Chapter 2

Tonio peered into the cart. He even thrust his long, lean hand into the straw that covered the floor, and felt about the corners, while the boys wriggled away from his touch like eels from a landing-net. Gigi held his breath. But Mother Margherita would not tamely endure all this.

"Get along, you vermin!" she cried, striking at his hands as he approached the forward end of the cart. "Can't you see that the boy is not here? What would he be doing in my cart, anyway? I'll trouble you to let us go on our way in peace. My man in the house down yonder will be out to help us with his crossbow and his dogs, if we scream a bit louder. Be off with you, and look for your boy in the village. Is it likely he would have come so far as this, the poor tired little lad?"

"The others are searching the village," growled the Hunchback tipsily. "They'll find him if he's there. 'Tis likely you are right. And then! I must be there to help at the punishing. Oh! that will be sport!--Have any other teams passed you on the road?" he asked suddenly. "Have you overtaken no one on foot?"

"We have passed no one," said Mother Margherita truthfully, starting up the oxen. "Hiew! Hiew! Go on! go on," she clucked. "We must get home to bed."

The Hunchback withdrew from the cart unsteadily, and mounted his donkey. For a moment he looked doubtfully up and down the road, then he turned the poor tired animal's head once more toward the village, and they began to plod back up the slope.

"The Lord forgive me!" whispered Mother Margherita piously. "I told a lie, and before my children, too! But it was to spare a child suffering, perhaps death. Surely, the Lord who loves little children will forgive me this sin."

So the good woman mused, as, faint with terror and gasping for breath, Gigi came out from under her skirts. He handed back the bag of silver, and gave a sigh of relief. The little boys seized him rapturously.

"You are saved, Gigi!" cried Paolo.

"He will never find you now," said Giovanni.

"See, we are almost home! You shall come and live with us and teach us how to tumble!" cried Beppo, hugging his new friend closely. But Mother Margherita interrupted him.

"Not so fast, not so fast, children," she warned. "Gigi is saved for now. But we may be able to do little more for him. Your father is master in the house, remember. Your father may not be pleased with what we have done. Never promise what you may not be able to give, my Beppo." And she fell to musing again rather uneasily.

The boys were all suddenly silent, and Gigi, who had warmed to their kindness, felt a sudden chill. He had not thought of anything beyond the safety of the moment. He had made no plans, he had only hoped vaguely that these good people might help him. But now, what was to happen next? Was there still something more to fear?

Suddenly the flash of a lantern lighted the road ahead. A man's voice hailed them loudly. "Hello! Hello! Will you never be coming home?"

"Father! It is father!" cried the three boys in an answering shout. Then with a common thought they all stopped short, and Gigi felt them looking at him in the darkness.

"What will he think of Gigi?" he heard Beppo whisper to his brothers.

"Sh!" warned Mother Margherita. And the man's voice sounded nearer.

"Hello, old woman!" it called gruffly. "Well, you did come back, didn't you? I began to believe that you had all run away."

"Run away!" There was a little pause before any one answered. And Gigi felt the elbows of the boys nudging him in the side.

"Father's angry!" they whispered. "Father is terrible when he is angry. You had better look out!"

Then Gigi knew that there was something else to fear that night. And his heart sank. Was there to be no end of his troubles?

VI

THE SILVER PIECE

The team stopped in front of a stone cottage, from the window of which the light shone hospitably. They all jumped down from the cart, and under cover of the darkness Mother Margherita hustled Gigi with the other boys into the house, while Giuseppe, the father, cared for the oxen.

The mother busied herself in preparing supper, and the boys scattered about on various errands. But Gigi sat in a corner by the fire, too tired to move or speak. He had thrown off his long cloak, and the fire glanced brightly upon the green and gold costume of this quaint little figure, so out of place in the simple cottage. Presently Giuseppe entered with a heavy tread, and paused in amazement at what he saw on his hearthstone.

"Hello!" he cried gruffly. "What's this?"

Mother Margherita came forward quickly. "It is a little tumbler," she said. "We saw him do his tricks at the market to-day. The Gypsies beat him, and he has run away. Let us give him at least supper and a shelter for the night, Giuseppe?" Her tone was beseeching.

"Hum!" grumbled Giuseppe doubtfully. "A runaway! A tumbler! A thief, I dare say, as well. A pretty fellow to bring into an honest man's house! His master will be after him, and then we shall all get into trouble for sheltering a runaway. Margherita, you were always a foolish woman! Is this all you have to show for market-day? Where is the money?"

"Here it is, Giuseppe," said the mother, handing him the bag of silver, which he thrust into his pocket. "Now let us have supper. You can count the silver afterward, and we will tell you about everything when that is over."

With a very bad grace the father watched the little stranger timidly take his place at the board between Paolo and Giovanni, Beppo crying because he could not have the tumbler next to him also.

There was much to talk about at that meal. They had to describe the holiday at market, which was a great event for the little family. Then there were the Tumblers; and the adventure of Gigi and the Hunchback,--that was the most exciting of all. And how near they came to losing the bag of silver which they had earned by selling their vegetables at the market! Giuseppe asked Gigi many questions, not unkindly, but with a bluntness that made the boy wince. And often Mother Margherita spoke up for him, with a kind answer. Gigi grew paler and paler, and his food lay almost untouched on his plate. He was too tired to eat.

At last, when supper was finished. Mother Margherita rose and lighted a candle. "Come with me, Gigi," she said, "and I will show you where you are to sleep this night."

Gigi followed her readily, glad to escape further questioning, and eager to rest his aching head. The little boys called after him a hearty good-night. But Giuseppe saw him go without a word, casting sidewise looks after the retreating figures, and grunting sourly.

There was no room for Gigi in the loft where the family slept. But out in the stable, beside the oxen, was a fresh pile of straw, a fine bed for the tired little wanderer. When Mother Margherita had bidden him a kind good-night and had closed the stable door behind her, Gigi threw himself upon the straw and was almost Instantly asleep. The oxen breathed gently beside him, chewing their cud. Everything was still and peaceful. And the night passed.

"Cock-a-doodle-doo!" crowed the first cock, speaking the same tongue that he learned at the beginning of the world, and that he always uses in every land, among every people.

It was but a few moments later when Gigi was awakened suddenly by a touch on his shoulder. The boy opened his eyes and stared about, bewildered. He did not know where he was. Who was this bending over him in the dim light? Not Tonio; not Cecco; not the Giant? Then he recognized Mother Margherita, stooping low with a pitiful expression on her face. She had a little bundle in her hand.

"Get up, Gigi," she whispered. "You must be off. My man is so angry! He vows he will take you to the village to-day and give you up to your masters. He thinks you are a thief, Gigi. But I do not believe that you stole the silver piece."

"The silver piece!" cried Gigi, still more bewildered.

"Sh!" cautioned the woman, laying a hand on his lips. "Giuseppe must not know that I am here. He sleeps still. When we counted the money in the bag we found it short by one piece of silver, besides the one I gave you. That was my own to do with as I chose. But he believes that you stole another when you were holding the bag for me, hiding under my skirts."

"I did not take it!" cried Gigi, wide-awake now. "Oh, I would not steal from you,--not from you, the only person who was ever kind to me!"

"There, there! I told him so!" said the good woman soothingly. "I told him I must have lost it at the market when I was making change for somebody. But he will not believe. You must be off, Gigi, before he wakes, or you will have to go back to those cruel fellows. Giuseppe is so set! Like a mule he is when he is angry!"

Gigi sprang to his feet and looked wildly around. "Where shall I go? What shall I do?" he asked.

Mother Margherita looked at the pale little lad and her eyes filled. "Poor little fellow!" she sighed. "Suppose you were one of my boys, Beppo or Paolo! But we must lose no time"; and she dashed the tears from her eyes. "Here is your cloak to hide that gaudy dress. And here is a bundle of food,--all I could spare without the good man's knowledge. For it must seem that you have run away of your own accord. I know that will make him sure that you are a thief. But I dare not let him guess that I have warned you and helped you to escape. You do not know Giuseppe's anger!--Farewell, dear little lad, and may the Saints have you in their keeping."

She led him to the door and pointed out the direction, in the gray dawn. She showed him where, to the north, by a great tree, a lane branched from the highroad. "Follow that," she said. "It will be safer in case you are pursued. And it comes at last to the great road into another country. There perhaps you will be safe and find friends who can help you more than I have done. Though none can wish you better." And she hugged him close. "Farewell, Gigi!"

VII

THE WANDERER

With a lump in his throat, Gigi left the only roof that had ever shown him kindness. In the gray dawn he crept out to the highroad. There was no time to be lost, for already the east was growing pink, and soon the sun would be making long shadows on the open road. Giuseppe would surely spy him and bring him back.

As soon as he was outside the farm enclosure, Gigi began to run. But he found that he was stiff and sore from his fall of the day before, and from the many beatings which he had received of late. Every bone in his body ached, and especially his head, which throbbed so as to make him faint. Still he ran on. For more than anything else he feared being captured and sent back to the Gypsies.

At last Gigi came to the great tree where branched the cross-road to the north. Here he turned aside. Then he drew a deep breath, feeling safer. He ceased running, and presently, being hungry and tired, he sat down upon a stone and opened the bundle which Mother Margherita had given him. He found bread and cheese, and began to eat greedily, until he remembered that he knew not where he should find dinner and supper. He looked at the remnant of bread and cheese longingly, but at last wrapped it up and put it back into the little pouch which, as was the custom in those times, he wore at his belt.

The lane upon which he was now traveling was shadier than the highroad, and as he went on the trees grew even taller and bigger. Apparently the way was leading through the outskirts of a forest. The lane was more crooked, also. Gigi could not see far either before or behind him, because of the constant turnings.

Suddenly, he stopped short and listened. There was a sound; yes, there certainly was a sound on the road behind him,--the noise of galloping hoofs.

Gigi was seized with a panic. Without stopping to think, he plunged from the road into the forest, and began to run wildly through the underbrush. He did not care in which direction he went,--anywhere, as far as possible from the pursuing hoof-beats.

On, on he plunged, sometimes sprawling over roots of trees, sometimes bruising himself against low branches or stumbling upon stones which seemed to rise up on purpose to delay him; torn by briars and tripped by clutching vines. But always he ran on and on, this way and that, wherever there seemed an opening in the forest, which was continually growing denser and more wild.

How long he wandered he did not know. The sun was high in the heavens when at last, wholly exhausted, Gigi fell upon a bank of moss. His weary bones ached. He was too tired to move, but lay there motionless, and presently he fell into a troubled sleep. When he awoke with a start, it was growing dark, and he was very hungry. He felt for the pouch into which he had put his bits of bread and cheese, but it was gone! He must have lost it when pushing through the bushes.

What was he to do? He knew he must find his way back to the highroad, where he could perhaps beg a supper at some cottage. But how was he to know which way to go? He looked up and around him in despair. He was in the midst of the wildest kind of forest. The trees grew close together, and there was no path, no sign that men had ever passed this way.

Moreover, it was growing darker every minute. Already the shadows behind the trees were black and terrible. Gigi suddenly remembered that there were fierce animals in the forests. In those days, all over Europe bears and wolves and many kinds of wild beasts, large and small, wandered wherever there were trees and hiding-places; in fact, one might meet them anywhere except in cities and towns. And sometimes in winter, when they were very hungry, bold wolves prowled even in the market-places.

Gigi shuddered. He dared not think of sleep, alone in this dreadful place. He must try to find the road. Once more he crawled to his feet and began to stagger through the darkness, groping with his hands to ward off the branches which scratched his face and the thorns which tore his garments into rags.

Now there began to be strange sounds in the forest. The birds had ceased to sing, save for a chirp now and then as Gigi's passing wakened some tired songster. But there were other noises which Gigi did not understand, and which set his heart to knocking fearfully; the cracking of twigs far off and near at hand; little scurries in the underbrush as he approached; now and then the crash of something bounding through the bushes in the distance; sometimes a squeak or a chatter which sounded terrible to the little boy's unaccustomed ears. And finally, far off in the forest, came a long, low howl that set his teeth to chattering.

Was it a wolf? The thought was more than Gigi could bear. He fainted, and fell forward into a bed of soft green moss.

VIII

THE RESCUE

Gigi must have lain all night where he fell. For when he opened his eyes the sun was shining dimly through the dense leaves of the tree overhead. He remembered only the last thing he had heard before his eyes closed,--that long howl in the darkness. So it was with a thrill of terror that he felt a strange touch on his face. Something warm and wet was passing over his cheek. Something soft and warm was cuddling close to his side. He thrust out his hand feebly, groping at something to help him rise. His fingers closed in thick, soft hair. Suddenly Gigi knew what was happening to his face. Some big animal was licking it with a coarse but gentle tongue!

Was it the wolf that had howled? A dreadful thought! Gigi screamed aloud. He struck at the creature with all the strength he had, which was little enough.

"Get away! Go along with you!" he cried in Gypsy gibberish.

In answer, the animal uttered a whine, very gentle, very piteous; and it began to lick the hand which had struck it.

Gigi's eyes had now grown used to the half-light. Suddenly he saw what had lain beside him, keeping him warm all night. It was a great shaggy dog, brown and white. Around his neck was a heavy collar of leather studded with nails. Gigi did not like dogs. The only ones he knew had always chased the Tumblers and barked at them as they entered or left a village. Sometimes they had snapped at Gigi's heels so viciously that he had cried out. And then Cecco would cuff him for making a fuss.

But this dog seemed friendly. He looked up in Gigi's face, and wagged his tail pleasantly. He whined and put his nose in Gigi's hand; then he got to his feet and ran away a few steps, looking back at the boy and waiting. Gigi did not know what it meant. But when the dog saw that the boy was not following, he went back and repeated his action. Several times he did this, and still Gigi lay looking at him, too tired and too weak to make an effort, even to think. At last the dog came back once more. This time he took Gigi's hand between his teeth, very gently, and began to pull him in the direction toward which he had first gone. Then Gigi knew. The dog was trying to lead him somewhere!

A throb of hope warmed his heart. Perhaps this was a friend who would bring him out of the dreadful forest to some place where he could eat. For oh, he was so hungry! He dragged himself to his feet, and tried to follow, leaning a hand on the dog's neck. The creature was wild with joy, and began to bark and wag his tail furiously. Even this motion made the boy totter, he was so weak. He took a few steps, then he had to stop. He was sore all over, dizzy and faint. He lay down on the ground with his head between his hands. And once more the good dog crept near and poked his wet nose into Gigi's face, licking his cheek.

The boy reached out a hand and patted him timidly. It was the first time Gigi had ever felt friendly toward an animal!

When the dog found that it was of no use to try to lead Gigi on, he sat still and seemed to think for a few moments. Then he came close and crouched in the moss beside Gigi, whining softly and rubbing his nose against the boy's knee. Evidently he wanted his new friend to do something. The boy looked at him wearily, and wondered. He took hold of the collar about the dog's neck. Yes! that was it! The dog barked and wagged his tail, but did not move. He was still waiting. Gigi looked at the big fellow lying there. He was almost as large as the little donkey who bore the luggage of the Tumblers upon their journeys. He was big enough to carry Gigi himself. Was that what the creature meant?

Gigi lifted one leg over the dog's back, keeping hold of the collar as tightly as he could. The animal rose to his feet with a glad bark. Yes, this was what he wanted. He began to move forward slowly, for Gigi was a heavy burden and his feet nearly touched the ground.

Slowly they moved through the forest, a quaint pair of wanderers. Sometimes Gigi felt faint and ill, and lay forward, resting his head on the dog's soft neck. Sometimes they stopped to rest. Then Gigi lay flat on the moss, with the dog stretched out close to his side. But they were both unwilling to waste many minutes so.

IX

THE ANIMAL KINGDOM

Presently Gigi and the dog came to a clearing in the forest. All about was as wild as anything they had passed. But here, quite alone, stood a little hut made of logs and branches twisted together.

The first thing that Gigi saw, after the hut itself, was an old man in a coarse gray gown, sitting on a stump, reading a book. His head was bare, and he had a long white beard. His feet were bare, too, and he wore leather sandals. A rope was tied about his waist. Gigi had sometimes seen men so dressed plodding along the highroad or begging from the townsfolk. If he thought about them at all, he believed them to be some rival sort of performers, like the Tumblers themselves. It seemed very queer to see one of the Gray Men here in the lonely forest,--and with such strange companions! Gigi stared and stared again, rubbing his tired eyes to make sure that they saw aright.

On the old man's knees was curled, asleep, a comfortable white cat. Three little kittens played with the knotted ends of his girdle, swarming up and down the gray gown of the reader. On his shoulder perched a squirrel, busily eating a nut which he held in his little paws. Close by, a brown and white deer grazed about the door of the little hut. A great black raven hopped gravely about the old man's feet, now and then picking up a bug. Lying peacefully asleep in front of the hut door, like a yellow mat of fur, a fox was stretched. In and out among the rose-bushes of a tiny garden which was planted beneath the window of the hut, hopped several brown hares, seeming much at home. The old man's head nodded forward on his book. He could sleep soundly, it seemed, with all these little live things swarming about him. Even as his gray locks swept the page, a thrush fluttered down and lighted gently on the bald crown, beginning to sing so sweetly that Gigi held his breath.

All this the boy saw in that first glimpse before he and the dog parted the bushes and came out into the clearing. In that instant everything changed. The dog gave a sharp bark of pleasure. The old man let the book fall from his hand, and sat staring. The animals leaped from their slumbers and scuttled away in every direction, some into the hut, some into the neighboring bushes, some melting as if by magic into the forest. The squirrel and the thrush took shelter in the treetops. Only the raven, with ruffled feathers, remained at the old man's side, turning a fierce little eye upon the newcomer.

By this time Gigi had thrown himself from the dog's back, and stood feebly leaning against a tree. Released from his burden, the dog bounded forward, and was soon leaping upon the old man's shoulders, covering his face and hands and feet with eager kisses.

"Down, Brutus, down!" said the old man, in a tongue which Gigi could not understand. "Where hast thou been so long, good dog? And what new pet hast thou brought for my colony?" He looked towards Gigi with keen, kind eyes. "Come hither, my lad," he said in the same tongue.

But Gigi only stared, not understanding. He was growing afraid of this queer old man, who spoke a strange language and had wild animals for his friends; who read, too, in a great black book! Gigi had heard of wicked wizards and sorcerers, and he believed that he saw one now. He turned about and tried to run away. But his poor head grew dizzy, and before he knew it he had fallen, and lay sobbing and shivering, unable to rise.

Presently he felt the dog's gentle tongue licking his face. A moment after, kind, strong arms lifted him and bore him into the little hut. The old man laid Gigi on a cot beside the window, and after laying his hand on the boy's head and wrist, went away and returned with something in a cup.

"Drink this, my child," he said. And this time Gigi understood. He drank and felt better. Then the old man asked him in the tongue which Gigi knew, "Are you hungry, lad?"

The boy nodded, and his eyes must have told how nearly starved he was. The old man went swiftly to a little cupboard in the wall, and soon came back with bread and milk in an earthen bowl.

"Eat," he said, lifting Gigi's head on his arm. "Eat this good bread, my son, and drink the warm milk of my friend the doe, which I had just set aside, not expecting you. Then you shall sleep here on my pallet. And soon we shall be right smiling and happy all!"

The kind old eyes beamed on Gigi while he devoured his breakfast like a starved animal, without a word of thanks. When he had finished, the kind old hands brought water and bathed the tired body, bound up the bleeding hands and feet with refreshing ointment, and laid Gigi back again to rest upon the cot beside the rose-screened window.