But being men, the way we go is the only way--and a mighty bad way it is.

I should like to be buried at Sant' Angelo, Lord Count," he continued whimsically.

"It will be conveniently near; for once I go over the mountain-side, I'll swear naught will stop me until I reach the valley--a parcel of broken bones." "Steady, my friends," murmured the voice of Aquila.

"They come." And round that fateful corner they were now swinging into view--a company in steel heads and bodies with partisan on shoulder.

A moment they halted now, so that the waiting party almost deemed itself observed.