She made haste to take off his knapsack, and under his direction she dressed the ugly wound in his thigh.  Her fingers, only used to rough work, moved clumsily, but she managed to make him a little more comfortable.  He smiled up at her bravely.

“Poor little one, you are tired.  Go and eat,” he whispered.  And Lucia, after she saw his head sink back on the pillow, found a stale loaf of black bread and began to munch it slowly.

The soldier pointed to his knapsack and told her to eat whatever she found in it.

“There should be some of my emergency rations left,” he said faintly.

Lucia found some dried beef and offered it to him, but he shook his head and asked for a drink of water.  She gave it to him, but his eyes closed and his head fell back as he drank.  She ate all the beef and a cake of chocolate that she found; and then went to the door to look out.

Cellino was enveloped in smoke and she could not see the gate.  The guns were barking, and little spurts of white smoke seemed to punctuate each separate fire.  Away to the east the enemy’s guns were still booming.

Lucia realized that a hard battle was under way, and that it would be useless to try to get help until there was a lull.  She returned to the room and looked down at the soldier.  He was moaning softly, and his eyes looked up at her beseechingly.

CHAPTER XI

THE AMERICAN

“Are you suffering very much?” she asked softly.

The man nodded, his eyes closed, and a queer pallor came over his face.  Lucia was suddenly terrified.  She felt very helpless in this battle with death, but her determination never left her.

She ran to the door.  Poor Garibaldi was still standing hitched to the stretcher.  Lucia went to her and led her back to the door of the cottage.  She looked half-fearfully, half-angrily at the town above her.

“He shall not die!” she said between her teeth, and went back into the house.

The transfer from the bed to the stretcher was very difficult to manage, for the poor soldier was beyond helping himself.  But Lucia succeeded without hurting him too much, and once more the strange trio started out on their climb.

They were in no great danger, for only an occasional shell burst near them.  The fighting was going on below the east wall.  Lucia and Garibaldi toiled up the hill, each one using every bit of their strength.

[Illustration:  “Lucia and Garibaldi toiled up the hill, each one using every bit of their strength.”]

The soldier was limp and lifeless, his head rolled with every bump.  He looked like one dead, but Lucia refused even to consider such a possibility.  She urged Garibaldi on and tugged with determined persistence.

They were just below the wall when Lucia stopped to rest.  The little goat was staggering from the exertion, and she was out of breath.  She looked at the gate, it was only a little way off, but it seemed miles, and she wondered if she could go on.