with one hand, pulled a knob of a bell
with the other. The boy heard the sound fill
the passage and then die away before the
heavy door was opened, just enough to show
a hooked nose, a couple of jet-black eyes, part
of a black livery, and a low buckled shoe stuck
forward as in a position of defense.

The driver and footman in black talked very
excitedly for some minutes. The boy heard
the word “monsignore”’ repeated again and
again. He somehow got the idea that this
person, “ Mr. Monsignore,” was a very severe
man, who would be much displeased at his
arrival. Finally the footman slammed the
door and left the driver standing on the side-
walk.

In a few moments, however, Mr. Hook-nose
again appeared. This time he opened the
door fully, and, without a word, solemnly
nodded toward the little fellow on the box.
The driver lifted him down and placed him
inside the door, which was banged behind him
by the footman, before he even had time to
say “addio” to his friend of the coachman’s
box.

The grand footman gave the boy a sign to
ENTER MR. HOOK-NOSE. 19

follow, and passed before him through a long
vestibule up a magnificent flight. of stairs,
where old marble statues peeped out myste-
tiously from dark niches in the wall. At the
top of the stairs they entered a lofty gallery
covered from floor to ceiling with pictures in
gilded frames. At the farthest end of this
hall the footman drew aside a heavy red cur-
tain, and pushed the boy into the presence of
monsignore the bishop,
CHAPTER IItf.
AN ODD NURSERY.

THE prelate was sitting at a writing-desk
placed under a large crucifix carved in dark
wood. His head, where, in spite of the own-
er’s fifty-seven years, no trace of gray was
mixed with the black, leaned upon his hand.
He seemed to be deep in thought.

The boy had to wait some minutes before
the bishop looked in his direction. Meanwhile
he had time to come to the conclusion that, in
spite of the violet scarf around his waist, in
spite of the golden cross which glittered where
the long cassock was left unbuttoned, monsig-
nore was not half as imposing a person as his
footman.

Now the bishop looked up. He put on his
eyeglasses and surveyed the stranger. His
guest was in doubt whether to stop at the
door or to advance. At last he made up his
AN ODD NURSERY. 21

mind. He went straight to the prelate, put
out his thin hand, and made a very polite
bow.

He did not attempt to say anything, as he
had found that he was never understood. He
only looked entreatingly up into the bishop’s
face.

Now, monsignore was quite as noted for his
kind heart as he was for his big body, that
towered a full head above the clergy of his
diocese. He looked very much amused, and
immediately buried that little outstretched
hand in one of his own.

“Well, Carlorosso?’’ he said.

The boy shook his head in a sad way, in
order to express that he did not understand
Italian. Then the happy thought struck him.
This much-repeated word “ Carlorosso” was
perhaps meant for his own name.

Pointing, therefore, at himself, he ventured
to say, “ Carl Ros.”

“Si, si, just so,” said the bishop in his turn,
playfully poking him with his big forefinger:
“ Carlorosso, Carlorosso.”

He was just going to try to find out where
the boy hailed from by repeating the names
22 PAX AND CARLINO.

of all the different countries of Europe, when
he suddenly stopped himself.

“Why, how pale you look,” he exclaimed.

He had scarcely uttered these words before
the little stranger began to totter, and, mut-
tering a few words in his own language, sank
on the floor before the bishop had time to get
hold of him.

Looking frightfully scared, the bishop im-
petuously pulled the bell. This called the
solemn footman, who could not keep back a
smile when he saw his huge master with a
strange boy in his arms, holding him in that
awkward way in which inexperienced men
generally take hold of a baby.

“ Quick, fetch Assunta!” the bishop com-
manded.

It seemed an age to the good bishop before
Assunta arrived. She was an old woman who
lived in the porter’s lodge at the back entrance
on the other side of the garden. When she
at last bustled in, she stopped, dumfoundered,
with her hands joined before her, when. she
saw monsignore himself almost as pale as the
pale boy he was carrying to and fro,

“Assunta, the boy is dying in my arms,”
AN ODD NURSERY. 23

the bishop said, the perspiration breaking out
on his forehead.

“No, no, your Highness,” Assunta replied.
“Now, quick, put him down here flat on the
rug. Your Highness don’t know about chil-
dren. I have ten, and many a one of them
has been lying as pale as that little angel—
angelo @' Iddto.”

The boy was laid down on the rug. As-
sunta threw some cold water on to his face,
and bathed his temples with vézaigre, which
Mr. Hook-nose went to fetch with an injured
air, to show that he thought it quite below his
dignity to run errands for a beggar-boy, at
Assunta’s beck and call.

Monsignore had divested himself of his long
cassock, and tried to make himself generally
useful. Most of the time he seemed to be
rather in the way. He was quite grateful
when Assunta asked him to put a cushion on
the sofa.

“ He is coming to now, poor little soul,” she
said. “Pray, your eee do you know
his name?”

“It isa queer name: Carlorosso. Suppose
we call him Carlino,” said the bishop, who
24 PAX AND CARLINO.

was taking off the silver-embroidered cover
from the table in the middle of the room, to
throw it over the boy as a blanket.

Carlino opened his eyes just when it was
put over him. He gave the bishop one grate-
ful look, turned over on his side, and went to
sleep.

The physician who had been sent for looked
also somewhat taken aback when he saw his
Highness in his shirt-sleeves and old Assunta
in her white headgear, both doing duty as
nurses. He ordered the boy to be put to
bed—but where? There was, of course, no
nursery in the episcopal palace.

“Put him in the room outside my bed-
room,” commanded the bishop, who now
regained his composure.

Mr. Hook-nose in vain tried a few remon-
strances. The boy was undressed and put to
bed under the bishop’s own supervision.

“ How thin he is,” said the bishop, address-
ing the physician.

“Quite emaciated. He must have been
starved. Your Highness will have to fatten
your chick,” said the doctor, with a quizzical
look at the monsignore.
AN ODD NURSERY. 25

“Why, he will have to have some new
clothes, too,” said the bishop. “ This curly
head looks quite like some unnatural growth
sticking out of that dirty cotton jacket. An-
tonio,’ he said, turning to Mr. Hook-nose,
“you take his jacket and trousers and go down
to the Pacci’s in the arcade and tell them to
send up a warmer suit of the same size.”

Hook-nose looked at his master as though
he doubted whether he were quite right in his
mind. He thought best, however, to obey.

The bishop and the doctor left the room,
where Assunta stayed to watch. She crossed
herself and took out her rosary. Before she
began to say her prayers, she looked at the
sleeping boy, shook her head, and repeated:
“Poor little angel—angelo a’ lidio.”
CHAPTER IV.
WHAT THE BURGOMASTER FOUND OUT.

THE bishop retired to his room and wrote a
note to the burgomaster, “il sindaco,” asking
him to find out all he could about “the quaint
living package which the station-master had
been pleased to send him, without even asking
his permission.”

Two days later the fat, jocose burgomaster
called in person to report the results of his in-
vestigations.

“Well, your Highness,” he said, rubbing
his hands and making a very low bow, “ you
have to pay the penalty for being too good.
You have spoiled us, and now you see the
result. You have fallen a prey to that out-
landish little fellow, whose yellow curls seem
to have enthralled both the civil and ecclesias-
tical authorities in the persons of Pietro the
THE BURGOMASTER TRIES. 27

gendarme, and of your most reverend High-
ness yourself.”

“ All right, all right, my dear burgomaster,”
interrupted the bishop; ‘“‘ but what have you
found out about that outlandish little fellow,
as you call him?”

“Well, monsignore, upon my word it looks
like the beginning of a most extraordinary
story. The guard thought he remembered
that your gold-head took the train at the first
little station this side of Florence. I immedi-
ately telegraphed to the chief of police in that
city. This morning the postman brought this
letter. Perhaps your Highness will allow me
to read it to you?”

“ By all means,” said the bishop.

The burgomaster with an air of great im-
portance took the letter out of the envelope,
adorned with the armorial bearings of the city
of Florence. He cleared his throat, as a dig-
nified burgomaster ought to do, and read:

“ FIRENZE, October 3d.
“My DEAR SINDACO: The very same hour
that I received your Honor’s most esteemed
telegram, I gave strict orders to the force to do
28 PAX AND CARLINO.

everything in their power to throw some light
upon the parentage, nationality, etc., of the
protégé of yourself and his Highness, the most
distinguished Lord Bishop of your diocese.
Happily, the subject of these researches turned
out to be well known by the officers in the
north district, on account of his long golden
curls, which have attracted a good deal of at-
tention. It seems that ten days ago a dark,
middle-aged lady rented a small uninhabited
villa—Villa Saldoni—just outside the city
limits. She was dressed in English fashion,
but looked like an Italian. She also spoke
our language, although with a strange accent,
as if she might have been living many years
in foreign parts, possibly in England or in
America. Having paid the rent for a fort-
night in advance, she returned to the railway
station, where it appears that she had left the
boy alone on the platform with her luggage.
The boy was spoken to by the guard at the
station, but evidently did not understand Ital-
ian. The woman then drove over to the villa
in cab 163, the boy, as the driver noticed,
shivering in his thin summer clothes (a couple
of days in that week, as your Honor will re-




.

“THE BOY SEEMED TO HAVE CRIED HIMSELF TO SLEEP. Page 20.
THE BURGOMASTER TRIES. 29

member, being real autumn days, and unprec-
edentedly cold).

“The day after her arrival the neighbors
found that she left the boy the whole day all
by himself locked up in the house. This was
repeated several days in succession. When
the child was heard crying as if in distress, an
old lawyer, Signor Sonzogno, who lives oppo-
site the villa, went and looked in through the
windows. He beheld a pitiful sight: in the
damp, cold kitchen the little boy and a small
dachshund were fastened to the stove with the
same chain. The boy seemed to have cried
himself to sleep on the bare stone floor. By
him there were a jug of water and a crust of
brown bread. While the lawyer was still lool-
ing through the window, the woman happened
to come home. She went directly to him,
sharply asking, ‘What are you doing in this
place, sir?’ ‘Well, madam,’ he retorted, ‘I
will tell you that when you tell me what you
are doing with that poor boy chained up like
awild animal in a menagerie.’ ‘What am I
doing?’ she answered, giving the man a spite-
ful look. ‘I want to give that boy a good
education. Had he stayed with his parents,
30 PAX AND CARLINO.

they would have made him one of those effem-
inate milksops. I will give him a good Spar-
tan education. I will keep him with me, and
when he grows up he will be my courrier de
voyage.’ Signor S., exasperated at this effront-
ery, in leaving the premises said to the
woman, ‘It is a stolen child. I know it is.
What nonsense about your Spartan education!
I will see about this. I shall go this very
minute to notify the police. The woman
laughed scornfully.

“Of course, in telling her beforehand that
he was going to inform the authorities, Signor
S., although generally a very cautious man,
no doubt as you, my honored colleague, will
perceive, committed an imprudence. When
one of my constables arrived there, the woman,
probably frightened by this threat, had already
left our city. We have, of course, not had
any special reason further to look into this
matter until we received your favor of the Ist
instant. No doubt my supposition is right
that she thought it safest to get rid of the
boy, and managed to do so by smuggling him
into the left-luggage office at your station.

“T remain, yours, etc.,
“TL SINDACO,”
THE BURGOMASTER TRIES. 31

The reading finished, the burgomaster
handed the letter to the bishop.

“Your Highness may keep it. It contains
most valuable information in a most interest-
ing case.”

“Tt would be more valuable if it gave you
any idea where to catch that woman,” said the
bishop, rather curtly.

“Well, what would you do with that woman
even if you could catch her?” asked the bur-
gomaster, nettled. ‘‘ Would you give the boy
a blessing and send him back to that lady’s
loving, motherly bosom and Spartan educa-
tion? No doubt she is one of those tender
souls that travel around Europe to get hold of
little ones suitable for the noble calling of cir-
cus-riding or organ-grinding.”’

“My dear sindaco,” said the bishop, good-
humoredly, “pray don’t lose your temper.
You have done everything you could. You
are also right about the woman. I only wish
the letter had given some clue as to the nation-
ality of the boy.”

“ Monsignore,” said the burgomaster, his
round face flushed with anticipation of certain
success, “I am sure I can find that out for you
in less than two minutes, if I am only brought
32 PAX AND CARLINO.

face to face with your little canary bird. I
have not been a lawyer for twenty years for
nothing.”

An almost imperceptible smile lingered
around the firm mouth of the bishop, when he
touched a bell and told Antonio to ask As-
sunta whether she thought Carlino strong
enough to come for a few minutes into the
library.

Antonio sniffed with his hooked nose as
soon as the shut door hid this important
member from his master’s eye. He muttered
something about “absurd fussing,” but re-
turned, nevertheless, presently with the boy,
whose. deathly pale cheeks were tinged with
a delicate flush of rose color at the sight of the
strange gentleman.

Carlino made his most polite bow, and prof-
fered his hand, first to the bishop and then to
his guest.

“Well, Carlino,” began the latter, placing
the boy between his knees, “just tell me one
thing, just one thing. What country do you
come from?”

The jolly sindaco must have grown quite
absent-minded by looking into the sorrowful,
THE BURGOMASTER TRIES. 33

dreamy blue eyes of that boy, for he was say-
ing this in Italian. The boy looked helplessly
from the burgomaster to the bishop. To the
bishop’s lips came back the same almost im-
perceptible smile as before.

“Per Bacco, I forgot!” exclaimed the sin-
daco, disconcerted. ‘I remember now I was
told that he don’t understand Italian.”

He repeated the question, this time in very
poor English. The same result.

Then he tried German of the same quality.
“ He must be German,” he said, turning to the
bishop. All in vain.

The burgomaster looked puzzled. He raised
his voice, he asked over and over again, at
last roaring so that his face became red all
over.

“Why, the boy is deaf, monsignore,” he
exclaimed, looking in despair to the bishop.
To his utter amazement he now observed that
this high dignitary of the church had fallen
into a fit of laughter so violent that he could
scarcely keep his seat.

Carlino had felt his heart sink in his bosom
during the noisy questioning of the strange
gentleman. Looking up, he saw the bishop’s

D
34. PAX AND CARLINO.

hilarity. He smiled through his tears, and the
next second he joined in with a silvery peal of
laughter.

This merriment proved so contagious that
in a moment the burgomaster, altogether for-
getting his dignity, was fairly roaring. His
rotund body shook, he clapped his thighs with
his hands, in the midst of these paroxysms
calling out to the bishop:

“ Well—you—see—I—got—him—-at—last.
This is the—univer—sal—language.” It is
doubtful whether the bishop’s library ever
witnessed such a jolly scene. Quiet finally
restored, the burgomaster said: “ Now I will
try another method.”

Striving to make his whole person look like
a most expressive sign of interrogation, he
slowly repeated to Carlino in Italian, English,
French, and German the names of the different
countries of Europe, from Italy up to the far
north.

“Well, you have hit upon my plan. I was
just going to try that when the boy fainted,”
said the bishop.

The sindaco was too eager to be interrupted.
He went on with his polyglot geography. He
THE BURGOMASTER TRIES. 38

rather stumbled and hesitated when he came
to the less known of the northern countries.

Poor Carlino could only shake his head.
How could he know that Svezia, or Sweden,
or Suéde, or Schweden meant the country
which his child-heart already loved under the
very differently sounding name of Sverige ?

Just as little could the bishop or the sindaco
know that his longing thoughts were flying
like birds of passage northward to a pine-
shaded home, mirrored in the blue waters of
Lake Meelar.

Had the two Italians known the Swedish
colors, perhaps through some association of
ideas they would have been led to think of
Carlino’s country, as he stood there with the
yellow curls falling down on the due velvet
jacket, in which the bishop had been pleased
to dress his unexpected guest. They prob-
ably did not, and therefore the burgomaster,
playfully pinching Carlino’s ear, bade him
“addio,” and left the episcopal palace, if not
exactly a sadder, at least a wiser and less con-
ceited, man.
CHAPTER V.
IN STATE.

NEXT night Carlino had a strange dream.
In Sweden the spelling-books are adorned
with the picture of a cock, as a symbol of early
rising. One of the most magnificent of these
learned birds is found in the A BC book of
-Charles XIJ. This very cock, with its golden
royal crown, stepped bodily out of the first
page and began to examine Carlino. When
he did not know his lesson, the cock grew very
angry; it crowed in a higher and higher pitch,
bobbing its head so that the golden crown
rolled off the red comb. Carlino stooped
down to pick it up. When he looked up
again, lo! there was the cock changed into the
‘fat sindaco, looking so fierce that the boy
woke, sobbing, in a sudden fright. How he
wished that he were back at home with his

36
IN STATE, 37

parents, and could throw his arms around his
mother’s neck!

Involuntarily he stretched out his arms and
threw them around the neck of the bishop,
who that very moment was leaning over the
bed. Bachelor as he was, the prelate was
looking at the boy as tenderly as a father
might look at his first-born child.

“Carlino, Carlino mio, my little Carlino,
why do you cry?” said the bishop, soothingly.

The boy forgot all his fears, gave monsig-
nore a kiss, and threw himself back on the
pillows, a playful smile breaking through the
tears. .

The bishop made him understand that he
had better get up. Antonio brought his shoes,
and after a hasty breakfast he went, holding
the bishop’s hand, down to the entrance, where
the episcopal carriage was waiting. The bish-
op put the boy beside him in the carriage.

“To the station,’ he said to Hook-nose,
who shut the carriage-door and jumped up by
the footman.

That day people took a greater interest than
usual in the bishop’s well-known olive-green
carriage, drawn by the two black horses, whose
38 PAX AND CARLINO.

flowing tails, according to the fashion among
the horses of Italian church aristocracy, reached
almost to the ground. The object of this
special interest was a small white face lighted
by the great blue eyes, that peeped out of a
frame of golden curls. It formed a strong
contrast to the dark figure of the bishop and
the somber color of the whole equipage.

They soon turned from the main street
down into the winding road. The landscape
below their feet looked like a sea of undulating
hills, the most distant, blue, the nearer, green,
and flecked by olive-trees, all dotted with
churches and villas like white flowers. Far
away in the misty distance rose the snow-clad
tops of the Apennines. The sight of the
snow, an old acquaintance to the bewildered
little stranger, made him call out in his own
language. The bishop thought it sounded
half joy, half sorrow.

When the carriage stopped at the station,
Carlino had the pleasure of speaking to his old
friends, the gendarme and the station-master.
There was not much time, however, for the
whistle of the coming train already swept over
IN STATE. 39

the valley. Carlino went with the bishop out
on to the platform. He had long ago ceased
to wonder at anything that happened, the
last two months having been so full of strange
events. He thought this sudden trip quite
natural, and, under the circumstances, rather
pleasant, as he was to accompany his kind
friend the bishop.

Great was his dismay when monsignore said,
““ Addio, Carlino,” and stepped alone into the
railway-carriage.

“Be good to gold-head, Antonio. Iwill be
back in a week,” said the bishop to the foot-
man. The station-master gave the signal, the
sad shriek of the locomotive sounded far over
the country, off went the train, and there
stood by the side of Mr. Hook-nose a boy
whose heart that moment felt more lonely than
it is possible for grown-up people to under-
stand. Brave as he was, he cried and hid his
face in his hands, just as he had done when he
was found in the luggage-room of this very
station a few days before.

His kind friends of that day could not com-
fort him now, for his new friend Mr. Hook-
40 PAX AND CARLINO.

nose bustled him in a hurry into the bishop’s
carriage, slamming the door in an ominous
manner.

So it came about that gold-head, in grand
state, with a pair of horses and a footman, was
riding through the town all by himself in the
episcopal carriage.
CHAPTER VI.
A ROUGH BARBER.

ALAS! the grandeur of riding like a grown-
up géntleman in the bishop’s coupé did not
bring any comfort to the lonely soul which
enjoyed this great privilege.

The boy’s heart was filled with dark fore-
bodings. These half unconscious fears were
not dispersed by the looks of Antonio. There
is a way of saying hard things only with looks.
Mr. Hook-nose knew this art to perfection.
His dark eyes, from the very first moment
they rested upon the child, had plainly shown
their natural aversion to the honest blue eyes
of the Swedish boy.

From day to day Carlino now had the op-
portunity of seeing that Antonio was “ as good
as his looks.” That individual considered
cruelty to animals a very amusing and in-
nocent pastime. Freed from the restraint
42 PAX AND CARLINO.

caused by the bishop’s presence, he proved
more and more that he looked upon a foreign
boy as a good substitute for a donkey or a
bird. Of course he did not dare to beat or
kick Carlino. He only bullied him, and
pricked him with invisible pins and needles.
He laughed mockingly at him; he clinched his
fist before his face; he pretended to trip him
up with his foot. When serving Carlino’s
dinner, if the cook had put on the tray some
delicacy, like an extra fine peach or a “ zuppa
Inglese ” Antonio deliberately took it and ate
it before the boy’s eyes.

One day, when Carlino happened to go into
the bishop’s library, Antonio was burying his
hooked nose deep in a desk where the bishop
kept some of his valuables. The boy, who
wanted to get his cap, which he had left in the
room, innocently went to take it from the table
close to the desk. Antonio started, shut the
drawer, hid the key in his pocket, and, pale
with rage, caught the boy by the long curls.
With the free hand he took a pair of scissors
from the writing-table, and in a second there
fell on the carpet something like golden clus-
ters of acacia. One more cut of the scissors,
A ROUGH BARBER. 43

and the remaining curls shared the same
fate.

Now Carlino, in fact, had often wished to
get rid of his curls. It had happened more
than once on their account that he had been
taken for a girl. Now he felt very differently.
His whole being rebelled against this summary
performance by a person who had absolutely
no right over him. His surprise and indigna-
tion were too deep for words. When the curls
had fallen and his head was loosened from the
grip of Mr. Hook-nose, he did not utter a
sound. He simply turned around and gave
his tormentor a look of calm defiance. The
only sign of emotion was a trembling around
his lips. Then with an air of decision he went
off to his room.

It may have been the unexpectedness of the
boy’s behavior, or fear for the consequences of
an act which it would be difficult to explain;
at all events, Antonio soon seemed to regret the
outcome of his hasty mood. When he brought
the boy’s dinner he wore a most friendly face.
He even condescended with his own hands to
put the best piece of a fowl on his plate.

In the kitchen Mr. Hook-nose reported that
44 PAX AND CARLINO.

monsignore had ordered him “to crop the
youngster,” as he was to be put in the Choir-
boys’ School, and there, of course, “it would
be out of tune to keep such an elegant head-
gear as that.”
CHAPTER VIL
PAX.

A poor little four-legged creature was
moving slowly along the dusty road leading
from the railway-station up to the town. It
was a hungry-looking dog, a black dachshund
with pointed nose—one of those queer, short-
legged animals upon whom nature certainly
might have bestowed an extra pair of legs in
the middle, in order to support a body which
seems decidedly too long.

It was plain that the dog either was a stray
dog, without any master, or else was running
away without leave. Most likely the latter,
for he evidently had not a clear conscience.
He had a scared look when he met anybody,
man or beast. On,.such occasions his tail
dropped between his legs, and he cautiously
made a wide sweep, glancing sideways from
out his wise eyes, which looked very dark

45
46 PAX AND CARLINO.

under the light-brown spots that gave his
whole face a wild expression.

The dachshund, no doubt, had had a sad
experience of life. He did not trust man, nor
even his own kind. When he arrived in town
his whole behavior seemed, even more than
before, to express a humble apology for his
bare existence. When he met a dog in better
circumstances, he looked so humble that he
generally succeeded in escaping notice. Once
only an elegant greyhound made a dash at
him, but merely to turn proudly away, as a
closer inspection revealed his poverty-stricken
air.

This event served to quicken the pace of
our splayfooted friend. He waddled briskly
along on his crooked legs, led by his keen
scent. Without much hesitation he went
straight to his goal, which turned out to be
the episcopal palace. There he sniffed about
with a set expression, turned round the corner,
and ran at his fastest speed to the garden
entrance by the porter’s lodge. Standing up
on his hind legs, he looked between the iron
railings and gave a joyous bark. Here was
what he had been seeking through weary days
PAX. AT

and nights, running many miles along the rail-
way track or upon unknown roads. There in
the garden he beheld his friend and fellow-
traveler—indeed, he might say fellow-sufferer,
as the boy more than once had shared his own
chain.

He, the dachshund, had at first looked sus-
piciously upon this youngster, that so unex-
pectedly appeared in his mistress’s cabin when
the steamer at Cologne started up the Rhine.
Soon, however, he persuaded himself that the
boy was just as kind toward dogs as he was
lonely and sad. He therefore made up his
mind to bestow his friendship and protection
on the intruder.

To this decision he stuck faithfully, and he
had no reason to regret it. Many a time he
had received from that two-legged creature a
goodly share of its scant allowance of bread,
and often he had been sheltered from the
dampness of a bare stone floor by the loan of
its jacket.

Great was his sorrow and anxiety when he
missed the boy. He had noticed that their
mistress took him out at one station and then
came back alone. He very soon made up his
48 PAX AND CARLINO.

mind to start upon a search for his lost com-
panion.

Now he had found him. There he stood
by a rose-bush in the garden. Forgotten was
the weariness of the long tramp, forgotten the
fact that he had left a place disagreeable, no
doubt, in certain respects, but where he was
at least sure of his frugal daily bread. In his
joy he wagged his sleek round tail, he jumped
up at the railings, he barked and whined alter-
nately.

Finally he succeeded in attracting Carlino’s
attention.

There he comes—is running down the walk;
now he opens the gate, and the next second
he is sitting down on a carpet of red and yel-
low autumn leaves, caressing the dachshund,
who is licking his hands and face, and in its
eagerness rubbing off all the dust from its
glossy black skin on to the boy’s blue velvet
jacket.

At last the dog quietly nestled down in the
lap of his friend, who seemed to think that he
understood Swedish.

“Well, Pax, my little doggie,” he said in
his own language, “how thin you are! Now
PAX, 49

we'll run away, won’t we? You will help me
to find my parents. Hush! hush! don’t let
on to that black man coming down there.”
Pax looked intelligently up into the boy’s
face, as if he understood every word. His
natural temper, however, got the better of
him when his attention was drawn to Mr.
Hook-nose. He turned his head, pricked up
his ears, and, barking furiously, flew at the
black stockings. Poor fellow! he forgot that
when he started on his adventurous trip he
had chosen as his guide and watchword the
wise old saying “ Discretion is the better part
of valor.” He was hurled back by a violent
kick, which sent him flying off into the grass.
Luckily for him, through the fierceness of his
attack the shoe had dropped off Antonio’s big
foot. Now he was only enough hurt to be
willing to obey the boy’s call and withdraw
from the fight. Carlino did not, however,
succeed in shielding his friend from a cruel
whipping. When Hook-nose with a stick was
dealing heavy blows at the dog, Carlino made
a dash at him with clinched fists, and pum-
meled him with all his might and main. Alas!

his effort had no other effect than the man
EK
50 PAX AND CARLINO,

shaking himself free as a bulldog might shake
off a tiny cur. Antonio did not even strike
the boy, as the latter expected he would. As
soon as Pax was sent howling with pain into
a dark corner of the garden, Hook-nose only
laughed scornfully, and thereupon slowly
sauntered away, his hands in his trousers’
pockets. He looked very well contented with
himself, whistling cheerfully, as though he
were sure that this time he had behaved like
a real gentleman, a very good and forgiving
gentleman, not revenging himself, only using
his manly superiority for self-defense.
CHAPTER VIII.
P.. B.C.

CARLINO, pale with indignation, followed
with his eye the retreating form of Mr. Hook-
nose passing slowly along, until it disappeared
in the darkness as a part of darkness itself.
Having heard at last the sound. of his steps
clattering on the stairs leading to the servants’
hall, the boy ventured to stir. He crept into
the bushes, and, with a low whistle, called for
his friend. The poor dog came limping along,
looking so frightened and sad out of his mild
eyes that Carlino felt ready to cry. There was
no time, however, for tears. He put his pocket-
handkerchief down on the ground, and told Pax
to watch it, being sure that this faithful creature
would be found on the same spot when he
came back. He then hurried stealthily into
his room, filled his pocket and a handkerchief
with bread and biscuits, which for some days

51
52 LAX AND CARLINO.

he had secreted in a drawer, instead of eating
them with his meals. Ever since his advent-
ure with Antonio in the bishop’s library he
had made up his mind to run away. He
would try to get home, whatever might hap-
pen. He felt sure that now was the time to
start. Had not Pax come on purpose to be
his traveling companion?

He was just leaving the room, when he
turned back once more. He thought of the
kind bishop. If he only could leave some-
thing in the bishop’s room to show him how
grateful he was! He felt in his pockets; ex-
cept the biscuits, he had nothing but a knife
and a leather folding-cup. Both these things
he badly needed for his journey. He was
just going to give up his plan, when his eyes
fell upon a pair of his stockings left on a chair.
He immediately took one of them, went into
the bishop’s bedroom, and tucked it under the
blanket in the bed. It somehow seemed to
him that this odd visiting-card was better than
nothing. This done, he stole cautiously along
the passage, and, unnoticed, reached the gar-
den. Next minute he and Pax had left the
episcopal premises.
PPC 53

At half-past nine—about an hour after their
flight—the bell of the palace was rung in a
very imperative manner.

Mr. Hook-nose, who answered the bell, was
very much surprised, and even startled, to see
the jolly face of the fat sindaco, who, panting
with the exertion of rapid walking, very eag-
erly proceeded to communicate the contents
of a letter received from the bishop.

The letter ran as follows:

“ ROME, October 7th.

“My DEAR SINDACO: Imagine how pleased
I was yesterday to have from a friend some-
thing that surely concerns our gold-head. My
friend was invited to dine with the Swedish
ambassador. That gentleman happened to say
that he had read in the Swedish papers about
a very well known Swede and his wife who in
a mysterious manner had lost their only child,
a boy six years of age. They stayed over
night at Cologne, and next morning the boy,
who had been playing in the hotel garden by
the river, was nowhere to be found. It was be-
lieved that he had been drowned, as his straw
hat was found in the river. The distressed
54 PAX AND CARLINO.

parents decided to spend some weeks on the
Rhine. a Swedish painter, who told them about his
having noticed on the train between Milan and
Florence a most picturesque little fellow, who
formed a striking contrast to the dark Italian
children. His eyes were deep blue, and long
golden curls fell to his shoulders. ‘7hat zs
my boy!’ immediately exclaimed the lady,
to the great astonishment of the painter,
who never had heard about their child being
lost.

“T need not tell you, my dear sindaco, that
my friend had scarcely finished before I hurried
to the house of the Swedish ambassador, who
looked rather astonished at being called upon
by a Roman Catholic bishop, but, nevertheless,
received me most courteously. He was very
much interested in my account of our protégé,
and we decided that the boy ought immedi-
ately to be sent to the Swedish embassy. May
Task you kindly to see about his being put on
the night train so that he can be here in the
morning ?

“Yours, etc,”
PPC, 5s

The sindaco, having in few words told An-
- tonio the contents of the above letter, asked
him to get the boy ready immediately.

“T will go with him myself,” he added, with
his look of official importance.

Mr. Hook-nose actually, in spite of his grand
manners, looked thrown off his balance. He
was revolving in his mind the possibilities of
explaining to the burgomaster the sudden dis-
appearance of gold-head’s golden curls. He
had much on his conscience just now, and did
not like the authorities to look into his game.
It was a relief to him when he came back to
be able to say Carlino was not to be found in
the house nor in the garden.

“ He can’t be far away, sir,’ he added, put-
ting on an unconcerned air. “I saw him in
the garden not long ago. He certainly will
be back in a little while.”
CHAPTER IX.
THE ARTIFICIAL CRIPPLE.

Pax looked upon four legs as a sure sign of
superiority over a two-legged companion—at
least as far as walking was concerned. From
the very outset he took the command, and
led the trotting just in advance of Carlino.
Strange to say, he did not seem to have any
hesitation as to the road. It almost looked as
though he had been over the country before
and planned the route in detail.

On the whole, the two friends were of good
cheer. They plodded along in the dark. Pax
especially was in the happy humor that always
follows success. The whole maneuver was a
triumph for his sagacity and his superior scent,
in which he, however personally unassuming,
placed a very decided family pride.

As for Carlino, he had, like many a Swedish
boy, a love of adventure that learned men
have tried to prove an heirloom from the old

56


“THEY SHARED A MEAL OF BE



Db AND biscurrs.” Page 57.
THE ARTIFICIAL CRIPPLE. 57

Vikings. It was this same adventurous spirit,
coupled with an unbounded confidence in his
fellow-creatures, that had led him to accept at
Cologne the invitation, given in the universal
language of signs, of an unknown lady—an
invitation to enjoy a meal of raisins and apri-
cots in the cabin on board the steamer.

Sure enough, the sad outcome of this visit,
as well as the last days’ intercourse with Mr.
Hook-nose, had somewhat ruffled Carlino’s op-
timistic view of humankind. -

If he had been older he might perhaps have
spoken his mind in the words of the philoso-
pher who said, “The better I learn to know
man, the better I love dogs.” Happily, he
was too hopeful yet for such pessimism. Ex-
hilarated by the tramp, and homeward bound,
as he thought, he cheerfully followed the par-
ticular dog that he loved, and left mankind
out of account.

Having walked for about three hours, the
two travelers stopped in the shelter of a big
walnut-tree. There they shared a meal of
bread and biscuits out of the provision that
Carlino had brought with him. This agreeable
occupation soon coming to an end, Pax had the
58 PAX AND CARLINO.

good sense immediately to start afresh. The
boy would have liked a great deal better to
lie down then and there for a nap, in spite of
the chill night air; but he was unwilling to
acknowledge himself tired before such a little
fellow as Pax, so they trudged on.

The night grew darker and darker. The
stars, that hung like glistening lamps from the
vast deep-blue cupola over their heads, were
by and by covered with clouds, sailing like
huge black vessels before a wind that blew
harder every minute. Soon a heavy rain be-
gan to fall, in big, cold drops. It was not
long before the two companions had not a dry
thread on their backs—be it said without lack
of respect for Mr. Pax’s glossy black fur coat.
The boy tried manfully to bear both the rain
and the cold as best he could. “ Father likes
me to be brave,” he said to himself. But he
could not help shedding tears as he thought
of his home with the snug white bed, and of
his mother, coming every night, as long as he
could remember, to hear his evening prayer,
and give him his good-night kiss.

The worst of it all was an overwhelming
sleepiness that was creeping over him. He
THE ARTIFICIAL CRIPPLE. 59

actually almost slept walking. Pax looked
back anxiously when the boy reeled from one
side of the road to the other. The dog grew
still more alarmed when his sharp ears heard
the dull sound of hoofs coming closer and
closer upon them. Suddenly there was a
thump, Carlino tumbled headlong on the road,
Pax gave a distressed bark, and the strong
voice of a man was heard calling out, ““ Whoa,
Rosina!” The rider got down, lit the candle
of a small lantern, which barely gave light
enough to reveal Carlino as he crawled out of
the mud, unhurt, from under the legs of a
long-eared donkey answering to the poetical
name of Rosina.

Luckily for him, that worthy soul, with the
remarkable common sense of her much ma-
ligned race, had stopped as if rooted to the
ground, in order not to hurt the boy whom
she had inadvertently upset. The wise crea-
ture whisked her long ears, turned her rugged
head, and bestowed one half-humorous glance
upon the victim, as if measuring his size and
his weight. She seenfed rather set at ease
when she saw that it was a small and thin boy.
She no doubt inferred that her master, as
60 PAX AND CARLINO.

“damages” due to the boy, would invite him
to take a ride.

So he did. He lifted Carlino up, and placed
him in a big basket hanging on one side of the
patient Rosina. The corresponding basket on
the other side was already occupied by a sleep-
ing Italian youngster just as dark as the little
Swede was fair. Behind the saddle, on the
top of a haystack, were fastened two small
crutches, a guitar, a violin, a tambourine, and
a flute. The man having mounted, the won-
derful Rosina carried the whole caravan all by
herself. Pax formed the rear-guard.

Carlino soon went to sleep. He was waked
_ by the hot rays of the sun literally scorching
his neck. Rosina’s master was walking by
the roadside. He was a tall man with a big
black beard. On his head he wore a coni-
cal felt hat adorned with red tassels. His
stately body was clad in red waistcoat, blue
jacket, knickerbockers of yellow leather, and
broad sandals bound with blue ribbons. The
little Italian boy, who was running ahead, gam-
boling with Pax, wore the same garb in minia-
ture. The father gave a sharp whistle, which
called the boy back. Rosina halted, and, to
THE ARTIFICIAL CRIPPLE. 61

the astonishment of Carlino, the man took
down the crutches and hooked up one of the
legs of the boy, who hobbled along, putting
on a serious face. The boy being now in full
uniform, ready for action, his father went to
assist Rosina in her toilet. He decorated her
head with a gorgeous tuft of cock’s feathers
standing up between her long ears. Then he
attached around her belly a string of prettily
jingling brass bells fastened to a piece of fur.

“Why, the chap is awake!” the man mut-
tered, when he noticed Carlino, who was look-
ing intently at him out of his hanging bed.
He lifted him down, and, pulling out some
bread and cheese from the depth of the basket
where Carlino had spent the night, he gave
the whole troupe a square meal; for dessert,
Pax and the little Italian, Giacomo by name,
had the last episcopal biscuits out of Carlino’s
pocket.

Of course Rosina was not included in the
treat. She had to look out for herself, accord-
ing to the Italian rule that “an ass ought to
feed on nothing.” She bore her fate with a
resigned air, browsing a few mouthfuls of
dusty thistles from the roadside.
62 PAX AND CARLINO.

When they had finished their breakfast, the
man hung the guitar by its faded red ribbon
over his shoulder, and thrust the tambourine
into the hands of the astonished Carlino, who
looked quite changed in his begrimed suit,
with his unwashed face, deprived of its set-
ting of yellow curls. After all, tambourine in
hand, he did not seem very much out of place
as a member of a troupe of wandering musi-
cians.

The procession moved on, and a funny pro-
cession it was. At the head, the man, with
his grave face, playing his guitar and singing
a jolly song at the top of his voice; then
Rosina with her baskets, pompously nodding
her wise head, her bells dingling their merry
accompaniment; behind her, the youngsters,
Carlino already knocking the tambourine in a
manner that promised very well for a future
artistic career, and Giacomo, the artificial crip-
ple, showing to the astonished, barking Pax
his cleverness in throwing one of his crutches
high in the air and catching it again.
CHAPTER X.
A LIVING PARCEL.

THE road made a sharp turn by the gray
wall of a vineyard. Two brawny women were
coming down the steps leading to the road.
They were balancing on their heads low bas-
kets with grapes, some of the bunches lolling
over the edge almost to their shoulders. They
both stopped to look at the procession, which
ascended the hill toward a large stone house,
an old palace, or rather part of a palace, one
half being in ruins, its broken walls and ar-
cades covered with ivy. The other half was
used as a common abode for the farmer, his
mules, his pair of spotless gray oxen, his -
chickens, and his children. The musician went
to the door, overhung by heavy ears of bright
yellow corn, took off his hat, and asked a
question. The answer evidently was agree-
able, for, with a very contented air, he marched
his troop along past the house, singing:

63
64. PAX AND CARLINO.

“* How sweetly sounds thy guitar,
O orange flower!
But sweeter than the rest by far,
O orange flower,
That little string, the last dear string,
Where love and dance together sing.”

When they reached the small open yard on
the other side of the house, Carlino stopped
short in astonishment at the sight before him.

On the top of a wall, overlooking the valley,
there were placed three large stone vats,
heaped full of grapes, red, blue, and white.
To the sound of a clarionet, young men, their
heads crowned with vine-leaves, their legs bare
up to the thighs, were merrily dancing on the
bed of grapes.

The performer on the clarionet stopped
playing as soon as he caught sight of the well-
known musician. The dancers also stopped
dancing, and from their lips, as well as from
those of the bystanders, went up one shout of
joy, saluting the “artista.”’ When the musi-
cian had finished the song he was singing, he
put his guitar in its place on Rosina’s back,
took down the violin, stayed his little cripple
against the wall with a flute before his mouth,
A LIVING PARCEL. 65

and so the dance began with renewed vigor.
The bleeding grapes spurted their purple jets
around the dancers’ naked feet, the juice
sprinkled their sunburned faces, their black
hair was bedewed by the mist of wine. When
one pair of dancers were tired, they were re-
lieved by others. New pails of grapes were
emptied into the vats, when their contents
were well pressed down, the juice all the
time, like a reddish brook, trickling down into
wooden butts below.

The lively music attracted the people from
the village, distant but astone’s-throw. When
the musician thought his audience well warmed
by song and music, he made signs to Carlino
to take up a collection in the tambourine.
Far from objecting, Carlino enjoyed his new
dignity very much. Every time a greasy
soldo danced on the yellowish skin of his tam-
bourine, he saluted, soldier fashion, touching
his cap with two fingers. When he had gone
the round, he handed the tambourine to the
musician with a profound bow.

“O bellino! O carino!” ‘How sweet he
is! What a darling!” the women exclaimed,

laughing so that their white teeth gleamed in
F
66 PAX AND CARLINO.

the sun, to vie with their golden ear-rings,
which swung lustily when they moved their
heads to and fro, repeating their “ bellino,
carino.”’

In the middle of the. day there was a pause,
all the helpers in the vintage being treated to
a good dinner of polenta and bacon, with
wine.

All having rested until the day was some-
what cooler, dancers, musicians, and lookers-
on were again ready for work. The boys were
allowed the afternoon free. They improved
the opportunity to visit a pond not very far
off. Walled in by steep masonry, it had been
built in the old signorial times, when the
guests of the palace rowed about in tiny cha-
loupes, gay pennants being mirrored in the
clear, deep water. The water was still clear
and transparent, but its level now stood several
feet lower. The boys played together, keep-
ing up a constant conversation by means of
signs and a few common Italian words which
Carlino had learned. Giacomo showed his
skill in throwing one of his crutches high up
in the air and catching it again on the very
edge of the parapet, jumping on one leg, as
A LIVING PARCEL. 67

the rules in the vicinity of a village would
not allow him to unhook the one that made
him professionally a cripple. Suddenly he
lost his balance, set up a piercing yell, and
disappeared in the water.

Carlino, like many of the boys and girls of
Sweden, had had an amphibious education, so
tospeak. He had known the art of swimming
since he was four years old. Without a sec-
ond’s hesitation, he threw off his jacket and
plunged, like an arrow, headforemost into the
water, in order to rescue the Italian boy, who,
even if he had been a swimmer, was fatally
hampered by his crooked leg. He managed
to reach the struggling fellow just as he was
about for the second time to disappear under
the surface. In his frantic effort to catch hold
of something to save himself by, the poor little
Italian nearly dragged Carlino down into the
depths, seizing him around the neck so that
he could not swim. Carlino succeeded, how-
ever, in freeing himself, at the same time hold-
ing up Giacomo with one hand. He clung to
the steep masonry so hard that the blood was
pressed out of his bruised fingers. Pax also,
who wanted to lend a hand, or foot, in the
68 PAX AND CARLINO.

work of rescue, jumped into the water. His
anxious yelps mingled with Carlino’s desperate
shouts for help.

At last some one heard their cries. The
music at the vintage stopped, and the whole
crowd, headed by the musician, came running
to the pond. One of the young men was low-
ered, several others holding on to his legs.
His strong arms soon brought all the unfort-
unates up on dry ground.

It was high time, for they all were nearly
exhausted. Thereupon they were carried in
solemn procession toward the farmhouse, Gia-
como, half crying, half laughing, telling his
father, and any one else that would listen,
what a brave boy “that foreigner was,” and
how he, Giacomo, would have been drowned,
“really drowned, most certainly drowned,”
had not “ gold-head,” as he called him, risked
his own life to save him.

Carlino had now become the hero of the
day. When their clothes were hung up to
dry before a fire in the kitchen, he and Gia-
como, wrapped in shawls, were surrounded by
a regular court of men and women, gathered
to hear Giacomo tell the adventure and to
A LIVING PARCEL. 69

compliment “the brave foreign boy.” “Oh,
bravo, bravo! ” they all called out.

The musician had to tell circumstantially
how he happened to meet him. Then he was
asked about the boy’s father and mother,
where he came from, and what he, the musi-
cian, was going to do about him, etc., etc.

While this: eager talk was going on around
the blazing fire of dry vine and olive branches,
the door was opened for Father Giovanni, the
Franciscan, the temporary assistant of the
village priest. Having a great thirst for knowl-
edge, the reverend gentleman had started for
the farm on the very first rumor of “ some-
thing having happened.” As soon as he was
seated, he took out a greasy wooden snuff-box
from the depths of a spacious pocket fastened
to the rope which he used as a scarf around
his heavy brown gown. Giving a tap with
two fingers on the lid, he looked around as if
taking in the whole company, strengthened
himself with a goodly pinch, and entered upon
a kind of cross-examination of all and every
one present.

In the midst of this solemn proceeding an
unexpected occurrence took place. In _ his
70 PAX AND CARLINO,

eagerness to tell the reverend father how it
happened, Giacomo forgot about being by
profession a cripple, and, all of a sudden, rush-
ing into the middle of the room, threw himself
down on the floor to show how he tumbled in.
The whole kitchen was filled with laughter at
this sudden and radical cure. The boy looked so
funny that his father, however dismayed at such
a lack of regard for business principles, could
not resist joining in the general merriment.
The uproar having ceased, the monk entered
upon the more embarrassing question of Car-
lino’s past, present, and future. His success in
examining the boy was slight indeed, as he
neither understood nor was understood. At
last, in a rather impatient mood, he undertook
to catechise Carlino’s jacket, which was hang-
ing on the back of the chair. Something fell
out of the pocket. It was the leathern cup,
one of those old-fashioned ones shaped like a
little folded canoe. Not having been used
since Carlino was last with his parents, it was
as if glued together when Father Giovanni,
who never before had seen an article of the
kind, carefully examined it. He handed it to
Carlino, who with an effort succeeded in open-
A LIVING PARCEL. 71

ing it. Then there dropped out of it a slip of
paper. It was the upper part of an envelope
with an American stamp on it, and a few
words printed in the left-hand corner.

The reverend father eagerly seized the
paper, The printed words ran thus;

““CarL O. Ros,
Columbia, Me.,
U.S. of America.”

Father Giovanni, who was perfectly igno-
rant of English, stumbled through these words
over and over again, as best he could. At
last he slowly and meditatively took another
pinch of snuff. Then he put his forefinger to
his forehead and rested so, wrapped in thought.
In a little while he gave a low whistle. Now
he understood the mysterious inscription, or
at least part of it. He had already found out
from the boy himself that his name was Car-
lorosso, or Carloros, or something like that.
Was it not plain that here was the address of
his father? Again, if such were the case—this
was his next, perhaps somewhat rash, con-
clusion—was it not just as plain that the
boy ought to be forwarded to Columbia to
72 PAX AND CARLINO.

his father? He, Padre Giovanni, of the holy
order of the Franciscans, would see about that
being done without delay. He would himself go
with the boy by rail to Genoa, where the great
steamer was lying, ready to take emigrants.

Having expounded this plan in all its de-
tails to his congregation around the fire, the
father, upon the spot, proceeded to make a
collection, which included some heavy clothing
that might be needed for the voyage. Thus
Carlino became the happy owner of an im-
mense round cloak, and of Giacomo’s red
waistcoat, which the Italian boy, notwithstand-
ing Carlino’s attitude of decided protest, in-
sisted on bestowing upon him. The hat hav-
ing made its round, Father Giovanni counted
the little sum, and then disappeared with Car-
lino’s jacket into the adjoining room. There
he got from the farmer’s wife a piece of cham-
ois leather, half a foot square. On its yellow
ground he wrote with brush and black paint
the following inscription in Italian:

** Please forward to
SIGNOR CARLOROS,
Columbia, America.
Providence pays freight.”
A LIVING PARCEL. 73

The farmer’s wife sewed this odd label se-
curely on to the left front of the jacket. Wav-
.ing this masterpiece in his hand as a flag, the
padre again made his appearance in the kitchen.
A murmur of admiration went through the
crowd when the scheme was explained to
them. Even Carlino somehow got a vague
idea that the warm-hearted Father Giovanni
was going to help him home to his parents.

During the two hours they had to wait be-
fore the arrival of the train bound for Genoa, .
Carlino enjoyed himself highly.

The stirring events of the last two days, the
evident kindness of all these people, the possi-
bility of a sort of conversation with Giacomo,
who almost seemed to understand Swedish,
the very undefined, but none the less, as he
thought, certain hope that he now was to be
put on the right track for home, and last, but
not least, the strengthening dinner after the
cold bath—all served to bring back his ordi-
nary buoyancy of spirits, sorely affected by the
last weeks’ trials and separation.
CHAPTER Xl,
WHITHER?

AT nine o’clock in the evening, Father
Giovanni, Carlino, and Pax, the latter snarling
suspiciously at the monk’s bare feet, stuck in
loose wooden sandals, passed up the gangway
to the steamship “ Allonia,” which was to
transfer directly to Charleston, S. C., a large
number of Italian emigrants bound for various
points of destination in the Southern States.

With the addition of what cash the reverend
father produced out of his own savings, the
collection was enough to pay Carlino’s passage,
at the very reduced price then current. As-
sisted by the Italian interpreter, Father Gio-
vanni impressed upon the officer by whom they
were received on board that his little protégé
was a most remarkable person, and that he
ought to be well cared for, and that his parents
would be sure to show their gratitude upon his
arrival. The officer—it was the second mate

14
WHITHER? 78

—listened in a very absent-minded way, the
father thought. He did not even answer, only
looked fixedly at the boy. The reverend gen-
tleman then tried to get him into a more com-
municative mood by enticing him to regale
himself with a pinch of snuff. When the
American rather sternly refused this peace-
offering, Father Giovanni, with a humorous
look of offended astonishment, consoled himself
with a generous pinch of the aromatic powder,
and turned to accompany Carlino to his place
in the steerage.

As the steamer was to lift anchor early next
morning, Father Giovanni soon had to bid
good-by. Carlino, who was very fond of giv-
ing presents, took the leather cup out of his
pocket and thrust it into the monk’s wallet.
He could not understand why this seemed to
make the father sad. At any rate, he very
plainly saw him wiping away a tear from the
brown, sunburned cheek.

Next minute Father Giovanni’s slippers
were shuffling along the gangway, Pax stand-
ing at the top and giving several short, discon-
tented barks at the descending feet.

Pax was perhaps not altogether wrong in
76 PAX AND CARLINO.

barking at the retreating form of the reverend
father; for in that gentleman’s wallet there
was, inside the leather cup, which could be
easily replaced, another thing that could not.
There was the piece of paper with the address.
It was not the address of Carlino’s father, as
the monk had taken it for granted, but it was
the name and residence of an uncle, who had
been living for more than twenty years in
America. He would of course have received
Carlino into his home, had the boy come there.
Unluckily, on the chamois label that Father
Giovanni attached to his living package, the
reverend father, in making his Italian version,
had not only unintentionally changed the gen-
tleman’s name, but also left out two small let-
ters, “We.,” the significance of which he did
not understand. He knew only about one
Columbia. Even that held a very vague place
in his mind. It would have been to him just
as much a myth as a city in the moon, had he
not happened to hear the name that very day.
A woman of his village had told him about
meeting in the morning train, when she was
going to market, a distant relative of hers, a
man by the name of Antonio, who had been
WHITHER? 77

for some time footman to the bishop of the
diocese. This Antonio was about to sail for
America in the steamer “Allonia.” He was
going to join a brother of his who was a fruit-
vendor in a town by the name of “ Colombia.”

The possibility never struck Father Giovanni
that there could be more than one American
town named in honor of his great countryman,
the weaver’s son from Genoa. Still less could
he—or, for that matter, any other uninitiated
person—imagine that those two unimportant-
looking letters were the sign-posts to show a
traveler which way to choose in order to reach
the right Columbia out of the baker’s dozen
or thereabouts which are liberally scattered
among the different States of the Union.

Such, however, was the case. The two let-
ters signified the State of Maine, the most
northern of the Northern States. Could it
be that Pax, with his wonderful sagacity, had
some gloomy forebodings as to the result of
this slight omission ?

On the whole, life on shipboard from the
very outset disagreed with Pax. He looked
dejected, and shortly after embarking he crept
into one of the boats, where he sullenly curled
78 PAX AND CARLINO.

himself up with his nose between his paws.
Nothing stirred him until the steam-whistle
with its hoarse shriek signaled to the world
that the sea-monster was bidding fair Italy
“addio.” Then Pax in a most discreditable
manner howled and barked at the noble city
of Genoa, whose white marble palaces seemed
slowly to sink into the blue waters as the ves-
sel steamed off, the foam in snowy flakes surg-
ing around its proud black bow.

Carlino was asleep when this happened—
asleep and dreaming in a snug berth with white
sheets and a clean blanket—a bed altogether
different from the empty bunk in the steerage.
He had already gone to sleep among the rest
on his hard board, with his round cloak over
him, too tired even to look for his beloved
Pax, when the second mate came in and took
the boy, cloak and all, in his strong arms, car-
ried him into his cabin, and laid him softly
down at the foot of his own bed. Having
done this, the officer looked around to see that
the door was well closed against inquisitive
eyes. Then he stooped down and kissed him
tenderly. Or perhaps it might be more true
to say that in kissing the unknown stranger
WHITHER? 79

he kissed another fair child with golden hair
—his own darling boy, for more than two
years sleeping quietly under the weeping ashes
at Greenwood Cemetery, outside New York.
The tall, weather-beaten sailor stood several
minutes looking at the boy who bore such a
striking resemblance to the beloved child whom
he so often, in his short stays at home, had
watched in his sleep.

At last he heaved a deep sigh, drew the
green shade over the lamp, and went out into
the night.
CHAPTER XIL.
OLD AND NEW ACQUAINTANCES.

For a couple of days Carlino, like most of
the landsmen, had to pay his tribute to old
Neptune. As soon as he had overcome his
seasickness, he enjoyed the voyage famously.
He began to regain the freedom and natural-
ness which were his special characteristics.
This was to a great extent brought about by
the kindness of the second mate, who treated
him as his own child. A special pleasure to
the boy was to pick up English. It was by
far an easier language than Italian. The
words were actually often the same as in
Swedish. It would be great fun, he thought,
when he was now so soon to reach his home
in Sweden, to astonish his father and mother
with his learning, as well as with his remark-
able adventures.

No questions were asked concerning Car-

lino’s point of destination. His knowledge
80
OLD AND NEW ACQUAINTANCES, 81

of English was not comprehensive enough to
allow any explanation as to the mystery of his
traveling all alone. There was the address on
his jacket ; and the fact that one of the sailors,
who had formerly shared the cabin with a
Swede, insisted on the boy’s mother-tongue
being Swedish, was not so very astonishing,
after all. Those Scandinavians settled in al-
most any part of the States. The boy’s par-
ents, no doubt, were emigrants that had sent
for their child. Why he came by the round-
about way of Italy certainly seemed very
strange, but none the less it was a fact. A fact
it was also that Carlino, who had the perfect
freedom of the ship, was the favorite of all,
officers and crew alike. He amused them with
his fearless ways, his straight, soldier-like back,
and his sweet voice in singing the strange mel-
odies of his country, and he won their hearts by
his thoughtfulness for others, and his charming
tact and politeness.

Once he very nearly failed in the latter
respect. He was going forward in order to
have a better look at the white-caps, which
caught the brilliancy of the red evening sun.

Suddenly he was startled by a furious barking.
G
82 PAX AND CARLINO.

He found Pax in this manner showing his dis-
approval of a figure very different from any-
thing the boy’s eyes had ever beheld. It was
a man dressed all in white: white jacket, white
trousers, white apron, and a big white cap
crowning a woolly head—a head which was all
black and shiny as the fellow’s own unexcep-
tionable shoes. The only thing not black in
the blackness of that face was the white of the
eyes, and a double row of white teeth between
a pair of thick lips. Carlino actually fell back
at the sudden appearance of that unearthly
human magpie. To be sure, it is a very dif.
ferent thing to see a negro in a picture-book,
and, for the first time in one’s six years’ ex-
perience, to meet him life-size in the accoutre-
ment of a ship’s cook.

Carlino must himself have felt that he was
lacking in courtesy, for he blushed up to the
roots of his hair. In a second he resolutely
approached the dark apparition and held out
his hand.

“ Bress my soul, young gem’man, you ain’t
goin’ to be afeerd of me?” said the cook, grin-
ning all over, and shaking hands with Carlino,
who bowed very solemnly and passed on.
OLD AND NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 83

The boy could not help looking at his hand
to see whether any of the black stuck to it.
Some of the emigrants who were looking on
read his thoughts, and burst out laughing.
Carlino lifted his head. He stopped short;
his face grew ghastly pale. He saw some-
thing that made his blood turn cold. He
thought that his eyes met the dark look of
Mr. Hook-nose.

No, no, it could not be! That man, who
now busied himself with something, so that
his face was hidden, had a big mustache, and
Antonio was closely shaved. This man also
had a big plaster on his forehead over his left
eye. Oh no, impossible! It was only imag-
ination.

Pax—what was the matter with Pax? He
was running off in dismay, his tail between his
legs. Carlino wondered whether the dog also
was afraid of that man. Of course it could
not be Antonio, he looked so different.

False or not, the impression was strong
enough to make Carlino turn back. He
wanted the protection of the kind second
mate.

Alas! the warm heart and the strong arm
84 PAX AND CARLINO.

of his friend would not long be able to guard
him. Three days off the American coast, the
“ Allonia” was caught in a violent gale. One
moment the big vessel was trembling on the
top of a billow, which rose like a steep
mountain of transparent emerald, the next she
went down into the abyss, the white, foamy
crests arching above her, and dashing, with
the roar of thunder, over her deck. One of
these heavy seas threw the mate with such
violence against the capstan that he fell uncon-
scious on the deck. In this state he was placed
in the hospital state-room. Next day he woke
out of his deathlike slumber. The physician
was very hopeful as to his final recovery, but
he was so weak that during the remainder of
the passage nobody was allowed to see him.
However much the unlucky sufferer longed
for his young friend, he was especially anxious
to spare the boy the sad sight of his fright-
fully bruised and mangled face. Besides, he
had no claim on that boy, now on his way to
his parents. Perhaps it might be better that
the separation took place at once, as Provi-
dence seemed to order it.

When Carlino was told by the doctor that
OLD AND NEW ACQUAINTANCES., 85

he could not be allowed to see his kind friend,
he was in despair. He begged in the most im-
petuous manner for admission, in his eagerness
mixing Italian, English, and Swedish words,
and looking so entreatingly out of his blue eyes
that it took all the physician’s sense of his
professional responsibility to withstand such
a petitioner. He had to do so, however, as
he feared it would really do harm to the fever-
ish patient.

The towers and spires of Charleston came
in sight, rising, as by magic, out of the glitter-
ing waves. Soon the whole city, framed in
the luxuriant verdure of the sunny South, ap-
peared swimming, as it were, upon the ocean.
The queen of the forest, the majestic pine,
with its straight trunk shining like gold in the
sunlight, looked out far over the sea, proudly
lifting its round crown against a deep-blue
sky. The palmetto spread its light-green fan
far above the glossy leaves of the magnolia.
Around them were seen the autumnal colors:
the brown, the gold, and the red of the elm,
the ash, and the swamp-maple, whose brilliant
attire was the only reminder that this warm
summer day really was the last day of October.
86 PAX AND CARLINO.

- Carlino, with Pax on his lap, was sitting on
the steps to the captain’s bridge, dreamily
looking at this wonderful sight. Strange
thoughts of anxiety rose in his mind. This
shore did not look at all like the coast around
Stockholm, with its girdle of a thousand isl-
_ ands. These trees—how different from the

_ oaks and the spruce on the heights around his
home! -The city itself, beautiful as it was—
even a child’s eye could not escape its charm
—was so softly flat, so strangely rich in color,
such a perfect contrast to the austere Swedish
capital, built on granite rocks, and guarded by
its reef of many isles. Even before this day
he had had some misgivings as to the ‘“Allo-
nia’s”’ course. But, more or less consciously,
he had not allowed himself to dwell upon
them. Now strange thoughts of anxiety flut-
tered in his mind like startled birds. They
seemed to cry out in despair. Or was it only
the weird cry of the seagull, suddenly diving
in the glittering waters, and then again, with
another plaintive cry, lifting its white wings to
sail far away into the blue ether?

A hand was laid on the boy’s shoulder. It
was the doctor.










Page 86.

”

xX ON HIS LAP.

A

PPE PS

RLINO W

“CAL
OLD AND NEW ACQUAINTANCES. 87

“Flere, my boy, this is for you, from the
second mate,” and he put a small package into
Carlino’s pocket.

‘Me wants to say addio,’’ Carlino burst out.

“No, my boy,” said the physician, “that
will not do. He is too weak. You tell your
folks to write a letter for you to him; that
will please him, and help him to get better.
Your father é

“Never see father, never mother—no pos-
sible,” cried out Carlino, sobbing, and putting
up both hands in despair. ‘This no my land.”

The doctor looked surprised.

“ Well, I know that,” he said; “I know that
you come from another country; but are you
not going to your father and mother? Don’t
they live in America?”

“No, me go home to Sverige. This is not



Sverige.”

“Sverige! I never heard of a country with
that name,” said the doctor, puzzled.

The boy looked at him in utter amazement.
This was beyond his comprehension.

“ This is the address of your father, isn’t it?”
continued the doctor, pointing to the label on
Carlino’s jacket: “‘Carloros, Columbia.”
88 PAX AND CARLINO.

As Carlino had not yet learned how to read,
he had simply taken it for granted that the
address written by Father Giovanni was his
right destination, and that, to be sure, was his
home. Now it dawned upon him that it was
his uncle’s address. He had often heard of
“his uncle in America.”

“Oh, Uncle Carl!” he said—* Uncle Carl
Ros in Columbia.”

“Tt is your uncle, is it?” said the doctor.
“Well, that is next best. Vou will be there
this evening. It is not a large city; you will
easily be told where to find him. I will tell
one of our men to see that you are put on
the train all right. Now I must be off. A
blessing upon you, my little man.”

Carlino had to summon all his resolution
not to throw himself down on the deck in
utter desperation. He managed, however, to
bid good-by to the captain, and to follow one
of the sailors, who drove with him to the
station in a cab. Half an hour later he was
seated in the train on his way to Columbia,
the capital of South Carolina,
CHAPTER XIII.
THE WRONG COLUMBIA.

CARLINO was in blissful ignorance of any
other “ Columbia” than the pretty town which
he now beheld while walking along the road
leading from the railway station.

It was a neat-looking place, with broad
streets and with pretty parks, splendidly kept
by the finest gardener, Nature herself. Even
at this late season rich flower-carpets were
spread before almost every door. Fine trees
inclosed churches and public buildings in a
frame of green or red foliage. In the distance,
between sharp-cut sand-hills of a brilliant red
color, there flowed a river—the Congaree—
which reminded Carlino of an immense moat,
like those he had seen in Germany. On a
height just above the town, a magnificent
building, looking like the palace of a king,
lifted its stately form, adorned with rows of

89
90 PAX AND CARLINO.

columns and with a proud tower which over-
looked the surrounding country.

All this Carlino observed with much inter-
est. It was his uncle’s town, and every detail
impressed itself most vividly upon his mind.
He had, under his father’s guidance, acquired
the habit of not letting anything escape un-
noticed. Practice, during his travels of the
last weeks, or rather months, had very much
increased this faculty. Besides, he had devel-
oped almost unnaturally fast during the sepa-
ration from home. He was now just seven, his
birthday having passed without his knowing
it, two days before, while he was still on board
the vessel.

It might be added that those blue eyes of
his, which peeped out so observingly into the
wide world, sometimes sparkling with mirth,
sometimes dreamingly wistful, always touch-
ing by their charming innocence, had now
grown so accustomed to new and unexpected —
sights that they could scarcely be surprised at
anything.

To-day, however, they actually were thrown
off their balance, so to speak, when their owner
walked down the main street of the Southern
THE WRONG COLUMBIA. gI

town, in company, of course, with Pax, who,
by the way, looked a great deal less burdened
with the anxieties and responsibilities of life
from the moment he again set his foot on dry
ground. What gave Carlino’s eyes such a
surprise was not the place itself, but the color
of its inhabitants. The greater part of them
were as black as the cook on board of the
“Allonia.” In the streets he almost exclu-
sively met negroes. On the spacious veran-
das, overgrown with vines, he saw black ladies
and black gentlemen, both alike smoking their
cigars, and leaning comfortably in arm-chairs
or on lounges. Had he been a man, he would
have been still more astonished by being told
that the lofty building that looked to him like
a king’s palace was the State House, where
the colored people, once loaded down with the
chains of slavery, now were the rulers, giving
laws both to white and to black, in the proud
State of the Palmetto.

A black gentleman was just stepping out
of his elegant carriage before the entrance of
a pretty house. Carlino mustered courage
enough to address him, asking him kindly to
tell where Mr. Carl Ros lived,
g2 PAX AND CARLINO.

“Carl Ros? What is he?” asked the negro
gentleman, with a pleasant smile at the curi-
ously attired little questioner.

Carlino was going to answer as well as his
defective English might permit, when he was
prevented by a white man, who had appar-
ently just come up behind him, and had hap-
pened to overhear his question.

“Signori,” the newcomer said, in very
broken English, ‘me show, me know.”

Carlino turned hastily back, and Pax simul-
taneously gave a bark. There must have
been something in the voice that reminded
them both of Mr. Hook-nose.

They were reassured, however, or at least
Carlino was, as soon as he looked at the man;
for the Italian was rather a pleasant-looking
fellow, with the dark eyes of his native coun-
try, but without any hooked nose. Thanking
the negro with a polite bow, Carlino followed
the Italian, who walked so rapidly that the
boy got altogether out of breath, and Pax,
who was suspiciously sniffing around the man’s
legs, had to keep up quite a brisk trot. They
had been crossing into another part of the
town, when the man stopped before a quaint-
THE WRONG COLUMBIA. 93

looking little house. The front side of it was
open toward the street, revealing a very
prettily arranged fruiterer’s shop. With its
rows of shelves it formed a kind of amphi-
theater, adorned at both ends with immense
clusters of red and yellow bananas. In the
highest row the seats were given up to golden
oranges. Then followed apples of different
sizes and coloring, from faint rose to dark red.
The lowest and most aristocratic places, near-
est to the spectators, were reserved for the
aromatic pineapples, decorated with a very re-
fined mark of nobility, in the shape of a proud
tuft of palmetto leaves.

The mistress of this realm of perfume and
color was a handsome Italian girl, about twelve
years of age. Standing inside the little coun-
ter, she nodded pleasantly to the man and the
boy, as though she had been expecting them
both.

“How sweet he looks!” she said in Italian.

“ Little one, stop here before we go to Signor
Carloros,” said the man to Carlino, and passed
before him inside the counter.

There was a small door at the back part of
the shop. The Italian opened it, and, having
94. PAX AND CARLINO.

said a few words to somebody in the inner
room, he asked Carlino to step in. The boy
did as he was bid. The door shut behind him.
He saw another Italian sitting on the bed. He
uttered one scream of horror, and sank down
on the floor.

Pax, who had not been admitted, was whin-
ing pitifully outside.
CHAPTER XIV.
JEWELS.

ANTONIO had left the “ Allonia” at the
same time as Carlino. He started in the same
train for Columbia. He wanted to keep an
eye on the boy, hoping to make money out of
him, possibly by delivering him up to his rela-
tions, or else in some other way. At the sta-
tion in Columbia Mr. Hook-nose was met by
his brother, who, assisted by an orphan niece,
kept a fruit store in town. A few hurried
words from Antonio told the brother to follow
the boy and to coax him to the shop, which
Antonio, no doubt, would be able to find all
by himself.

“Good, Fernando, you caught the bird!”
were the words—in Italian, of course—with
which Mr. Hook-nose welcomed his brother
when he was locking the door behind Carlino.

“Yes, and without any hubbub whatever.
He came like a lamb.”

“Well, didn’t I tell you so? TI told you he

95
96 PAX AND CARLINO.

would swallow ’most anything. He is the
greenest chick in my experience. He would
trust the very devil, if he hid his claws.”

“Madonna! how you talk, Antonio. You,
too, used to belong to the clergy, as it were.”

“T am done with that now, Fernando. That
sanctimonious old black-coat of a bishop!
Didn’t he and the burgomaster set the police
after me! They might have caught me, had
I not led them on the wrong track. The
‘Allonia’ was starting exactly as if she had
been ordered for my sake. I only wish I were
sure the stones were real. In our days they
are often taken out, you know, and sham ones
put in their place.”

“You don’t say so!” exclaimed the brother,
horrified.

“ Besides,” continued Mr. Hook-nose, ap-
parently without noticing the impression his
suggestion made upon Fernando, “ besides,
even if they are real, they may not be worth
enough for us to live on. That’s the reason
why I thought it best to try to get something
out of the boy too. Life goes hard with us
poor people. Best always to look out for
number one,”
JEWELS. 97

Carlino all this time was lying on the floor,
sobbing, sobbing, his face hid in his hands.

“Poor wretch!” said Fernando. ‘Come
now,” he continued, in English, leaning to
raise the boy up, “come now, no cry.”

“Corpi di Bacco!” exclaimed Hook-nose,

1?

“leave the milksop alone, will you? Let him
howl until he gets tired. I declare,” he added,
looking with mock interest at the boy’s head,
“isn’t there a second crop coming! I tell you
Thad once the honor of being that youngster’s
most humble hair-cutter in monsignore’s own
library. Why, let us look at this. Get up, you!”

As Mr. Hook-nose was talking all the time
in Italian, Carlino did not even know that he
was addressing him.

“Will you get up, you obstinate rascal?”
Antonio repeated, enforcing his command with
a kick.

Carlino only moaned.

“You are a brute!” exclaimed Fernando,
picking the boy up and laying him on the bed,
placed close under the slanting roof. “TI tell
you, I don’t mind anything you do to your
bishop or other rich tyrants. They have stolen

from us—let us take it back! Buta poor child
3 H
98 PAX AND CARLINO.

like that! He looked so gratefully at me when
I promised to show him the way. ‘Those blue
eyes e

“Blue eyes! blue eyes!” interrupted An-
tonio, fiercely; “the evil eye, that is what he
has. Now stop that nonsense. Let’s talk
business. When is he coming?”

“ He is coming directly after dark. He will
be here in a few minutes. Why, look here,
the boy is already asleep; he must have been
very tired.”

Fernando threw the boy’s round cloak over
him, so that it covered him, head and all.

“ And Giulia?” asked Hook-nose.

“ She will soon be off to the evening school.
It’s a splendid school—makes her talk and read
English like an American. There now, I hear
her closing up and fastening the shutters. She
won't be home before a quarter past ten.
Thompson is coming in through the back
door.”

“Well, gentlemen,” said a sharp nasal voice
some minutes later, “you are not-very brill-
iantly lighted. Well, well, the deeds of dark-
ness! ”’ the voice added, chuckling at the wit.

Fernando lit a match.


JEWELS. 99

“Signor Thompson?”

“He himself, your sarvant, gentlemen,”
brayed a tall, thin man, whose piercing gray
eyes glistened as though they reflected the
light of the kerosene lamp which Fernando
now had lighted.

“Brother?” the newcomer asked, pointing
with his long, crooked thumb at Mr. Hook-
nose. ‘Speak English?” he went on, without
waiting for an answer.

“No, signore, no speak, no understand,”
answered Fernando.

“ Pity!” said Mr. Thompson. . “ Where are
the things? Tell him to show off.”

Again he pointed with his crooked thumb
over his shoulder in the direction of Antonio. -

Fernando having interpreted Mr. Thomp-
son’s words, Mr. Hook-nose, with many suspi-
cious glances from his black eyes toward the
sharp-looking American, ripped with a knife
the seams around the waist of his brown vel-
veteen trousers. On a saucer which the
brother reached him he carefully put down
some precious stones of different colors.

Mr. Thompson looked contemptuously at
them,
100 PAX AND CARLINO.

“ False,’ he said— worth nothing in this
country.”

“Ask your brother what they have been
set in,” he continued, slyly looking at the face
of Fernando, who had suddenly turned pale at
the word “ false.” ;

In answer to Mr. Thompson’s question
Hook-nose fished up out of the leg of his
boot a heavy golden crucifix—or, rather,
pieces of a crucifix, as it had been broken in
order to fit the means of transportation.

There came something like a flash into Mr.
Thompson’s gray eyes. He took one of the
pieces, weighing it in his hand. Wanting to
hear its ring, he threw it so hard against
the table that it jumped up and with a loud
crash landed in the midst of the saucer with
the jewels.

The sound had the most astonishing effect
on the bed by the American’s chair. Some-
thing stirred under the black covering, and
suddenly a fair-haired boy sat straight up in
the bed, looking, bewildered, at the men around
the table.

All three of them, with looks of surprise and
dismay, turned their faces upon the boy, For
JEWELS. IOI

aiaoment they sat motionless. Then Antonio,
with an oath, caught up a bar used to fasten
the door, and lifted it to strike. Quick as
lightning the American caught his arm, and
with iron grip pressed him down on a chair.
There he held him as ina vice. At last An-
tonio, pale with rage, thought best to control
himself. Then the American let go.

“Crazy?” he asked Fernando, pointing with
his thumb at Mr. Hook-nose. ‘He may be
sure the detectives are after him, anyhow.
Quite unnecessary to help them on the track.
Murder zwz/Z out. You lie down under your
cover, young man, and keep mum, now and
forever,” he said, motioning to Carlino, who
in a fright crept down, drawing the cloak over
his head.

“Now, business, gentlemen,” said Mr.
Thompson. ‘Can’t pay you much for these.
Not worth much in this country. How much
d’ye ask?”

“How much you offer?” asked Fernando.

“Dunno. Don’t understand stones,” Mr.
Thompson retorted, forgetting that the minute
before he had pronounced them false.

Antonio now broke in, and poured out a
102 PAX AND CARLINO.

volley of rapid Italian on the head of his
brother, who answered quite meekly, Mr.
Thompson impatiently drumming on the table.
As the result of the consultation beween the
brothers, Fernando told Mr. Thompson that
Antonio was unwilling to sell unless he was
allowed first to take the opinion of a jeweler.
He, Fernando, was to go with Mr. Thompson
to a jeweler in any large city. Then they
could strike a bargain. Antonio should stay
at home and attend to the shop.

Mr. Thompson reflected. or once he had
really told the truth, when he said that he did
not understand “ stones,” his chief business up
to date having been in the line of rags and
iron-scraps. On that account he did not dare
altogether to reject the plan, but he imme-
diately turned his inventive genius to improv-
ing upon it.

“Won't do,” he said, authoritatively, “ won’t
do, sir. Your name is Fernando Porta. As
he is your brother, I suppose his name is also
Porta. D’ye see? Italian police has tele-
graphed the name—see? Detectives ferret
him out in a jiffy. Now, I'll tell you. You
go to-morrow with me to New York. I have
JEWELS. 103

friends there in the jewelry line. Besides,
it’s about the only place where you dare to
sell such things. Your brother closes up shop
here, moves your concern to Charleston, sets
up under a new name—see? Safest plan,
d’ye see?”

“And the boy?” Fernando asked, telling
him in a few words about him.

Mr. Thompson rubbed his nose with his
forefinger.

“Well,” he answered, after a moment’s re-
flection, ‘I guess there is a mistake about the
address. I know this town. No Mr. Carloros
in this place—no siv/’ Anyhow, I will make
sure before the train starts to-morrow. If I
don’t find out anything, he”’—pointing at
Hook-nose—“ will have to take the young
gentleman with him down to Charleston.
Only way to manage—d’ye see?”

A new consultation in Italian between the
brothers led to the acceptance of Mr. Thomp-
son’s plan in all its details,
CHAPTER XV.
GIULIA AND HER TROUPE.

THE shop of Nino Simeoni, as Mr. Hook-
nose now chose to call himself, was situated in
one of the back streets of Charleston.

It was not much of a shop. Almost all
the inhabitants of that quarter were penniless
“niggers,” with a small sprinkling of still more
needy “ poo’ white trash,” as they were called
by the superior “cullud pussons.”

Among the inhabitants of such a neighbor-
hood there was less consumption of oranges
than of orange peel, which the little black
urchins picked up from the street after some
thirsty stranger who, passing through that
quarter, had refreshed himself with some of
the golden fruit exhibited in Hook-nose’s shop-
window.

It was no surprise to that gentleman that
trade on the spot should be very slack. He

had certain reasons why he liked better to set-
104
GlOLIA AND HER TROUPE. Ios

tle in an obscure street, somewhat aside from
the regular beat of the city police. Even here
he seldom ventured out before dark.

Business, however, was not so dull, after all.
Only it was carried on mainly in other parts
of the city. Day after day Signor Simeoni,
so-called, speeded off not less than three
commercial travelers to work the principal
streets. The leader of the corps was Giulia.
She was assisted by Carlino and a negro boy
by the name of Tom Lane.

Young Tom, for his age—he was just eleven
—was known as a famous player of the banjo.
He had been engaged by Mr. Hook-nose
chiefly to act as the horse of the little troupe.
Every morning, as soon as the eastern sky
flushed with the first faint streak of red gold,
a cart loaded with oranges, apples, and bana-
nas was drawn into the street from the court-
yard, Tom, his banjo around his neck, putting
himself into the shafts, neighing and prancing,
as a kind of black pony on two legs. After
the cart followed Giulia, dressed in her Italian
costume, erect like a statue, bearing on the
top of her black braids a low basket filled with
grapes, late roses, and other flowers. Carlino,
106 PAX AND CARLINO.

yellow curls again beginning to frame his pale
face, walked by the girl’s. side, carrying sus-
pended from his shoulders a shining metal
tray loaded with sweetmeats.

The procession, once on the march, was in-
variably joined by Pax. As he did not dare
to stay under the same roof with Mr. Hook-
nose, the poor fellow led rather the life of a
vagabond, sleeping in outhouses or empty ash-
barrels, but always sure to join the children as
soon as he thought himself out of kicking dis-
tance of the Italian’s boot.

Down by the harbor the children took up
their position, near some point where busi-
ness was especially brisk—if possible, where
goods and passengers were shipped for some
steamer. There, in the midst of the din and
rattle of the heavy carts that rolled along the
quay, almost tottering under their high loads
of cotton-bales, they struck up a song, Giulia
leading and Tom accompanying on the banjo.
Their sweet voices—Giulia’s clear, open, like
the blue sky of her native country; Tom’s
sweetly passionate, as a sigh for freedom out
of the breast of the slave; Carlino’s veiled
with that melodious melancholy which in the
GIULIA AND HER TROUPE. 107

North, like the dreaming twilight of its short
summer, softens the very song of joy—all
formed a very charming concert. Their pro-
gram was varied: Italian and Swedish songs
from Giulia and Carlino, weird negro strains
from Tom, each one singing the words with
which they were familiar, the other children
humming the tune as a kind of accompani-
ment. The melodies were borne like flow-
ers of many colors on the gray cloud of the
noise from rolling cart-wheels and snorting
steamers.

Asarule a crowd soon gathered around the
group, which, merely on account of the ap-
pearance of the singers, was very apt to attract
attention. When the time for a collection had
come, Pax, whom Giulia very soon had dis-
covered to bea “learned” dog, took his place
on the cart, holding with his teeth a hat, which
Tom for the moment withdrew from the black
cap of wool that Nature kindly had bestowed
upon him. Giulia in a very pretty way ad-
dressed the audience, explaining that the mu-
sic was all free; if the ladies and gentlemen
would buy some fruit or some sweetmeats, and
that at a very cheap price, she and her com-
108 PAX AND CARLINO,

rades would be very happy to have given them
a little extra pleasure.

This idea of giving away the music for noth-
ing was Giulia’s. Young as she was, she had
an eye for business. Mr. Hook-nose at first
did not approve of the plan, but as it turned
out to be quite lucrative, he withdrew his ob-
jections. People seemed somehow to like
oranges or grapes a great deal better with
music than without it.

In the afternoon, having had their frugal
dinner in the Italian’s shop, the children gen-
erally repaired in full procession to that ex-
quisite promenade at the water’s edge, the
Battery, a charming park, commanding a noble
view of the bay and of the green islands, its
breakwater. There they offered their songs
and their fruit to a society by far more aristo-
cratic than the black workmen and mammies
by the wharf. There it happened quite often
that a lady or gentleman, in addition to the
regular price for a couple of oranges, or even
without buying anything at all, threw into
Pax’s hat an extra dime “ for the singers.”

At such occasions Giulia expressed her grati-
tude by dancing a tarantella under the shade
GIULIA AND HER TROUPE. 10Q

of the magnolias, with a fire and a grace that
quite captivated the spectators.

When the receipts were good, the children
often stayed until the sun had set. The stars
mirrored in the dark waters quivering streaks
of silver and gold. The autumn wind was
mild and balmy as in Naples. The sound of
the rippling waves reminded Giulia of the Chi-
aja. She watched the wonderful sight with
dreaming eyes, and sang in a subdued voice,
as to herself:

““O dolce Napoli!
O sol beato!”

The time spent on these business expedi-
tions was the happiest part of Carlino’s present
life. At home—if one could give that name
to the gloomy room behind the shop—he al-
ways had the feeling of two hateful dark eyes
that held him by a strange fascination, as the
snake is said to allure the defenseless bird.

Even in his sleep, when he was lying in his
“berth’’—a shelf made out of rude boards, fas-
tened to the wall on the top of Antonio’s bed
—he dreamed about those eyes. Dark as the
night, and yet gleaming like burning coals,
TIO PAX AND CARLINO.

they were steadily fixed on him. Sometimes
he awoke horror-struck, and sat straight up in
bed, listening to the heavy breathing of the
Italian. At other times he drew his round
cloak, which served him as a blanket, over his
head, and lay trembling all over, until finally
weariness got the better of his fear, and sleep
gently closed the anxious blue eyes.

In the mornings the boy was early roused
by the angry rapping of the Italian’s fist
against his shelf, which shook as though it were
going totumble down. Scared and sorrowful,
the child arose, repeating in a whisper the
Swedish children’s short morning prayer taught
him by his mother: ‘ Look on me, Thy little
one.”

When preparing to start he was bullied by
Mr. Hook-nose in many different ways. A
most common thing was that the Italian lifted
his hand as if going to deal him a violent blow,
and held it so for some seconds, laughing in
his mocking way at the child’s terror. Antonio
never struck him, though. His hand was kept
back by a sensation of fear, inexplicable to
himself, also to some extent by the hope of
getting, in the end, money out of his family.
GIULIA AND HER TROUPE. III

In these days of trial Giulia was a great
comfort to Carlino. She was like an elder sis-
ter, almost a mother to him. She cheered him
when he was in distress, she mended _ his
clothes, and in some mysterious manner she
managed to buy him an extra pair of stockings
and a striped shirt for a change. She even
took an interest in his education, not only
teaching him how to express himself in Eng-
lish, but also giving him lessons in reading
from scraps of newspapers or from the gilded
signs which they passed in the streets.
CHAPTER XVI.
AWAY! AWay!

“CARLINO!” Giulia called out, She was
sitting in the little shop, where the light from
the lamp peeped timidly forth, half hidden by
a fresh stock of pineapples, which she was
assorting.

“Carlino, come here, my little one. He
has gone out.”

The boy appeared from the dark inner room,
his pale face brightening at the thought of be-
ing, for a while, alone with Giulia.

“ Signore gone?” he asked, as if he wanted
to make quite sure.

“Come, Carlino,” said the girl, without
answering the question, “do you know what
we are going to do? We have forgotten to
look at the package you had in your pocket.
You know I told you to hide it so that he
shouldn’t find it.”

“It is tucked in between the boards in my
112
AWAY! AWAY! I13

bed. I have never dared to open it; I am
afraid of the signore. I am always afraid,
Giulia, I am always afraid. I will never,
never get home.”

“Oh, Caro mio,” Giulia said, soothingly,
“you'll get home, you will. Go and fetch the
package. If he comes home we will just blow
out the lamp.”

Carlino brought the little package. It was
rather heavy for its size.

“Oh me, oh me, Carlino,’” exclaimed Giu-
lia, ‘‘ what a pretty silk ribbon, with gold letters
on it! Look here, make it out yourself.”

Carlino spelled very slowly, “Al-lo-ni-a.”

“Why, Giulia, do you know that is such a
ribbon as the sailors have around their caps.”

“Good, good! I will sew it on yours im-
mediately. Look here, what is this?”

She opened a small envelope such as physi-
cians use for powders. It contained three gold
pieces. Around the money was wrapped a
piece of paper with these words: “My own
boy! You may need this or you may not.
Let it remind you of your friend on the
‘ Allonia.’”

Giulia clapped her hands and bounded with

I
114 PAX AND CARLINO.

joy, lifting her skirt with the tip of her fingers,
as if she were going to dance a “ pas seul” on
the narrow space between the apple barrels.

“You are rich, you are rich—how glad I
am!”

Suddenly a cloud passed over her face.

“ Fle’ll take it,” she said, faltering.

The thought of Mr. Hook-nose struck both
the children with horror.

Giulia, however, was soon up to the needs
of the moment. She ripped the lining of the
boy’s trousers just around his waist, and sewed
the money in securely. This done, she drew
a long breath.

“ There, he will never smell them,” she said.
“Now let me fasten the ribbon on to your
cap.”

“ But, Giulia, perhaps the signore will dislike
it?” Evenin Antonio’s absence Carlino never
dared to mention him without the respectful
“signore,” which the Italian punctiliously ex-
acted.

“Oh no,” Giulia answered; “he will like it.
Your ‘signore,’ as you call him, likes everything
that makes people stop and look at us in the |
street. That is the reason why he gave me


“LIFTING HER Skir?T."” Page 114.
AWAY! AWAY! 115

this necklace. These red beads are pretty.
People gaze at them. Oh, I know him!
Uncle Fernando isn’t very good, but he—
Well, he is—”’ She clenched her fist. “How
I hate him!

“No, no!” she said, interrupting herself,
“we must hurry up! Now let me put on
your cap.”

Both the children very much enjoyed the
long ribbon floating down Carlino’s back. This
important addition to his outfit made them
forget their trials. They chattered and
laughed as if no Mr. Hook-nose had ever
existed.

Meanwhile this worthy individual was walk-
ing along the back streets in order to get
a whiff of fresh air and some exercise. That
very moment he was buried in dismal reflec-
tions. He had been growing more and more
bitter the longer his brother and Mr. Thomp-
son stayed away. Fernando, having been ab-
sent a week, had sent a short note, in which
he reported that the stones were very val-
uable, and that it would take some time be-
fore the business could be settled. He pre-
ferred not to sell them all to Thompson, but
116 PAX AND CARLINO.

offer some of them directly to jewelers in a
quarter of New York called “The Bowery,”
where there were many people that dealt in
precious second-hand articles.

Since the arrival of that letter four weeks
had elapsed. During all this time Antonio
had not received a single line. Suppose he
were deceived by his brother? Suppose he
were to be left out in the cold with two chil-
dren on his hands, while Fernando was rolling
in wealth? How could he have been so stupid
as to let his brother go off alone with all that
he, Antonio, had earned by risk of life and
limb?

And suppose the police were on his track!
Perhaps Fernando had run away on purpose,
fearing to be caught as his accomplice.

The police! Well, he felt almost sure that
the detectives were after him that very mo-
ment, scenting him as dogs the game.

The perspiration broke out on his fore-
head. He turned back in a fright toward
the shop.

Again he slackened his pace.

“Well,” he said to himself, “what am I
running for? How can they prove anything
AWAY! AWAY! I17

against me? I have no diamonds. No, not
a single one,” he added, bitterly.

Then a new thought struck him. “ The
boy!” he exclaimed, aloud.

He stopped, muttering to himself: “The
boy saw us! I knew from the very first mo-
ment I met him that he would bring bad luck.
He has the evil eye!”

After a moment’s reflection: “He won't
tell, though. I will see about that.”

When the children heard the Italian’s steps
outside, Carlino, without even undressing, hur-
ried up into his berth. Giulia lighted her uncle
in. She then went back into the shop, where
she had her bed.

Hook-nose took a big pull at a whiskey
bottle, which of late he had made his special
friend and consoler.

“ Carlino, my lamb,” he called.

The boy could not believe his ears, the voice
was so mild.

“Carlino, my lamb,” the Italian repeated
once more. ‘Come down. Come in, Giulia.”

The girl came in immediately. She had not
yet undressed herself.

“Giulia, you are a good girl,” Mr. Hook-
118 PAX AND CARLINO.

nose began, in an insinuating tone; “I want
to ask you a question. Did our little boy tell
you about having seen me and your other
uncle with a strange gentleman in the shop at
Columbia? Well, I see he has told you, you
blush,” the Italian burst out, throwing off his
mild manners. ‘ Did he also tell you what we
were doing?”

“No, sir, I assure you he never did. He
said he did not dare to.”

“Well, that was sensible of him,’’ Antonio
said, in a somewhat calmer mood. ‘“ Now you
ask him—I can’t speak his English gibberish—
you ask him whether he would tell anybody
that he saw us together, if they ask him about
ite:

Giulia turned to the boy. A moment after-
ward she replied: ‘‘ He says of course he will.”

“Of course he will oz,’ roared Mr. Hook-
nose, his face plainly showing his rising tem-
per. “You tell him that if anybody asks him
about it, he’ll deny it, he’ll swear by the Holy
Madonna that he zever saw us together. Tell
him that!”

Giulia again addressed herself to the boy.

“Uncle,” she said in a little while, her
AWAY! AWAY! TIQ

cheeks burning and tears starting to her eyes,
“he says he must tell the truth.”

Antonio grew pale with rage, wrenched off
a bar from an empty fruit-crate, and thrust it
so close to the boy’s face that the poor fellow
started back with a gesture of despair.

“ Now, Giulia, tell him to swear by the Holy
Virgin that he never, never saw us. Else this
will be the whip that will teach the dog how
to dance. Well?”

“Pray, uncle, don’t, don’t!’

“Ask him, I tell you! What does he say?”

“He says he must tell the truth. It’s
wrong, he says, to tell a lie.”

“ The rascal!”? Antonio exclaimed, in a fury,
darting at the boy with the impromptu weapon.

It barely touched his neck when the Italian
fell headlong on the floor. Giulia had caught
hold of his leg. He fell with his face on the |
iron stove, so that he roared in pain.

“Come, Carlino, quick!” called out Giulia.

Before Mr. Hook-nose had time to think,
the children had hurried through the shop into
the street. Giulia, who never lost her presence
of mind, had found time to snatch the boy’s
cap from the counter, where it had been left
120 PAX AND CARLINO.

when they were surprised by the Italian’s re-
turn,

Next second they were both running through
the streets. They had no special aim, only

away, away !
CHAPTER XVII.
IN THE HANDS OF THE POLICE.

Two endless rows of gas-jets threw their
yellowish light over the motley crowd in the
market. Clothes and skin varied in every
possible shape and shade. The elegant mu-
latto’s light-brown color and stylishly pointed
mustache, the old negro’s wrinkled black face,
surrounded by gray beard and gray woolly hair
poking out through the holes of a slouchy hat;
whole trousers and ragged trousers; flowery
ladies’ hats, dirty sun-bonnets, and many-col-
ored turbans; a few, very few, white women ;
rows of black urchins eating big pieces of
white sugar—all formed a picture so strange
that it looked like a masquerade. Order was
kept by a black policeman, whose gilt buttons
seemed to be an object of admiring jealousy
to the ordinary mortals.

The market was divided into three differ-
I21
122 PAX AND CARLINO.

ent apartments. One was occupied by fish-
mongers and butchers. On their tables was
spread a large supply of beef and mutton, of
ham and pork, of fish and crabs and turtles.

A striking contrast to this place, more or
less suggestive of blood and carnage, formed
the vegetable market. On high tables along
the walls, in the midst of large -baskets of
sweet potatoes and great piles of cabbages and
artichokes, were enthroned jolly mammies in
broad-brimmed hats or in turbans of brilliant
colors.

In the last division, the poultry market, the
tables were loaded with cages or crates of cack-
ling hens, apoplectic turkeys, speckled guineas,
cooing doves, and philosophical ducks. Whole
lots of live chickens were lying on the tables
with their legs tied together, two and two, like
a gang of criminals.

A short, square negro was just throwing a
bundle of victims, tied in that manner, over
his shoulder, when he suddenly put them
down again. The old mammy that sold them
called out to them, ‘“‘ Look, look!” All faces
turned simultaneously in the same direction.
The talk died away, and there seemed to be
IN THE HANDS OF THE POLICE. 123

a lull in the very cackle of the ladies and gen-
tlemen of the coops. All eyes were fixed
upon a handsome Italian girl and a boy with
yellow locks, running through the market.
They were panting, out of breath, their little
bodies trembling, their faces pale with horror.
They were running wildly, as if persecuted by
some invisible enemy. After them followed
a waddling dachshund, that seemed to share
their terror. The crowd automatically made
room for the children, who ran into the vege-
table market, where they both landed in a
large basket which had for a moment been
left in the middle of the open passage.

The owner of that particular basket, a round
mammy with only two white teeth in each
jaw, which made her look like a pert little
squirrel, called out in a fright, startled at this
sudden mingling of children’s heads and cab-
bage heads. Soon regaining her equanimity,
she climbed down from the table and peeped
into the basket with her bright dark eyes.

“ Bress you’ hearts, honies!” she exclaimed,
“what in de world am de matter? Suthin’
done gone wrong?”

She had not much time to question the un-
124 PAX AND CARLINO.

expected intruders into her basket, for, at-
tracted by the crowd that immediately gath-
ered around the scene of action, the imposing
policeman stepped up with supreme dignity,
asking the children what was the matter.

“© sir, don’t take us back, don’t!” Giulia
pleaded, still sitting in the basket.

Carlino, who now seemed to think that he
would rather risk anything than again be
given up into the clutches of Mr. Hook-nose,
stepped out and stood in front of the officer.
Drawing himself up, soldier-like, as he used
to do before he was crushed by the Italian’s
cruelty, he said, resolutely :

“T don’t want to go back, sir! You may
rather put me into prison for life.”

The policeman smiled with a broad, friendly
grin,

“Cheer up, chicks,” he said, “you nebber
be afeerd. Now, chillen, out wid de story,”
he continued, producing a big black notebook
out of his capacious pocket.

Meanwhile the mammies were already deep
in the discussion of the case.

“ Guess dem be runaways,” said one.

“ Poo’ white trash, dessay,” put in another.
IN THE HANDS OF THE POLICE. 125

“Not so poo’—dem clothes good enough,”
said a third.

“Runaways, anyhow. Guess de constable
oughter take ’em back.”

“ Poo’ things!” rejoined another. ‘‘ My chil-
lens also runaways in de ole times befo’ de
war. Dem boys of mine—de Lord bress ’em!
—runaway niggers. Got hard massa. Some
poo’ white trash no better. Hope constable
not take dem back.”

“Why, ye oughter know dem chillens,”
burst out a new-comer, an old crone in yel-
low turban. “Dey are de chillens wat sing
and play and sell oranges wid little Tom
Lane.”

“Tn course! In course! De berry same!”

In the midst of all this chatter the police-
man was questioning the children. He had
now taken off his cap, and was scratching his
wool with a very concerned look.

“Dis yer name? Written dis way?”

And with a mixture of pride over his being
able to write it and uncertainty as to his hav-
ing spelled it correctly, he showed Giulia his
notebook, where he had written, with big
straggling letters, “Joly Borta.”
126 PAX AND CARLINO,

Giulia smiled: ‘‘ Gzulza Porta, it ought to
be.”

“Porta, Porta!” the policeman repeated to
himself. Where had he heard that name?
“And you?” he asked the boy. “Bress me!”
he exclaimed, without waiting for Carlino’s
answer. ‘Wat's dat ribbon roun’ yer hat?
De ‘ Allonia.’ You’ name Porta? You’ father’s
name Antony Porta, wat came over in de
‘Allonia’? I say, you’ father’s name Antony
Porta?” he asked again, turning to Giulia, this
time with an eagerness that made him quite
forget his dignity.

“No,” said the girl, “he is not my father,
but my uncle. He now calls himself Nino
Simeoni.”

“Well, well, chile, but he zs Antony Porta,
wat came over in de ‘ Allonia’?”

“Yes,” said Giulia, looking. seriously up
into the black face, ‘he is Antonio Porta.”

“D’ye heah?” the policeman called out,
majestically addressing the audience around
him, “d’ye heah? Now me, Mose Linkum,
am goin’ to beat dem stuck-up white detec-
tives as flat as de sole of my boot.”

Having delivered this speech, he triumph-
IN THE HANDS OF THE POLICE. 127

antly marched the children off. When he
turned he almost stumbled on poor Pax.
The dog snapped at the official’s trousers, and
his growl mingled with the laughter of the
bystanders, when the procession moved on in
the direction of the police-station.

At the station the children were again ques-
tioned, this time by the police superintendent,
a middle-aged white gentleman with a very
severe-looking mustache and a pair of clear,
rather friendly-looking blue eyes.

Having motioned to Mr. Moses to retire, he
asked the children a great many questions
about themselves and about Antonio and his
brother. Carlino was very glad that he did
not inquire about that night in the fruit-store
at Columbia. Although he was decided to
tell the truth if asked, his whole frame was
shaken with fright at the thought of the Ital-
ian’s threat of revenge.

The superintendent wrote down many of
their answers in a big book. In a while he
touched the bell. Two policemen immedi-
ately put in their appearance, one of them be-
ing a youngish-looking white gentleman, the
other Mr. Moses Lincoln in person—if possible,
128 PAX AND CARLINO.

still more important than an hour before. The
men stopped just inside the door.

“Come here, Fred.”

A few words were whispered into the ear
of the white constable, who hurriedly left the
room, followed by Moses. ,

“Are you hungry?” the superintendent
asked the children. “All right, you’ll have
something in a minute.”

Another touch of the bell brought a third
individual in blue uniform.

“See about these chicks getting some sup-
per, will you? Here, take this money.”

The man led the children into a small ad-
joining room, and soon brought them their
supper—and a very good supper, too: cold
chicken, rolls, and butter.

Overcome by fatigue, Giulia and Carlino
were both nearly asleep on the bench where
they were sitting, when they were walened
by the rattle of carriage-wheels before the
entrance. Next moment the sound of steps
and voices were heard from the outside room.
The door was opened, and the same man that
had brought them their supper made a sign
to them to come out.
IN THE HANDS OF THE POLICE. 129

In the very door both the children stopped
short, unspeakable horror being written in their
faces. Between two policemen, his back to
the door, his swarthy face turned toward the
table where the superintendent was sitting,
there stood a man whose form was only too
well known to both of them. It was Antonio.

The superintendent was questioning him
through an interpreter, who spoke Italian tol-
erably well. Giulia heard her uncle most en-
ergetically protest that his name was Nino
Simeoni, not Aztonto Porta at all. That was
a name which he now heard for the first time
in his life.

The sound of footsteps on the floor made
Antonio look around. The light from the
gas-lamp fell directly on the children, whose
eyes were fixed on him with the fascination
of horror. The Italian clenched his fists, and
threw up both his arms as if in a fit. With a
glance of passionate hatred, mixed with fear,
he burst out with an oath: ‘Mal’ occhio! mal’
occhio!” (‘The evil eye! the evil eye! ’’)

Then, suddenly biting his lips, he put on a
very different manner, and, turning with cat-

like softness to the children, he called them
K
130 PAX AND CARLINO.

his ‘little lambs,” and said that his heart was
full of sorrow to see them also, like himself,
innocently abused and suspected.

“Stop that nonsense!” sternly interrupted
the superintendent, to whom the Italian’s
words were being translated. “You don’t
fool me. Your name is Antonio Porta. You
are accused of having stolen, among other
things, a golden cross set with precious stones,
a gift to your former master from American
pilgrims visiting his cathedral. Your brother
and a certain Thompson from Columbia have
been trying to sell the jewels in New York.
They are both arrested, and I am going to send
you there, too, by the first train to-morrow.

“ Now, children, step this side,” the superin-
tendent continued; “I want to ask you a few
questions more. I have just received a tele-
gram from the police in New Vork about a
thing that was not mentioned in their first re-
port. Your uncle, Fernando Porta, has con-
fessed that a boy by the name of Carlino—
that is you?—was in the room when his
brother, Mr. Thompson, and himself laid their
plans as to the best way to dispose of the
jewels,”
IN THE HANDS OF THE POLICE. 131

In saying this the superintendent turned a
scrutinizing look upon Antonio. A dismal
leer passed over the Italian’s face.

“Well, my boy,” said the superintendent,
“were you there at the time, and what did
you see? Tell me all about it.”

Carlino turned ghastly pale. He felt An-
tonio’s look of fiery hatred resting on him.
The whole scene of a few hours ago rose be-
fore his mind. He saw the Italian again lift-
ing his weapon against him. Oh, he felt sure
that Antonio’s revenge would reach him sooner
or later. How could he dare to tell what he
had seen?

“Be brave, my boy,” he thought he heard
his father saying.

“Tell the truth, my child—for God’s sake,”
the tender voice of his mother whispered in
his ear.

He almost felt the loving kiss of father and
mother upon his lips.

And the little fellow made his choice. Love
is stronger than the fear of death.

He turned his innocent blue eyes from An-
tonio up to the officer, and told, as well as his
English would allow, what he had seen that
132 PAX AND CARLINO.

night in the back room of the fruiterer’s shop
at Columbia. He also mentioned how the
Italian had threatened him in case he ever
told anybody about it.

Strange to say, now and then the superin-
tendent’s keen eyes were dimmed with moist-
ure. Why? Did he not hear almost every
day, without emotion, accounts a great deal
more impressive than the simple story of that
little foreigner?

“Well, Antonio Porta, what do you say to
that?” asked the superintendent when the
child’s account had been translated to the
Italian.

“T say, signore, that that boy is the coolest
liar ever met. I did not want to bring him
into difficulty, but as I see that there is no
escape for me, I may just as well ease my
conscience, making a clean breast of it. I’ll
tell the whole truth. That boy ’—here the
same leer came back to his face— knew all
about the matter from the very beginning.
He begged to help me in order to get the
very suit he has on. He has always been
awfully vain. Just look at those clothes, sig-
nore—they are worn now, but look at the
IN THE HANDS OF THE POLICE. 133

stuff they are made of. I acted very wrong
in allowing the boy to help me; but I assure
you it was he that begged to be allowed to
creep through the hole we had made into the
bishop’s vault. I took him over with me in
the ‘ Allonia,’ as I would not be so cruel as to
leave him. But he is a sly dog, signore. He
is young in years, but, believe me, he is old in
tricks.”

While this was being translated to the su-
perintendent, his eyes searchingly passed from
Antonio to the boy. Carlino stood there de-
fyingly erect, fixing his blue eyes upon An-
tonio with an expression of astonishment and
indignation. The superintendent slowly turned
his glance upon Antonio’s crouching face.

Then he sat a few moments in silence, his
hand before his eyes.

“You are a consummate liar!” he finally
burst out. “ Put the rascal into cell No. 4.”

The Italian, with a a a air, followed
the constables.

“ Good-by, little ones; one of my men will
take you home.”

And the superintendent’s hand passed with
a fond caress over Carlino’s golden locks.
CHAPTER XVIIL
ECHOES FROM THE NORTH.

IT was evident that Mr. Pax laid claim to a
place among the most conscientious, thought-
ful, and clever specimens of his race. This
he showed by the very manner in which he
pricked up his ears and lifted his head at the
sight or sound of canine sports that might in-
terfere with the grave responsibilities of life.
On such occasions he never showed any in-
clination to mingle in the crowd. He did not
even stir from his place. At the very most
he gave a short, spiteful bark.

Sometimes, it must be confessed, he let the
world understand that he thought himself
rather superior to the human fraternity as
well. This, however, always in a modest and
inoffensive way.

Sure enough, there were occasions when he
proved decidedly superior to the most saga-
cious of men. Must it not have been more

134
L£CHOES FROM THE NORTH. 135

than human intelligence that in some myste-
rious way made him divine the unexpected
changes which had taken place in the Italian
‘fruit store and in the little room at the back
of the shop?

Ever since his arrival in Charleston he had
with wise consistency kept aloof not only
from Mr. Hook-nose himself, but also from
his premises. The very next morning after
the arrest of the Italian he went straight for
the back room, where the children were tak-
ing their breakfast out of a smoking dish of
risotto, Giulia’s masterpiece. Great was the
delighted surprise of his friends when a well-
known black nose cautiously peeped through
the crack of the door. The reconnoitering
nose seemed fully satisfied as to the enemy’s
having deserted the camp, for next moment
the door was pushed open, and with a joyous
bark Pax rushed into the room, wagging his
tail, barking, frolicking, and taking high leaps
with his crooked short legs in order to lick
the faces of Giulia and Carlino.

Then he sniffed around in every corner, as
if he were taking possession of the whole
establishment.
136 PAX AND CARLINO.

Soon afterward Tom arrived with the day’s
supply of milk, his white teeth grinning a
sweeping congratulation.

The little troupe had a jolly time around
their milk and rice. They were all feeling as
free and happy as birds escaped from the
fowler’s net. Carlino’s eyes beamed like stars.
There was something within him that assured
him that he was now fairly on his way home.

Giulia was full of her dignity as the oldest
member of the family. She presently re-
minded the others of business. Her uncle
being in prison was no reason why the fruit
should be allowed to spoil on the shelves or in
the barrels. Besides, they well might need
every penny they could earn. They now
were probably to take care of themselves for
a good long while.

“Come on, you lazybones!”’ she called out.
“Come on! It’s late. Come, Carlino! Come,
Tomino! Come, Paxino! No, Pax, don’t snap,
you'll tear my dress.”

A few minutes later the caravan halted out-
side a large hotel adorned with a magnificent
colonnade of gray marble. Through the broad
entrance one could catch a glimpse of a square
ECHOES FROM THE NORTH. 137

court surrounded by arcades, and shaded by
somber cypresses and by orange trees loaded
with luscious fruit. In the center there was
a fountain. The court was filled with silvery
music when its glittering showers fell into the
encircling basin.

It was not the sight of the beautiful Italian
court, nor the music of the splashing waters,
that made the children stop outside the hotel.
They had seen that sight and heard that sound
many a time before. But to-day other mel-
odies floated upon the air. The subdued
music of the fountain served as accompani-
ment to the voice of a woman, whose sweet
notes were streaming out through an open
window.:

The charm of such singing would indeed in
itself have been enough to make anybody stop
and listen—a crowd was already gathering be-
fore the window. But there was still some-
thing else that made the children halt all at
once, as at a word of command, and kept
them listening with breathless rapture. They
had all at once recognized one of the Swedish
songs which they used to sing themselves at
the Battery.
138 PAX AND CARLINO.

They listened to one verse, then to another,
Carlino almost beside himself when he heard
the well-known words. When the third verse
was sung the children could contain them-
selves no longer. They all burst out, joining
in the refrain, their childish voices mingling
with the singer:

“** Ffail to the beautiful land of the North.’ ”

The singing stopped, and in the open win-
dow appeared a young lady in felt hat and
fur-lined jacket—she evidently was ready to
start from the hotel. She was a true type of
American beauty, with eyes bright and spark-
ling, like stars. She cast one surprised glance
at the children, and left the window. Next
minute her hand rested upon the golden head
of the Swedish boy. Her instinct told her
that it was he who had sung the words in such
pure Swedish. She was a good judge, for
when in Stockholm she had studied that very
song with the most renowned of the native
masters. She had created such an enthusiasm
by the grace with which she had sung it in
Swedish at the opera-house that the whole
ECHOES FROM THE NORTH. 139

audience, young and old, had risen on to their
seats, waving their handkerchiefs. At last the
king, amid a storm of applause, had called her
to the royal box publicly to offer his thanks.

“My little friend,” the singer said, in her
melodious voice, “ you must be from Sweden.
You are a Swedish boy?”

Carlino had not yet happened to learn the
meaning of the word “ Sweden.”

“T am—I am from Sverige,” he faltered.

“Well, that is what I mean. Don’t you
know that Sverige is called Sweden in our
language? I suppose your father and your
mother are living here at Charleston, are they
not?”

“No, no,” the boy answered, looking sadly
up into the kind face of the young lady, “my
parents are not here. They are at home, in
Sverige.”

“You don’t mean to say that you are alone
here?”

“No, not alone,” Carlino answered, pointing
to his comrades, a pleasant smile stealing over
his face. “I am with Giulia and Tom and”
—hesitatingly—“ and Pax.”

As soon as the latter individual heard his
140 PAX AND CARLINO.

name, he felt called upon to take part in the
conversation. He corroborated the boy’s
statement by a short, decisive bark.

He did not, however, succeed in attracting
the attention of the lady. Without heeding
him, she said in an eager way:

“Well, I see that you are with these chil-
dren; but they are not your family? How
did you come here?”

“Stolen. I was going

“Stolen!” the young lady burst out.
“Stolen! You don’t mean to say that you
were taken away from your parents?”

“Yes, I was. Woman took me.”

“Wave you no relations in this country?”

“Yes, an uncle. They said he lived in
Columbia, but he didn’t.”

At this juncture the group was joined by
the police superintendent.

“Excuse me, madam,” he said, politely
touching his hat to the singer, whom he
seemed to know, “I am just looking for these
children. JI come from the house where they
live, but they had already gone out. I want
to know something about this little boy. I
was so taken up yesterday by arresting an

”


ECHOES FROM THE NORTRH. I4I

Italian, with whom he has been staying, that
I put off until to-day finding out about him.
He’s a fine little chap,” the superintendent
added, in a lowered voice. ‘“‘ His sad face has
been haunting me all night.”

And he related in a few words what had
happened at his office the night before.

“Don’t you know anything at all about
him?” the singer asked.

“Nothing, except that he and the other
children have, of late, been selling oranges in
the streets.”

“What is his name?”

“Tt is Carl—Carl something—what is it,
now? What is your name, my boy?”

“Carl Ros,” answered Carlino, who had
been standing in mute expectation by his little
friends.

“ Carl Ros!” exclaimed the singer. ‘‘ I have
got it! Do you know, sir, that boy’s uncle
must be Mr. Carl Ros of Maine. He is quite
a character—the ‘Music-worm,’ as we call
him. I think I have heard that he was a
Swede by birth. The village where he lives
is called Columbia. You know about him,
don’t you?”
142 PAX AND CARLINO,

“No, madam; not that I know of.”

“Oh, but you do! The retired railway
man, you know. You must have read about
him in the papers. He never leaves his house,
but he pays thousands of dollars every year
to have the very best music performed at his
house. He never sees anybody, not even
the performers; but when they give concerts
in his big music-room, he always sits in a
latticed box arranged in one end of the
room.” .

“Oh, I see—Doc Ros!” retorted the super-
intendent. “Of course I know about him.
It is only a few days since I read about his
friendship with Ole Bull.”

“Well, that was before he was quite as
queer as he is now. Ihave never seen him
myself, but we are great friends all the same.
I have sung several times at his house, and
he has written me such charming little letters.
Is your uncle fond of music, little boy?”

“Very, very fond,’ answered Carlino.
“Father sings many songs that uncle has
written. Father has them bound in blue and
gilt. He has told me that uncle sang better
than all the other students when he was at
ECHOES FROM THE NORTH. 143

Upsala. He is a great singer, Uncle Carl is.
He is very, very old. Father says he might
be my grandfather.”

“Oh, itis he! it is he!” the lady exclaimed,
clapping her hands, and fairly dancing before
the eyes of the astonished crowd, which, by
this time, almost filled the street. ‘“O sir,
you must write to him immediately. T’ll also
write a few words on a card.”

She drew out of her pocket an ivory card-
box and wrote rapidly with a jewel-studded
pencil.

“Emma, Emma, hurry—the "bus is start-
ing!”

An elderly lady was just being helped up
into the yellow omnibus, already almost filled
with passengers. The singer hurriedly handed
the card to the superintendent, and stooped
down and kissed her little Swedish friend.

Next moment, light as a bird, she stepped
into the omnibus, which rolled away, followed
by the wondering looks of the children and
the official bark of Mr. Pax.

In the omnibus the great singer secretly
wiped away a tear that was nearly dripping
from her black eyelashes.
144 PAX AND CARLINO.

She smiled at herself for being so “ soft,”
as she called it. Had she not often been re-
minded of that beautiful far-away country
and its hospitable people without the least in-
clination to shed tears?
CHAPTER XIX.
“OLD DOC.”

THE reason why Carl Ros, Esq., was known
in the village of Columbia, Maine, by the
name of “ Doc Ros” is wrapped in mystery.

One thing appears to be certain: the title
had been shortened into this off-hand familiar-
ity from the more respectful “ doctor.” The
whole community had a vague idea that the
“Music-worm” in some way or other was
connected with the medical fraternity.

This was a mistake, and a radical one. For
the “ Doc,” being by profession a consulting
engineer, knew far better how to mend the
machinery of a steam-frigate than how to
splinter a broken leg or tend a case of the
grippe. Worse than that, there were three
things in this world that he hated: foremost
among them, for some unknown reason, physi-
cians, or, as he called them, medicine-men;
next in his disfavor were dogs, because of
their lack of respect for his flower-beds; the

L
146 PAX AND CARLINO,

third class of beings which he could not en-
dure were beginners on the piano.

The dogs Old Doc had managed to exile
without a single exception. He paid quite a
large sum into the public treasury of the vil-
lage on condition that no dogs were allowed
within the precincts. To the young ladies of
all the houses within ear-shot of his villa he
gave handsome presents of gold watches or
jewel rings, on condition that no piano was
touched except between six and seven in the
afternoon, during which hour the Doc with
the regularity of clockwork retired into his
bedroom for an after-dinner nap. He had
also tried to buy off the village physician, but
failed through the stubborn resistance of the
female part of the community. All he now
could do was never to call in medical assist-
ance, either for himself or his servants.

The.old gentleman’s originality showed itself
very plainly in his outward person. His tall,
thin form was on all occasions dressed in gray
homespun, manufactured for his special bene-
fit, and exactly of the same color as his bushy
hair and close-cut beard. His small, intelli-
gent eyes were also of grayish color. To some
‘OLD DOC." 147

extent they had taken the fashion from the
Chinese, being set rather obliquely, and al-
ways sending scrutinizing glances toward the
point of a long, straight nose.

Old Doc had just come in from his day’s
walk in the garden, where roses and straw-
berries were soundly sleeping under the win-
ter’s downy covering of glittering snow. As
it was rather cold, he rubbed his hands and
drew the big mahogany chair near to the fire,
which spread its glow over the backs of books
arranged in a very orderly manner on brown
oak shelves, covering the walls from floor to
ceiling. The books were chiefly on music,
engineering, and gardening, the greater part
perhaps on music. The Doc stretched out his
hand to take down from its place of honor
Beethoven’s Sonatas, which he read as people
in general read beautiful poems. As he was
opening the volume he cast his eye on a letter
which had been laid on his table. It was
postmarked Charleston, South Carolina.

“Charleston! Why, I don’t know a soul
down there!” he muttered to himself. ‘ Some
crazy inventor, I suppose, that wants money
to start his perpetuum mobile.”
148 PAX AND CARLINO.

He very deliberately cut the envelope with
his pocketknife. A visiting-card dropped out
and fell to the floor.

“Oh, my little Emma!” he said, brighten-
ing, when he had taken it up. ‘‘ What does
she want?”

He put on his spectacles in order better to
read the writing.

On the card were only these words, evi-
dently written in great haste:

“My DEAR Mr. Ros: I have found him.
He is a darling.”

“Pshaw! pshaw! what does this mean?”
growled the old man. ‘Is she engaged to be
married?” he thought to himself, adding aloud,
and solemnly shaking his head: “ Foolish!
foolish!”

The letter he supposed, of course, to be
from Miss Emma’s aunt, who always traveled
with her. Great was his perplexity when he
read at the top of the letter: ‘“ Police Head-
quarters, Superintendent’s Office.”

“Well, I declare! Am I not right in my
mind, or are they hoaxing me? Po-lice-head-
“OLD DOC.” 149

quar-ters,” he repeated, with a contemptuous
sniff at every syllable.

While reading, his expression grew more
and more serious. He sat for a long while
silent, with the letter in his hand.

The situation was novel, and, he thought,
anything but pleasant. The superintendent
offered, on the receipt of a telegram, to send
Carlino, without delay, to his uncle. A boy
in the house!
poke into everything, put the books out of
order, step on the flower-beds, touch the musi-
cal instruments, which adorned the walls and
filled every nook and corner in his parlor.
Next to a dog, a small boy seemed to him
the most undesirable member of a household. -
Old Doc almost wished that the letter had
allowed some doubt as to the identity of that
boy.

Again, it was his brother’s only child. And
‘the boy’s mother was the youngest sister of a
lady that he, “Old Doc Ros,” had loved in
the prime of his manhood—loved without her
even knowing how his heart beat for her.
She belonged to a family of twelve, and was
twenty years older than Carlino’s mother.
150 PAX AND CARLINO.

But the portrait of this sister, whom he had
never met, was the very picture of her—the
fair young blossom long ago smitten by the
frosty breath of death.

The sharp gray eyes of the “Old Doc” |
actually looked mild when he took down
from the mantelpiece for closer inspection a
cabinet photo ina gilt frame. It was the pict-
ure of his brother’s wife with her boy on her
lap.

He looked at them both for a few moments,
and then put the picture down on his desk.
With a hand trembling either from age or
emotion, he wrote a few words on a tele-
graph-form. He touched the bell, and the
call was answered by an old man-servant,
dressed, like his master, in gray.

“Here, Peter, take this to the telegraph
office,” Old Doc said, in Swedish.

“Yes, master. Anything else?” the ser-
vant asked, also in the sonorous language of
the far North.

“No, no—hurry!”

The sound of Peter’s feet died away on the
outside steps. Old Doc once more took up
the photo, looking at it with renewed interest.
“OLD DOC.” I51

“T actually believe the boy is like fev!” he
thought. ‘Same bright, free look.”

Suddenly he started, dropping the photo on
the table before him so carelessly that a piece
of the gilding fell off from the frame. He
hurried out into the entry, and, opening the
street-door, called out, “‘ Peter! Peter!” Then
he rushed into the street, running along bare-
headed, not heeding the persons he met, nor
the lookers-on that appeared in the windows.
At last, quite out of breath, he succeeded in
attracting the attention of his servant.

“That won’t do,” he said, snatching the
telegram out of his hand. ‘“ Why, Peter,
send a poor little boy alone all the way from
South Carolina to Maine! That’s nonsense,
Pete; you are a fool!”

So he walked back by the main street, all
the time scolding his poor Peter, as if the tele-
gram were the fault of that innocent indi-
vidual.

Shortly after their return to the house Peter
posted off with a new message to the police
office of Charleston. It was very short:

““T start to-morrow to fetch the boy.”

The news spread like wildfire in the village
152 PAX AND CARLINO.

that Old Doc Ros not only had been outside
the gate for the first time in several years, but
that he had been running bareheaded down
to the corner of the street, and walked back,
scolding Peter all the way along. What could
be the reason? A cyclone or an earthquake
—at least, a little one—would have been more
in the order of nature.

The gossips went late to bed that night,
and tossed restlessly on their pillows before
they could go to sleep. “Old Doc has gone
crazy,’ was perhaps the thought that most
generally crept into their minds, when, at
last, sleep crept over their eyes,

Old Doc himself very nearly came to the
same conclusion. He went about in a very
bad humor, spluttering and muttering all by
himself.

“T go traveling!” he said. ‘“ Haven’t been
outside the garden for twelve years. Pretty
business! Run like a fool in the streets, too.
Might just as well have let that telegram go.
May change my mind yet. Would have been
time enough to send another message when
Peter had come back. You have gone crazy,
old boy, crazy!”
CHAPTER XxX.
“T AM YOUR UNCLE.”

THE children were taking their supper in
the little room at the back of the shop. Be-
tween every morsel they were eagerly discuss-
ing a most interesting topic—Carlino’s future. :

A week ago they had been told of a tele-
gram from his uncle. Giulia, who had a great
deal of imagination, pictured that gentleman
as a stately old patriarch with a white beard
flowing down his breast. He was to come
with his servant in livery to take Carlino to
his villa, which would be like “a regular palace
—the palace of a prince.”

“But yet he is no real prince,” she added,
with the Italian’s admiration for their nobility,
“not like our princes—J nostri principi Ita-
liani.””

A cloud passed over her face. ‘“ My, what
shall Tom and I do when the old man takes
you away ?”’

153
154 PAX AND CARLINO.

The thought of separation threw a dark
shadow on the beautiful picture.

“Tl take you with me,” Carlino said, with
an assured air, which, however, did not even
assure himself.

Anyhow, they soon dismissed their anxieties,
their attention being drawn to Pax, who under
Tom’s command was showing off his tricks.
Tom was putting a piece of bread on the end
of the black nose and making the dog wait
patiently for it until they had all counted very
slowly up to five. ‘Once more, Pax! One,
two, three ” Bow-wow. ‘No, Pax! Wait,
Pax! Naughty dog!”

But on this occasion the dog did not mind.
He pricked up his ears and barked anxiously,



as if suspecting danger.

The children listened. Carlino thought he
had heard a noise outside; the others denied
it. As none of them noticed anything further,
they resumed their talk. Pax alone seemed
uneasy. He was sure there was something
strange coming on.

Suddenly the dog jumped up and gave an-
other loud bark of warning. He had noticed
that the little window high up on the wall
“I AM YOUR UNCLE.” 158

was almost wholly filled up by a dark face,
with its nose pressed against the pane and
two sharp eyes looking into the room. Giulia
was just rising to take some bread from a
shelf. At the barking of the dog she turned
her eyes toward the window. The loaf dropped
out of her hand; pale as a sheet, she sank
down on her chair, gasping, ‘‘ Uncle Antonio!”

When the others mechanically looked toward
the window the face had disappeared.

While the children were sitting there silent
as mice, in a fright that made them hear the
throbbing of their own hearts, the cause of
their anxiety on his side of the wall felt any- |
thing but comfortable. He was a tall, some-
what bent man, wrapped in a gray ulster.
His appearance did not in the least resemble
Antonio, whom Giulia in her sudden fright
thought that she had seen. His face was an
old one, with a close-cut gray beard. He
stood in a very embarrassing position, press-
ing himself close to the house, and looking
almost as frightened as the children.

Old Doc—for it was he—had been looking
at the little group with very mixed feelings.
For the sake of his brother and sister he was
156 PAX AND CARLIINO.

glad he had found the boy, whom he had im.
mediately recognized from the likeness. On
the other hand, it struck him most unpleas-
antly that he was going to take the respon-
sibility of that child for weeks, perhaps for
months, until his father could come over and
fetch him home. And then the question on
hand was how to get hold of the boy. Three
children and a dog in that small room! How
could he, Carl Ros, old bachelor and dog-hater,
make up his mind to appear on the scene
under such circumstances?

Most likely the old gentleman would have
turned back to the hotel and sent one of the
servants for the boy, had he not been so sud-
denly discovered. The fault all lay with that
abominable dog. Just when Pax in his solemn
way was sitting with a piece of bread on his
nose, the cold night air made the old gentle-
man sneeze; the dog, startled, began to bark,
Old Doc was discovered, and involuntarily
frightened the children “ almost to death,” as
he feared.

He had seen the girl sink down, deathly
pale. Perhaps she was even now lying in a
faint. Old Doc felt like a cruel tyrant, who
“7 AM YOUR UNCLE.” 157

might at any time be reported to the Society
for Prevention of Cruelty to Children.

Of course, under present circumstances, he
could not run off, leaving the children all to
themselves. Neither did he dare to look
through the window, lest he should give
them another fright.

So, after much hesitation, he had to knock
at the door. No answer. He gave another,
very loud, knock. Giulia arose to open. An-
tonio, as she supposed, having escaped from
prison, it would be wiser, she concluded, to
let him in before he was ina rage. So, with
her heart in her throat, she undid the door.

Great was Giulia’s relief when she found
that it was a stranger. To be sure, he did
not look very attractive, but she preferred any-
body to Antonio. Pax, of course, made a rush
at the stranger’s legs, but Giulia caught him
by the collar and succeeded in pacifying him.

Old Doc stood awhile hesitating what to say.
At last he blustered out:

“Boy, Iam your uncle. Keep off the dog,
I tell you!” he called out gruffly to Giulia,
when Pax showed a tendency to begin a new
- attack.
158 PAX AND CARLINO.

It was happy for the old gentleman that the
bad behavior of the dog drew his attention
from the children. The way they looked at
him was anything but flattering to his pride.
None of them could in the least conceal their
disappointment. This was the uncle! Fare-
well to all their castles in the air. A for-
bidding old fogy in gray clothes, instead of a
princely old gentleman with the beard and
bearing of the Doge of Venice.

His nephew naturally felt the situation even
more keenly than his friends. He felt him-
self responsible for this much-thought-of and
much-talked-of uncle. He blushed and looked
defiantly at him, as if unwilling to accept him
as his “ American uncle.”

“Do you hear what I am saying?” Old
Doc asked, with a good deal of irritation in
his manner.

Carlino did not answer.

“ Look here, boy, do you know this lady?”
asked the old gentleman, a smile involuntarily
passing over his lips at the sight of the boy’s
resolute demeanor.

Carlino took the photo from the hand of
Old Doc.
“7 AM YOUR UNCLE.” 159

* Mother!” he burst out, in a voice which
in itself would have been witness enough that
he was her son.

“Well, Iam your uncle,’ Old Doc said, in
Swedish, with a milder tone of voice.

Carlino, with his firm, soldierly step, went
to the old man, caught hold of his big hand,
and, Swedish fashion, kissed it as a sign of
kinship and reverence. Then he turned up
his face, expecting his uncle to kiss him.

Old Doc looked shy as a young lady, the
red color rising in his cheeks under the brown
skin. For half a century or thereabouts he
had never kissed anybody, and during such
a long period one forgets the art. Besides,
would he not in this way lose all respect with
the boy? A vision of trampled flower-beds,
of scattered books and torn leaves, floated be-
fore his mind. Then, too, there was the pub-
licity of it. There were six pairs of eyes, the
dog’s included, watching him.

It was a rash thing to do. Old Doc shook
his head in his peculiar way, and muttered,
“ Foolish, foolish!”

“Well, come on, boy, let’s be off,” he said,
dryly.
160 PAX AND CARLINO.

“We are having our supper, little uncle,”
Carlino objected. “Are you not hungry?
Take some tea, please.”

The old gentleman looked amused. It was
such a novel experience that he made up his
mind to see how it would turn out. He sat
down on a chair, and, obedient as a lamb, ac-
cepted a plate of polenta and a cup of tea
served in a dainty manner by Giulia, Tom
offering him the bread and Carlino the butter.
All rivaled one another in politeness. Their
guest submitted to his fate with a funny mixt-
ure of embarrassment and pleasure. He did
not say much himself, but listened to the chil-
dren, who were soon talking like regular chat-
terboxes.

At last Old Doc found that he must retire
to his hotel. Should he leave the boy where
he was over night? Well, he—he could not.
In order not to expose himself to any objec-
tions, he told him in Swedish, very sternly, to
bid good-by and come along.

He noticed the tears rising in Carlino’s eyes.
He turned away; he did not care to look at
them.
“I AM YOUR UNCLE.” 161

“May I come back here to-morrow, little
uncle?” Carlino asked, meekly.

“You may.”

This promise relieved the boy’s mind.

“Good-night, Giulia. Good-night, Tom.
Good-night, my little Pax,’ he called out,
quite merrily. ‘“Tll see you to-morrow.”

At the hotel the Doc told the head-waiter
to have a small bed placed in the room where
he was to sleep.

Both the Doc and Carlino had been in bed
sometime, when there was heard a very sus-
picious scratching at the door.

“Little uncle,” the boy whispered in Swed-
ish, “little uncle, are you asleep?”

“What is it, boy?”

“ Little uncle, excuse me. Do you hear
that? It is Pax. It is our dog. He wants to
getin. May I open?”

Now this was a little too much for Carl Ros,
Esq., even if he Aad kissed his nephew. _

“Tut, tut, nonsense, boy! I hate dogs!
Go to sleep,” he said, not caring to conceal
his irritation.

Carlino did not stir. He lay dumb and still

M
162 PAX AND CARLINO.

in his bed, thinking. He hoped that Pax
would go home to Giulia. If it were not that
his uncle was to take him to his father and
mother, he too would run off to the little
room at the back of the shop. This big room
with carpets and mirrors and easy-chairs was
a very cruel place, where there was not even
hospitality for his beloved Pax.

For a good while he lay listening. No
sound was heard. Then once more the paws
of the dog scratched the door—very pitifully,
the boy thought. He turned around in his
bed, burying his face in his pillow, so that
nobody should hear him sobbing.

It seems that Old Doc must have managed
to hear it, though, some way or other, for
after a while, when there seemed no hope of
it stopping, a gaunt form rose from his bed,
groped in the dark for the door, and opened
it. The boy felt something jumping up on
his bed, and a warm little tongue licked his
hand. When he lifted his head from the pil-
low he saw his uncle, who had now lighted
the gas, standing by his bed.

Carlino stretched out his hand, and, Swed-
ish fashion, patted his uncle’s arm, repeating
“7 AM YOUR UNCLE.” 163

several times, “ Little uncle, thank you, little
uncle.”

While he said this Old Doc stooped down,
looking very much as if he wanted to give him
another kiss. The stern old man must have
been too shy, though, for such sentimentalities.
He abruptly left the boy and turned out the
gas.

In the night Old Doc talked in his sleep.
“Tittle uncle! Little uncle!’’ he repeated,
and a smile stole over those lips with their
stiff gray mustache.
CHAPTER XXI.
TRAMPS AND VAGABONDS.

THE engine gave a shrill whistle and puffed
out a hissing white cloud; the train began
slowly to move.

Old Doc, bound northward, was seated in
one of the sleeping-cars. His tall, bent form
looked even more extraordinary than usual,
the slouched gray hat being pulled down over
the eyes, and a faded red handkerchief around
the thin neck having replaced the collar.

Close by the old gentleman a yellow-haired
boy was looking through the carriage-window,
waving both his hands to an olive-skinned
Italian girl and a black boy. Opposite Old
Doc on the red plush seat there lay a dachs-
hund grave as an alderman.

The Doc actually pinched himself to make
sure whether he were awake or asleep.

If somebody had come to the old gentle-
man’s house three weeks ago, prophesying
TRAMPS AND VAGABONDS. 165

that he soon would be traveling around the
country with a boy and a dog, he would have,
almost literally, kicked such a person out into
the street. Now he only had to stretch out
his hand to stroke the head of his nephew or
to catch hold of the round, provokingly spirited
tail of Mr. Pax.

No wonder that, for a moment, Old Doc
thought himself in such bad company that he
wished the whole affair really would turn out
to be a dream.

“What are you doing here?” said a gruff
voice, close to the Doc’s ear. A heavy hand
was laid on his shoulder, in a way that plainly
proved that this occurrence did not belong to
the misty realm of dreams.

The old gentleman looked up. It was the
conductor, who came to punch the tickets. The
Doc instinctively began to search his pockets.

“You are not going to have a berth in the
sleeping-car—you and the dog and that long-
haired son of an organ-grinder?” the con-
ductor continued, with a contemptuous sneer.
“Well, where is your ticket? Hurry up!”

The Doc was all the time searching his
pockets.
166 PAX AND CARLINO,

“T declare!” he suddenly exclaimed. “I
did not buy any tickets.” Pointing to Car-
lino and Pax, “I was so taken up with those
youngsters that I forgot all about it.”

“ Stuff and nonsense!” said the conductor.
“Come along with me, you old vagabond.”

The Doc, strange to say, looked amused
instead of angry. He arose, giving the con-
ductor a quizzical look, which did not improve
that gentleman’s temper. As Old Doc did
not move fast enough, the conductor, to the
like disgust of Pax and Carlino, caught the
uncle by the collar, leading him most uncere-
moniously through the passenger-cars into
the baggage-car, where he sat him down
upona trunk. There he left him and his pro-
tégés, calling out as he disappeared: “ Now
fix your fare, I will be back directly. No
dead beats on this line, sir, nor any tramps in
the passenger-cars.”

In a few moments the conductor came back.

“Fare ready?” he asked, in the same in-
solent manner. “If you can’t pay I'll set you
down right here on the road.” .

Carlino was looking on with a concerned
air. His uncle was very slow, quite unnat-
ZTRAMPS AND VAGABONDS. 167

urally slow, in producing his pocketbook. In
fact, he simply stared at the conductor, with-
out stirring at all, measuring the young man
from head to foot. The boy became fright-
ened. Supposing his uncle had not taken
enough money with him, or that they had
stolen it from him? What if he could not
pay the fare? Then, all of a sudden, his blue
eyes brightened; he colored up and timidly
put his hand on the gray sleeve of the old
gentleman.

af re uncle,” he said, in Swedish, “7 have
money.”

The Doc gave a blank baie

“What do you mean? Money? What
money?”

“Why, money for the fare, little ade. In
case you haven’t any—haven’t enough,” he
shyly corrected himself.

Old Doc began to realize the situation.

“Oh, you have money for the fare, my
little man?” he said, in English, with a hu-
morous glance at the conductor. ‘“ Enough to
take us clear up to Maine, I suppose. Where
is it?”

Carlino in great haste unbuttoned his jacket.
168 PAX AND CARLINO,

Three well-worn round marks in the band of
his trousers revealed the place where Giulia
had sewed in the pieces of gold given him by
the mate of the “ Allonia.”

“Wealthy, isn’t he? Three whole quar-
ters!” the Doc said to the conductor, over the
head of the boy.

“Let me have your knife, little uncle, and
I'll rip them out.”

“No, no, keep your cash, my boy. Handy
purse, isn’t it?” the Doc said, again trying to
open a conversation with the surly conductor,
who was impatiently hammering with his
punch-pliers on a wooden box.

“None of your tomfoolery, old vagabond!”
was the only reply. “ Fish out the money, or
I'll set you down right here on the road, as I
have told you.”

Old Doc was losing his patience. He looked
obstinate, as though he were never going to
“fish out the money.” The color rising in
his brown cheeks showed that his temper was
up. Then his eyes happened to fall upon
Carlino’s frightened face. The old gentleman
somehow did not like to have a quarrel before
that innocent-looking nephew of his, so he
TRAMPS AND VAGABONDS. 169

changed his manners, and smiled, half humor-
ously, half sarcastically. The ludicrous side
of the situation again struck him.

“Well, sir, we will see about the fares,” he
said, meekly, taking out a well-worn pocket-
book—* we'll see about it.”

Now, as the Doc had not been traveling for
years, he had, in starting from home, armed
himself with bills enough to take a trip around
the world, and to pay a princely ransom for
his nephew into the bargain. He turned over
the one-hundred-dollar greenbacks slowly,
very slowly, as if looking for smaller bills.
Now and then he glanced sideways toward the
conductor, to see how it struck him. That
young gentleman did not look comfortable at
all. He began to perspire, and finally, with
an effort, he broke out:

“II beg your pardon, sir.”

“Well, you don’t deserve it,” said Old Doc,
dryly. ‘The ‘ old vagabond’ ought to report
you to his old friend the president of this road.
I will forgive you, though, for the sake of this
boy and his dog. It is but fair to look upon
them as extenuating circumstances. I myself
don’t approve of going traveling around the
170 PAX AND CARLINO.

country in this mixed company. But I warn
you, young man, I warn you: don’t call peo-
ple dead beats, or tramps, or vagabonds, with-
out asking their permission. Such free elo-
quence will turn out badly in the end.”

The shamefaced conductor again stammered
an excuse, and very politely asked the Doc to
return to the sleeping-car. The old gentleman
refused with a very decided, ‘No, szvr/ It is
more comfortable here, where we have a whole
car to ourselves. It will soon be time to go
to bed. You see about our berths being in
order.”

So the three amused themselves in the
baggage-car. A lively but rather one-sided
conversation was kept up. The Doc asked
Carlino brief, not to say curt, questions about
his father and mother. The boy, chattering
in high spirits, gave very elaborate answers,
which showed a remarkable facility in skipping
from his parents to their calves, their chickens,
their dogs, and their horses. The chief reason
for his thus straying from the point was per-
haps that the very mention of his father and
mother brought a troublesome lump into his
throat.


Page 171.

D ON ‘THE EDGE.”

RCH

“THE BOY SAT PI
TRAMPS AND VAGABONDS. 171

Pax, who had been patiently listening, at
last called attention to his being too much
neglected. He did so by putting his spotted
brown forepaws up on Carlino’s lap. The
boy, repentant, asked his uncle’s permission to
show off the tricks of his little companion.
Great was his joy when the uncle condescended
to smile at them, and even muttered to him-
self, “ Clever rascal.” Carlino did not lose his
opportunity, but immediately begged for Pax
to sleep at the foot of his bed. The uncle
looked out of patience, but yet answered in
the affirmative: “Well, I suppose there is no
getting out of it.”

Old Doc was already undressed, lying ready
for the night on the lower shelf, when Carlino
in his stockings, holding Pax with one arm,
climbed the little ladder, in order to take pos-
session of the upper berth. The boy sat for
a good while perched on the edge, his feet
swinging to and fro with the movement of the
cars. His thoughts were very pleasant. Like
birds of passage, they were all taking flight
toward the far north. Suddenly, however, he
started and slipped right down under the
blanket. Sleeping that way on the top of
172 PAX AND CARLINO,

another person reminded him of his shelf over
Antonio’s bed. Poor Giulia! Suppose An-
tonio had come back! The thought made
him shudder. Meanwhile Old Doc, with a
feeling of tenderness, which he found rather
annoying, had been looking at the little feet
swinging close to his pillow. Just when their
owner so suddenly pulled them in, the light
from the lamp in the ceiling revealed to the
old gentleman that the black stockings cover-
ing those feet were in a very sad plight: big
holes at the heels, big holes at the toes.

This plain fact set him thinking. Was not
the wardrobe of his nephew sadly dilapidated ?
That blue jacket of his was threadbare in many
places; it was full of green or yellowish spots.
The ‘nephew of Carl Ros, Esq., before that
gentleman’s very eyes looked shabby-genteel
—there was no use denying it. ‘Son of an
organ-grinder,” that was what the conductor
had called him. Organ-grinder! The blood
fairly burned in the old gentleman’s cheeks.
That was it! The most despicable creature
under the sun, the very worst caricature of the
noblest thing he ever knew here below, of |
Music herself, No, this would never do! . It
TRAMPS AND VAGABONDS. 173

would never do to come home with his own
brother’s child looking like that. But how
could it be helped? He didn’t understand
about children’s stockings.

The poor old man worked himself up more
and more about the impossibility of going
around the shops in New York, buying chil-
dren’s garments, stockings and shoes and jack-
ets, and, perhaps, even pinafores! Old as
he was, he would much rather build a new
railroad under the burning sun of the desert.
Was he, then, doomed to all the cares of mar-
ried life, without its joys?

Just as, half asleep, he began to feel quite
desperate about his new responsibilities, a
happy thought struck him. He could tele-
graph for Peter. Peter should meet them in
New York. This idea gave him relief. ‘“ Bravo,
old Peter!” he said aloud.

By that time a plan had matured in Carlino’s
anxious brain. He had just been wondering
whether his uncle were still awake, when he
heard his exclamation. He leaned his curly
head over the side of the bed.

“Little uncle!”

“ Aren’t you asleep?” the Doc answered,
174 PAX AND CARLINO.

in an abrupt tone, which betrayed his irritable
mood.

“No, little uncle; I want to ask you a
question.”

“Go on.”

“May I use that money of mine any way I
choose ?”’

* Of course you may.”

* Are you sure you won’t be displeased ?’’

“Not a bit. It’s your own money.”

“Thank you, little uncle.”

And the golden head disappeared without
further explanation.

This reticence nettled the uncle. His curi-
osity had been awakened. He was too proud,
though, or too shy, it might perhaps be called,
to ask any questions. So he had to go to
sleep without any idea of what the boy meant
to do with the money from the “ Allonia.”
CHAPTER XXII
“SAVE HIM!”

CLoups of black smoke whirled out from
the windows in the third story of a big hotel
in one of the busy streets of New York. Next
moment there was heard a hissing sound like
a gust of wind in the tackle of a vessel at sea,
the veil of smoke burst, and out of its dark
mass there shot blood-red tongues of fire, that
hungrily licked the wall, rising almost at once
up to the roof of the high building.

Carlino was down in the vestibule, looking
at the guests who were walking up and down
in the spacious colonnade. Suddenly a ter-
tible noise was heard from without. Carlino
rushed to the door. He saw the fire brigade
dashing along the street, saw the reflection of
the fire on the opposite wall. The firemen
halted outside the hotel, the policemen pushed .
back the crowd, and next minute the thump-
ing and rattling engines directed a powerful

175
176 PAX AND CARLINO.

stream of water on the hotel. Carlino looked
up: a sheet of fire covered the whole upper
front of the building. The thought of his
uncle flashed through his mind. It was just
the time in the afternoon when he had his
usual rest after dinner. The boy turned into
the house and ran upstairs, not heeding the
people that were hurrying down. In the third
story the passages were all filled with smoke.
A waiter who was rushing down tried in vain
to catch hold of the boy, and called out after
him to come down. Carlino did not heed his
warning. Panting and blinded by the smoke,
he pushed on, undaunted.

The heat grew as he approached his uncle’s
room. He groped along in the dense smoke,
and at last succeeded in finding the handle of
the door. He threw the door open and rushed
through the anteroom into the bedroom be-
yond. There was very little smoke in there,
and the heat was much less oppressive. He
drew a long breath, calling out, “ Uncle! little
uncle!”

No answer—the room was empty. Back
he flew, but, opening the outside door, he was
met with such a fierce heat that he had to
“SAVE HIM!” 177

shut it immediately. He had just had time
to see small flames peeping mockingly out
through the cracks of the door on the opposite
side of the passage.

When he came back to the inner room there
was something that touched his leg. He
looked down and saw Pax, who had come,
whimpering, close up to his master. This
unusual behavior, more than anything else,
made Carlino realize the situation. Horror
seized him. He knew instinctively that he
was caught inadeath-trap. He stretched out
his hands and called out in agony.

Strange to say, this fear soon passed away.
He had a vision of his father on horseback, as
he liked so much to see him; then he felt the
hand of his mother coolingly laid on his fore-
head; he heard her breathe into his ear the
prayer she taught him when he first began to
talk.

Then again he thought he heard his uncle
calling his name, but it sounded far, far away.

This last was a fact. The old gentleman
had been aroused at the very beginning of the
fire, and hurried down to find his nephew,

whom he had told Peter to leave in the vesti-
N
178 PAX AND CARLIINO.

bule. The Doc looked around in vain for the
boy. Running upstairs, he met the waiter
that had tried to stop Carlino. When the old
man heard this story, he was for a moment
perfectly stunned. Then he made for the
passage in the third story. He found it filled
with smoke, now and then lit up by a gleam
of fire. He rushed blindly into it, but was
caught by a pair of strong arms. It was a
fireman, who kept him back, calling out, “ Hold
on! No road this way!”

Old Doc for a moment got back the strength
of his youth. He wrenched himself away
from the strong young man, tearing his coat
in so doing, but only to stumble into the arms
of another fireman, who had been managing
the hose in the dangerous passage. The two
firemen were too much for the old man. He
was carried down, calling out, ‘ Carlino!
Carlino! Save him!”

It was this Carlino had heard. The sound
of his uncle’s voice brought him back to con-
sciousness. Mere child as he was, the strong
instinct of self-preservation made him look
around for some means of escape. Then he
happened to cast his eyes on his uncle’s um-
“SAVE HIM!” 179

brella, which was lying on the floor. Now,
with Carlino and his playmates in Sweden it
had been a favorite sport to use an umbrella
as a kind of parachute. In that way he had
often jumped from a considerable height with-
out hurting himself. He had also heard of
a boy who had saved himself in this way at
a fire in Stockholm. Putting Pax inside the
wide sailor jacket his uncle had given him, he
climbed up to the window, threw it up, and
opened the umbrella. The moment he ap-
peared at the window there arose from below
the alarmed murmur from a thousand voices.
Then there burst from the multitudes a fren-
zied shout: “ Wait! Wait! Don’t jump!”

The people knew what Carlino did not know,
that the firemen were hurrying to his rescue
with their high ladder.

The crowd did not know that to wait even
a single minute would be to wait too long.
The fire did not wait; it was approaching with
rapid strides. When the cry, “ Wait! Wait!”
rose from all those uplifted faces, over which
the red light shed a rosy color, the heat burst
open the door behind the boy, and a long
tongue of fire stretched out across the room |
180 PAX AND CARLINO.

to the window, singeing his yellow hair. Car-
lino gave a scream of anguish, and jumped
out. A cry of terror went up from below.
But his fall was broken by the improvised
parachute. The firemen rushed to the side-
walk, and when the boy fell, he fell into their
arms. One of the men lifted him tenderly,
just as he fainted away, and carried him off to
the ambulance cart.

When he returned to consciousness, he was
lying in bed, Pax was napping on the floor,
and his uncle—this time, in his torn clothes,
looking decidedly like a “tramp and a vaga-
bond”’—was leaning over him, bathing his
forehead.
CHAPTER XXIII
A LETTER WITH A “ POSTFISCUM.”

Pax’s remarkable knowledge of human
nature proved an ignominious failure in re-
gard to Old Doc.

Sure enough, at their first acquaintance Pax
had labeled the old gentleman a dog-hater of
the approved type. Later, however, he had
his misgivings as to this estimate being correct.
When he and the Doc were alone, the old man
often had a fierce look, as if he were still full
of ill-will. Again, as soon as they were a
party of three—in other words, when Carlino
was with them—the uncle seemed quite an-
other person. He behaved very respectably,
not to say amiably. Once when Pax was
lying on Carlino’s bed, putting his head up
against the sick boy’s cheek, it had even hap-
pened that the Doc had stroked Mr. Pax’s
back, to Carlino’s delight, calling him “ good
dog!”

181
182 PAX AND CARLINO.

Out of all this Pax had drawn the conclusion
that there must be great contradictions in the
character of old bachelors such as Carlino’s
uncle. Further he was not able to make
out.

Poor Pax, no doubt, would have been very
much mortified had he known that the old
doctor disliked him in the bottom of his heart
just as much as ever, and only hid his real feel-
ings in order to ingratiate himself with his sick
nephew. Pax did not discover this, and he
never suspected that it was only through a
compromise that he was tolerated at all. He
had very nearly mercilessly been left to shift
for himself among the negroes and “ poor white
trash” of South Carolina. Carlino, crying,
had told his uncle that he could never leave
either Pax or Giulia. He could leave Tom,
as he was living with his mother, but “ never
Pax, never Giulia.” His uncle in hasty mood
vowed that he would take neither one nor the
other. Finally a treaty of peace had been
made on condition that Giulia should be left
and Pax be taken.

This had been accepted after a consultation
between Giulia and Carlino. Both thought
A LETTER WITH A “POSTFISCUM.” 183

that Pax would have great difficulty to get
along all alone. ‘“ Besides,” Carlino said ex-
cusingly to himself, “ Pax is an older friend
than Giulia.”

No wonder that he felt a pang whenever he
happened to think of the possibility of Anto-
nio’s coming back to Giulia. Was it not
almost his fault that she was left down there?

That was why he had made up his mind,
while on his journey from Charleston, to see
about mending matters as soon as possible.
For several weeks, though, he had been pre-
vented by illness from attending to his plan.
He had been so weak that two doctors had
been to see him almost every day. They
were so nice, he thought. He only wondered
why his uncle never wanted to be in the room
when they came to see him.

Carlino had not heard what his illness was
called. He had only overheard the doctors
saying that “the fire had been too much for
him.”

Oh that fire! Often in the night he had
been startled by hearing the rattling and
clanging of the engines, he had seen flames
bursting out from the opposite wall, and in the
184 PAX AND CARLINO.

midst of them the dark eyes of Antonio burn-
ing more fiercely than the fire itself.

Now he was better. His uncle was so kind
to him. So was Peter. Both assured him
that he was soon to see his parents.

It was also great fun to get anything he
wanted in the line of playthings and picture-
books. His uncle had told Peter to let him
have carte blanche.

One day Carlino, lying half awake, over-
heard Peter in an irritated tone saying to his
master: “Mr. Ros, at this rate you will spoil
our boy.”

“Hush! hush!” answered the uncle.
“Don’t you see that he is awake?”

Then both went into the next room.

While Carlino was wondering what this
meant, his uncle came back, very red in the
face.

“T say, boy,” he said, gruffly, “I’ve told
Peter he is to do anything for you you want.
But you are not to get spoiled, mind.”

Encouraged by his uncle’s promise, Carlino
made up his mind to ask a greater favor of
Peter than he had ever done before. As soon
as his uncle had gone out for his walk, he
A LETTER WITH A “POSTFISCUM.” 185

called Peter and explained to him his plan with
the money. It was now kept, with several
additional coins and even greenbacks, which
his uncle had given him, in a good leather
purse instead of in the lining of his trousers.
He handed the purse to Peter.

“Uncle has given me leave to do anything
I choose with all this money. He won’t be
displeased at all. Now, little Peter,” the boy
continued, “please get pen and paper. I am
going to have you write a letter for me in
English, for you know English so well. Little
Peter, PI tell you in Swedish.”

Peter got paper, pen, and ink, and, sitting
by Carlino’s bed, wrote in big CHES: and with
very queer spelling:

“ DEAR GIULIA: I want you to come and
stay with my little uncle. Uncle is very good.
He lets me have anything I want. For I have
been very ill after a big fire. It is the train
for Columbia in Maine. Uncle’s name is the
same as mine, Carl Ros. Ask for his house.
I hope you'll get there before us. I want to
give uncle a surprise. The money is all my
own. Some of it is the money that you sewed
186 PAX AND CARLINO.

into my trousers. Uncle says I can do any-
thing I like with it. If you have found my
pocketknife that I left, bring it with you.
“Your loving friend,
“CARL Ros.”

When Peter had read the letter to him,
Carlino lay for a moment with a puzzled look
on his face.

“Tt is very good, little Peter,” he said. “I
thank you very much. But there ought to be
something more. There always used to be in
mother’s letters, when she read them aloud to
father. There ought to be a—a—there ought
to be a postfiscum.”

“ Postscriftum,’’ Peter corrected.

“Well, yes. . But, oh dear, what shall IJ
write? Now I know. Please write.”

“P. S—If the money is enough for two
tickets, ask Tom to come along, if his mother
allows. Uncle would be sure to like a nice
black boy to sell his oranges.”’

Faithful Peter hesitated whether he ought
to tell his master about this letter or not. He
A LETTER WITH A “POSTFISCUM.” 187

was very much attached to his master, but he
disagreed with him on educational matters.
He was provoked with him for spoiling the
boy. It was weakness bordering on insanity,
he thought.

The malicious idea struck him that here was
perhaps the means of curing his master.

“No, I won’t tell him,” he said to himself.
“Tam told to do anything the boy asks me
to. Let them come. It serves the old man
right. He’ll have three of them on his hands.”

Peter enjoyed this prospect very much. He
went alone to the post-office, chuckling all by
himself: “Good, good! He’ll have three of
them! TZhvree of them!”’

While Peter in high spirits hurried down to
the post-office, Carlino, also in a very happy
mood, called Pax, who, with some difficulty,
leaped up on the bed and nestled close to his
master. As Carlino’s thin hand was stroking
his black coat, Pax’s little heart was filled with
happiness. Life seemed indeed worth living.
It would be a pity to waste time worrying
one’s brain about the intricate character of

Old Doc.
CHAPTER XXIV.
TWO SURPRISES.

CARLINO and his uncle had to drive three
miles from the railway station before they
reached the little village of Columbia.

The Doc’s return had been very long de-
layed. Even when Carlino was able to leave
his bed, the doctor would not allow him to go
direct to Maine. He was ordered to stay for
a couple of weeks in a health-resort on the
Hudson. His uncle railed against doctors,
one and all— regular quacks,” who did not
understand that the air up there was a very
panacea for any invalid, especially for a Swede
—‘almost his own climate; they ought to
know as much as that.’ However, upon
Peter’s asking him whether he was prepared
to take the murder of “ that boy of ours” upon
his conscience, he meekly ordered their trunks
‘to be packed and labeled for the place pre-
scribed by the physician.

188
TWO SURPRISES. 189

Now all these worries were a thing of the
past. Every step of the horses brought Old
Doc nearer his home, and this made him look
upon the world with a kindlier eye. Peter
also seemed more like himself than for many
a long day. As for Carlino, his cheeks once
more had grown round and ruddy. The hope
of being sent home to his parents made him
unusually gay. So they were, all three of
them, like birds let loose out of a cage.

It was difficult to say who was the happiest
of this jolly company. Perhaps Carlino, whose
heart fairly leaped within him with joy when
the road turned toward the sea; for there he
verily thought that his own dear Sverige
(Sweden) had sailed over the ocean to greet
them. The same rocks, overshadowed by
oaks and dark-green firs, the same inlets with
deep-blue waters, the same barricades of
islands floating on the waves. In one place
they even passed a river where big timber was
swimming toward the sea. In the distance
rose the blue ridge of Mt. Desert, where the
snow was still lying in streaks down the sides
—no, it was not snow, after all, only. white
clouds, that soon disappeared.
1gO PAX AND CARLINO.

Old Doc enjoyed his nephew’s rapture with
keen delight. The old gentleman looked very
much changed for the better. Not that the
furrows, which hard work and care and disap-
pointment had graven on his forehead, had
disappeared; but the light of love and a sub-
dued joy that often came into his gray eyes
spread the sunshine of a late spring over his
wrinkled face.

“T want to ask you one thing, my boy,” he
said, in a voice that sounded somewhat husky.
“T have not done it before, because that fool
of a doctor told me never to mention that fire
as long as we were in his so-called health-
resort where they put you, instead of giving
you the fresh air up here. Well, what I want
to know is this: why did you rush back that
day into our room? You ought to have had
sense enough to know that it was dangerous,
and that I should be angry with you.”

Carlino blushed. He looked down, as if
acknowledging that the rebuke was well de-
served,

“Well, you see, little uncle,” he faltered,
“T thought I—I didn’t know—I thought per-
haps you were—well, little uncle, it was for
TWO SURPRISES. IgI

your sake,” he stammered out at last, in a
pitiful way, which formed a great contrast to
the usual free-and-easy manner in which he
had begun to treat his venerable uncle.

“Well, I almost. thought so,” was all that
Old Doc answered. He turned hastily away.

After some minutes he broke the silence:

“T have a surprise for you, Carlino.”

“What is it, little uncle? Is it a horse?
Or perhaps ”

“No, you must not ask me. It is a very
nice thing. Only don’t drop your old uncle’s
acquaintance altogether when you get it.”

“Why, uncle, I love you—almost as much
as father—first father and mother, and then
you.” Then, looking mischievously up into his
uncle’s face: “I have a surprise for you, too.”

“Well, what is it?”

“No, you must not ask me,” and he put his
little hand before his uncle’s mouth.

When Peter, who was sitting on the box
by the coachman, heard this conversation, he
began to shake in a very queer way. It was
not at all his ordinary mild chuckle. It was
a real out-and-out laughter, which he had to
Suppress with an almost superhuman effort.


192 PAX AND CARLINO.

He knew both the surprises. He especially
enjoyed that which awaited his master, as he
had from the very beginning lent a hand in
preparing it.

‘Hush! Strains of music float on the air.
They seem to come from the walk, shaded
with oaks, which leads up to Old Doc’s house.
Sweet music! Where had he heard that sung
before? A-negro melody! Now he remem-
bered. It must have been under the magno-
lias of beautiful Charleston.

Once more the old gentleman had to make
sure that he was not dreaming. Could it be
the dotage of old age?

The music followed them. The coachman
had been told by Peter to drive slowly. When
they came to the little open place just in front
of the house, Peter gave Carlino a sign, and
he joined in. Mr. Pax seemed also to have
been expecting a signal, for he gave a glad
bark, and out from the shade under the green
boughs skipped an Italian girl and a jet-black
negro boy, singing all the time, in no way dis-
concerted by the shock that the sight of them
evidently gave the old gentleman in the car-
riage,
TWO SURPRISES. 193

Peter lifted down Carlino, who rushed to
greet Giulia and Tom. When Old Doc wit-
nessed this.scene, he drew a long breath. It
was something: between a sigh and a chuckle.
He was resigned to his fate. Besides, oughtn’t
he gladly to do anything for the boy and his
little friends—that “boy of ours,’ who had
been willing to sacrifice his life for him, the
old bachelor?

“Tt was all my money, little uncle,” Carlino
said, hurriedly—‘‘I mean, for their tickets.
Are you displeased, little uncle?”

“No, child,’ said the uncle, abruptly.
“Now for your surprise, my boy. Come
along.”

Carlino followed him up to the door. There
his uncle suddenly turned around, pushing the
boy in front of him close up to the door, which
flew open as if by magic. In the dimness of
the vestibule Carlino saw a gentleman and a
lady.

Next moment he was pressed to his mother’s
heart, his arms around her neck.
CHAPTER XXV.
UNDER THE MAPLE.

Two months later “ our boy,” with his par-
ents and his uncle, sailed for Europe.

During all the years he had lived in Amer-
ica, the Doc had never revisited Europe and
his old country. Even now it was only with
great difficulty he could be persuaded to do it.

“T must stay at home to look after the chil-
dren,” he declared, with a grim smile.

However, in the end he could not resist his
young sister-in-law, whom he treated with a
most gallant consideration.

“ But I only want to stay a very short time,”
he said.

“Why?”

“Because the atmosphere of a monarchy
does not agree with my digestion,’ Old Doc
answered, with a humorous solemnity.

As soon as he had decided to leave home
he sent one of “the children,” Giulia, to Bos-

194
UNDER THE MAPLE. 195

ton, to get her musical education from his
old friend, Miss Emma. Tom was to have
another kind of education. He was left in the
hands of Peter, to be trained in the double
capacity of waiter and gardener.

Life is sometimes more rich in surprises than
anything that can be invented.

When Carlino and his parents drove up to
the old place by Lake Melar, they saw a
stranger under the linden-trees. It was a
tall form, with a long black robe and broad-
brimmed black hat, adorned with purple tas-
sels. Carlino immediately recognized the mon-
signore. He pulled off his hat, and, without
a sign of shyness, swung it around, hurrahing
at the top of his voice.

It was a picture that Carlino’s parents never
could forget when they saw the dark Italian
prelate putting his hand, with a blessing, on
their boy’s yellow head.

The papers said that the monsignore had
come to see the midnight sun. The reverend
gentleman himself gave quite another version.
He said that he had come on purpose to ask
from Carlino’s mother the permission to keep
“an odd visiting-card,” a little black stocking,
196 PAX AND CARLINO.

which he had found tucked into his bed, when
“gold-head, as we used to call him,” had run
away from the episcopal palace.

As for Carlino’s mother, her heart was filled
with a gratitude too deep for words. Her
favorite place was on a seat placed at the foot
of an old maple. While sitting there with her
work, her eyes would follow her lost boy, now
safely at play on the lawn. One day he left
Pax, with whom he had been frolicking, and
sat down by his mother’s side.

“What is my boy thinking about?”

Carlino looked up at his mother, his face
beaming within its frame of yellow curls.

“Why, I was thinking, mother, that I am
the happiest person there is in the world.”

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