At last Derby arose to leave.  And then, although he was not of the Roman faith, he swiftly bent and kissed the ring on the thin, white hand that had been placed in his own.  Into the archbishop’s eyes came a look of tenderness that yet seemed tinged by a vague fear, as he laid his free hand on the bent head and gave his blessing, “Deus te benedicet, meum filium. May you fulfil your hopes for my people in safety!” Very slightly the old man’s voice broke.

Derby stood at his full height, towering by head and shoulders over the archbishop as he again thanked him for his hospitality and his protection.  He walked back to the inn, his mind full of many things.  At the ufficio della posta he glanced up, hesitated, and then, with a smile, went in and wrote out the following telegram: 

“MISS NINA RANDOLPH,
“Palazzo Sansevero,
“Rome.

“Send immediately by express one good Rochester
burner lamp and barrel of kerosene to

“Sua Eminenza,
“L’Arcivescovo di Vencata,
“JOHN.”

CHAPTER XXI

THE SULPHUR MINES

It was nearly nine o’clock the next morning before Derby’s party was ready to start.  The pack mules, with a bulging load on either side, looked like great bales on legs.  Long steel pieces needed for the drills were strapped lengthwise between two mules.  The saddled animals, which were to carry the members of the party were held at a short distance while the men were seeing to the final preparations.  Four horses had been procured for Derby, Porter, Tiggs, and Jenkins; the carabinieri had their own horses, and Padre Filippo his mule.

As it happened, the priest had come to Vencata the evening before, so that the archbishop had been able to turn over at once to his especial guidance the Americanos who had been sent by the Blessed Virgin to rescue the bambinos from the inferno of the mines.  Padre Filippo was short, rotund, with a ruddy complexion and a cheerful crop of carrot-colored hair.  The two carabinieri were splendid specimens of men, but after all, to say carabinieri is enough:  for the Italian cavalry must stand not only a physical, but also a moral examination that goes back three generations.  It is not sufficient for a candidate to be above suspicion himself; his father and his father’s father must have been so as well.  These two men were both over six feet, lean and dark-skinned, with that trace of the Arab which one sees all through the people of Sicily; and they were silent and serious, in great contrast to another type of Sicilians who smile much.  They wore the carabiniere uniform for the mountain districts—­a double-breasted coat with two rows of silver buttons, coat tails bordered with red, two strips of red down the trouser seams, a visored cap, and high black boots.  They were mounted on magnificent black horses, with rifles hung across their saddles.