.

ON A MOUNTAIN PATH.
"Armed men, my lords!" had been Fanfulla's cry.

"We are betrayed!" They looked at one another with stern eyes, and with that grimness that takes the place which fear would hold in meaner souls.
Then Aquila rose slowly to his feet, and with him rose the others, looking to their weapons.

He softly breathed a name--"Masuccio Torri." "Aye," cried Lodi bitterly, "would that we had heeded your warning! Masuccio it will be, and at his heels his fifty mercenaries." "Not less, I'll swear, by the sound of them," said Ferrabraccio.

"And we but six, without our harness." "Seven," the Count laconically amended, resuming his hat and loosening his sword in its scabbard.
"Not so, my lord," exclaimed Lodi, laying a hand upon the Count's arm.
"You must not stay with us.