Lucia ran around the house and off to the sunny slope where she had left Beppi a few hours before.  She saw the flock of goats grazing, and called, “Beppino mio, where are you?”

No one answered her.  She hurried on, believing him to have fallen asleep.

“Beppi!” she shouted, “I have something exciting to tell you.  Stop hiding from me.”

She waited, but still no answer came.

In a sudden frenzy of fear she began running aimlessly up and down the hillside, and looking down into the tall grasses, but there was no sign of Beppi.  There were no trees or houses in sight, no place that he could hide behind, nearer than the mountain path at the foot of the valley.

Lucia looked about her despairingly, then she went over to the goats.  Garibaldi was not there.

“She has strayed away, and Beppi has gone after her,” she said aloud in relief, and returned to the cottage.

Nana nodded when she explained.  She was busy tying up the household treasures in sheets, and Lucia helped her.

Every few minutes she would go to the door and call, but Beppi did not reply.  The afternoon wore on slowly and a bank of rain clouds hid the sun.  Lucia’s confidence gave way to her first feeling of terror, and Nana was growing impatient.

“Where can he be?” Lucia exclaimed.  “I am frightened, he has been gone so long.”

Nana shook her head.  “He was off after the soldiers, I suppose,” she replied.  “He is always disobeying—­no good will come to him and his naughty ways.”

Lucia’s eyes flashed.

“He is not naughty,” she protested angrily, “and he may be lost this very minute.  Anyway I am going to find him and I am not coming home until I do.  If you are afraid to stay here go to Maria, she and aunt will look after you, and when I find Beppi I will meet you there.”

Nana Rudini protested excitedly, but Lucia did not wait to hear what she said.  She ran out of the house and down the road towards the footpath.  She had no idea of where she was going, but fear lead her on.  Beppi, her adored little brother, and Garibaldi were lost, and she was going to find them.

At the end of the road she paused and looked ahead of her.  The sky was dark with rain-clouds and thunder rumbled in the west, an echo of the guns.  Lucia took the path that she had taken early that morning, and as she climbed up the steep ascent she called and shouted.  Her own voice came back to her from the flat rocks ahead, but there was no sound of Beppi.

Instead of going on to the little plateau where she left her pails, she branched off to the left.  It was hard climbing, and after repeated shouts of “Beppi,” she sat down and tried to think.

Big drops of rain were beginning to fall, and with the sun out of sight the fall air was damp and cold.  She pulled her thin shawl around her shoulders and shivered.

“If Garibaldi ran away she came up here; she always does,” she argued to herself.  “She loves to climb, and she must have come this way in the hope of finding grass.  Up above, and a little over to the left, there is a sort of sheltered spot.  Perhaps—­” she did not finish the thought, but jumped up and started to climb.