Lucia looked towards the west.  None of the guns that were there the night before could be heard.  With a throb of joy she realized that the booming now came from the town.

“Had the Italians crept up and into Cellino during the night?” The very idea was so exciting that she could not rest until she made sure.

She stood up and walked over to the road.  The gate had an odd appearance in the half light.  She walked up the hill a little way, rubbing her eyes as she went.  Something behind the wall seemed to appear suddenly, emit a puff of smoke, and then disappear.

Lucia had never seen a big gun in her life, and she did not know that one was hidden securely in the cover of the wall near the ruins of the church, for so quietly had the great monster arrived, and so stealthily had the soldiers worked, that its sudden appearance seemed almost a miracle.

Lucia put it down as one, and offered her prayer of thankfulness from the middle of the muddy road.  Then the work at hand took the place of her surprise, and she ran back to her wounded soldier and roused him gently.  He opened his eyes; they were bright with fever, and he tossed restlessly.

Lucia tried to move him, but could not.  He was very big, and she could not pull him as she had the slender Roderigo.

As she stopped to consider, the walls of Cellino suddenly seemed to let loose a fury of smoke and flame.  Nothing that had happened during the day before equalled it.  The big guns boomed and the smaller ones sent out sharp, cracking noises that were even more terrifying.

Poor Lucia dropped to her face again, and Garibaldi cowered beside her.

Nothing seemed to happen.  The shells did not fall near them as she had expected, and after her first fright had passed, she got to her feet again.

Tugging at the soldier was useless, and an idea was forming in her mind.  She ran as fast as she could up the hill to the cottage, calling Garibaldi to follow.

At the shed she stopped and looked at the door.  It was light, and she soon tore it away from its support.  Then she went into the cottage and came back with a rope.  She made a loop and put it over the goat’s head.  Then with two long pieces she contrived a harness and hitched the door to it.  One end dragged on the ground, and the other was about a foot above it.  The rope was crossed on the goat’s back and tied firmly to the long ends of the door that did duty as shafts.  Garibaldi was too disheartened to protest, and Lucia had little trouble in leading her down the hill.

The soldier was delirious when she reached him, but he was so weak that it was an easy matter to roll him on to the improvised stretcher.

Lucia took hold of one shaft, and with Garibaldi pulling too, they started off.

It was a long and weary climb, but at last they reached the cottage.

The terrible jolting had been agony for the soldier.  He regained consciousness on the way, and from time to time a groan escaped him.  But when he was in the house he did his best to smile, and crawled onto the mattress that Lucia had pulled to the floor.