coming towards me graciously andsmilingly.
It seemed, I learnt afterwards, that when my party discovered my loss,and affrightedly told the guide, he, being weatherwise, told of thecoming storm, and said it would be impossible to turn back; they mightthink themselves fortunate if they reached the convent themselves, whenthe monks and their dogs would do their best for me.
They had reached the convent just as the storm began, and the monks, itseemed, had but little hope for me.
I shall pass over my arrival at the monastery. I was welcomed so kindlythat I would not attempt to describe it, and as for my own party, youmight, have supposed they had not seen me for a year.
They were very willing to hear my adventures, but when I came to the twoballs of fire, and the heavy animal who had made himself my blanket,they ventured to laugh out and say I was trying to impose a traveller'stale on them.
They were still laughing when my eyes fell on my great-coat, which washanging on a chair, and I at once remarked a number of yellowish brownhairs clinging to it.
This was proof positive, and I was more of a hero than ever.
The next morning, when all of us travellers assembled for our simplebreakfast, the young monk who had discovered me--and whom I still lookup to, and I am glad he and his companions live high up in the mountainsabove us all--the young monk had a tale to tell. Out of curiosity hehad gone down to the cave, which was a very little way from the convent,and in it he had found an immense wolf frozen and stark dead, for thecold of the night had been intense.
And I am not afraid to tell you that I felt very sorry the poor old wolfwas dead, and I don't think you will think any the worse of me for beingsorry.
I went down myself to see the poor old fellow, and I declare he lookedas large as a calf; as for his fangs, I do think they would have gonethrough a deal board.
Well, and now how do you think I am going to end the story?
Why, I've got the old fellow now.
Oh no; he was really frozen to death, and didn't come to life again; butI begged his body of the monks, had him skinned there and then, broughtthe skin home and had it stuffed; and I can tell you when I come intothe room where he has a berth, and the sun is shining on his glass eyes,I often find myself giving a start, as if he were still alive and ableto eat me up.
Story 11--CHAPTER ONE.
STORY ELEVEN--NINCO NANCO, THE NEAPOLITAN BRIGAND.
Who has not heard of Ninco Nanco, the daring cut-purse, and sometimescut-throat, of the Apennines, who, with his band of fifty chosen men,has long kept in awe the district of Basilicata in the once kingdom ofNaples? Certainly, those who have travelled from the Adriatic to theBay of Naples, across that mountainous region which in the map looksvery like Italy's ankle-bone, will retain a vivid recollection of thecuriosity with which they examined every dry stick projecting from abush or rock, lest it should prove the barrel of one of his followers'rifles; and the respect which they felt for every shepherd theysaw feeding his flocks on the mountain side, lest the saidpeaceable-avocation-following gentleman should suddenly jump down,joined by many more from among the rocks, who could salute them in thechoicest Neapolitan with words, which may be freely translated, "Standand deliver! Your money or your life!" Yes; Ninco Nanco is not a heroof romance, but a veritable living, unkempt, unwashed, brown-cloaked,leather-gaitered, breeches-wearing, high-peaked-hatted Italian robber.Yet Ninco Nanco had not always been a cut-throat; for it may shrewdly besupposed that he was not born a brigand--that he did not begin life byshooting folks with a small bow and arrow when they crossed theprecincts of his nursery.
Ninco Nanco was once a Neapolitan gentleman of the _ancien regime_, whogot into trouble by running his stiletto, through a slightmisapprehension, into the ribs of the wrong man, which wrong man havingpowerful friends, poor Ninco Nanco, bitterly complaining of hismisfortune, and of the cruelty of fate in making two men so much alike,was condemned to the galleys for life. Had he killed the right man, nonotice, he affirmed, would have been taken of his peccadillo. Whilethus suffering under the frowns of fortune, he formed the acquaintanceof several personages, like-minded with himself, who spent their sparetime in grumbling against their hard fate at being placed in durancevile, and in concocting plans for revenging themselves upon those whohad been instrumental in depriving them of their liberty. There is atide in the affairs of all men--that in the affairs of Ninco Nancoturned, so he thought, in his favour. An opportunity occurred of makinghis escape--he availed himself of it, as did a few choice spirits of hisown kidney. They were compelled, to be sure, to knock three or four oftheir gaolers on the head; but to liberal-minded men, like themselves,that was a trifle. They expected soon to be provided with ample fundsto buy absolution for that act, or for any other of a similar characterthey might be compelled to commit. Once free from the precincts oftheir prison, they were among friends, and by them assisted, hastenedoff inland, nor pulled rein till they had placed many a mountain rangeand dark ravine between themselves and those who ought to have pursuedthem, but did not. There Ninco Nanco raised his standard, and preparedto set the laws of "meum and tuum" at defiance. He and his associatessoon made themselves at home in a hut, which they erected among somerocks, high up on the side of a lofty mountain, where no one was likelyto come and look for them. They only mustered nine or ten men, however,and it was agreed that their band must be greatly increased before theycould undertake any enterprise of consequence. Each of the party hadfriends on whom he could rely, so he said, to join them, but as theywere rather out of the line of the penny postage, there was somedifficulty in getting the letters conveyed to the persons with whom theband desired to communicate. Another difficulty existed in the factthat only Ninco Nanco and Giuseppe Greco, his lieutenant, could write.Their leader, for reasons best known to himself, declined putting hishand to paper; the task of inditing these epistles fell, therefore, onGiuseppe, while another of the band was commissioned to find messengers,by whom to despatch them to their several destinations.
Meantime, as gentlemen of the profession these worthies were about toadopt cannot live without food any more than those of a lessenterprising character, they proposed making a little expedition alongthe high road, for the purpose of obtaining funds to supply theirimmediate necessities. The proposal, emanating from Ninco Nancohimself, was so much to the taste of all, that it was immediately putinto execution. True, the band mustered but few men; but they werehungry. They posted themselves on either side of the before-mentionedhigh road, among some rocks and bushes, and waited quietly for whatfortune might send them. The chief injunction Ninco Nanco laid on hisfollowers was, not to fire across the road lest they should hit eachother, and rather to aim at the men than the horses, as the horses mightprove useful, while the men, objecting to be robbed, might possiblyprove troublesome. Before long, a carriage was seen approaching. Ithad a small body with a hood, and was open in front, and had highwheels. In the centre sat a man, with a chest on either side of him,the butt ends of pistols projecting from the pockets of the carriage,and a rifle across his knees. Ninco Nanco's eyes brightened. "ThePadrone has something worth defending," he muttered, raising his rifle.He fired, and the traveller fell dead. The rest of the band, not beinggood shots, missed. The postilion lashed on his horses; but the robbers(the brigands, their pardon is asked), jumping out, stopped them, pulledhim from his saddle, and commenced a hurried examination of the contentsof the chest, the keys of which they found in their victim's pocket.The dead man had been steward of the Prince Montefalcone, and wasreturning to Naples after collecting the rents on his employer'sestates. At the sound of the firing, a horseman who was following thecaleche turned to fly; but his steed fell, and he was thrown. He wasimmediately seized on, and bound back to back with the postillion, whilehis horse was likewise caught. The brigands were rapid in theirproceedings. The carriage was smashed to pieces, and its materials,with the body of the murdered man, being packed on the three horses andthe two prisoners, the robbers themselves carrying what
could not bethus transported, the whole party struck off up the mountain, theirleader stopping behind for a moment to assure himself that no traces ofthe encounter remained. Having picked up a couple of balls and somesplinters, and stamped over some drops of blood, he sprang after hiscomrades. They had reached a dark and secluded glen, with rocks andtrees overhanging, when the chief called a halt. After a littleconsultation, two graves were dug under the moss. In one the body ofthe steward was deposited.
"Now, friends," said the chief, in his mild, bland way, addressing hisprisoners, "we require recruits; are either of you inclined to join us?"
"Not I, indeed!" exclaimed the steward's servant. "You've murdered mygood master, and I hope to see you all hung--especially you, SignorNinco Nanco; I remember you in the Bagnio of Castellamare--rogue thatyou are!"
"Very well, friend, take your way," said Ninco Nanco,
Foxholme Hall, and Other Tales Page 39