Martha Trent - Lucia Rudini
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Martha Trent >> Lucia Rudini
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She wriggled on in the mud until she was well below the crest of the
hill, then she got up and began to run. She jumped from one rock to
the next, always keeping the two men in sight, but keeping under cover
herself. The men kept to the bank of the river and moved forward
cautiously. Lucia kept abreast of them, but stayed high up above their
heads.
It was a long walk, for the river twisted and turned many times before
it reached the walls of Cellino. But it did not tire Lucia, as it did
the two men. They walked slower and slower as the afternoon wore on,
stopping every few minutes to rest and talk excitedly.
At a little before sunset the guns grew louder and seemed to be much
nearer. All day there had been a dull rumble, but now they burst out
into a terrific roar. Lucia saw the men below her stop and look up.
They stood still for a long time, and then hurried on. Until now the
road had been deserted, but ahead at the end of a footbridge, just
around a sharp turn, Lucia, from her vantage point, could see another
figure. The soldiers could not have seen him, but when they reached
the turn of the road they both left the open and took cover in the
rocks above.
Lucia watched narrowly. They did not stop as she half expected them to
do, but crept on until they were abreast of the man. He was a beggar
to judge by his shabby clothes, and he was apparently whiling away his
afternoon by staring into the river.
Lucia's first thought was that the Austrians would shoot him. She
caught her breath sharply when a queer thing happened. One of the
soldiers picked up a stone and threw it down into the stream.
CHAPTER VIII
THE SURPRISE ATTACK
Without turning his head, the beggar picked up a stone and tossed it
into the river. He repeated this twice.
Lucia watched, fascinated. The soldiers left their hiding-place and
came down to the road. The beggar took something out of the pocket of
his coat, handed it to one of the soldiers, and shuffled off in the
opposite direction.
Lucia waited to see what the soldiers would do. She expected them to
return, but instead they waited until the beggar was out of sight, and
then hurried across the foot-bridge and plunged hurriedly into the
mountains opposite.
Lucia caught sight of their shining helmets every now and then as they
climbed higher and higher, and finally disappeared. She was undecided
what to do, but after a little hesitation she determined to follow the
beggar. Now that the Austrians were out of sight there was no need for
her to avoid the open path, and she hurried to it and ran quickly in
the direction that the man had taken. She did not know where she was,
or how far she would have to go before she reached Cellino. She had
seen nothing of the town from the mountains, and she guessed that it
was much farther away than she had at first supposed.
She walked on as fast as she could, keeping a sharp lookout for the
beggar, but he had apparently disappeared, for she could not find him
or any trace of him.
It was late in the afternoon when she reached a part of the river that
was familiar to her, and with a start she realized that she was still a
good three miles from Cellino. She was very tired and very hungry, but
she sat down to consider the best plan to follow. She knew nothing of
what had passed between the men at the bridge, but she had sense enough
to realize that whatever it was, it was not for the good of the Italian
forces.
Some one must be warned, and soon, for the speed of the Austrian
soldiers made her feel that the danger was imminent.
"I will go on to town and warn them," she said aloud to Garibaldi,
"that is the best plan, and then I can find something to eat."
She jumped up and started off with renewed energy. At a little path
that turned to the right she left the river and came out on the broad
road at the foot of a valley. It was not long after that, when she saw
the little white cottage ahead. The sight of it gave her courage.
There, at any rate, would be a human being to talk to, and bread to
eat. She ran the rest of the way, and did not pause until she was in
the little room.
The sight that met her eyes sent a sudden damper over her spirits.
Everything was upside down. The green bed was stripped of its sheets,
and all the familiar ornaments had gone. Lucia stood dumbfounded
trying to realize that Nana had really gone. A feeling of loneliness
and despair made the tears come to her eyes.
She clenched her fists and tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but
without success, the tears came in spite of her and in her
disappointment she threw herself down on the bed and sobbed. Fear got
the better of her, and in an agony of mind she imagined every possible
harm to Beppi.
But she was not allowed to stay long in that state of mind, for
suddenly the guns broke into a terrible roar. The air was black with
smoke and the house trembled and rocked under her.
She jumped up and ran to the window. Great volumes of smoke arose to
the east, and higher geysers of dirt and rock flew up into the air.
"The Austrians!" Lucia did not stop to think in her fear. She dashed
out of the house and down the road in the opposite direction from the
town. Without realizing the personal danger to herself, she ran as
fast as she could. Fear and the noise of the exploding shells sent her
plunging ahead regardless of direction.
Instinctively she took the path to the right at the foot of the village
and climbed up to the little plateau. She was directly under the fire
of her own guns, but the noise from both sides was so great that she
did not know it, and she forged ahead, shouting. In all the tumult she
could not even hear her own voice, but to shout relieved her nerves of
the terrible strain.
When she reached the plateau she climbed on up, choosing the spot
where, earlier in the day, the Italian soldiers had come from, and
slipping and sliding, but always goaded on by fear, and the knowledge
that she must tell some one about the beggar, she kept on her way.
She did not know how long she ran, or when it was that she stumbled,
but suddenly everything was black before her eyes, and the noise of the
guns was blotted out by the awful ringing in her ears. Then came
oblivion.
When she next realized anything, she was conscious of some one bending
over her and holding a water bottle to her lips. She drank gratefully
and opened her eyes. The Italian soldier was beside her, and another
man was lying on the ground near her.
"Give me something to eat," she said, trying to sit up, "or I will go
away again." Going away was the only way she knew of, to express the
sensation of fainting.
The Italian took something out of his knapsack and gave it to her.
Lucia ate ravenously, and the queer feeling at the pit of her stomach
disappeared.
"How did you escape?" he asked.
The question brought back a sudden wave of memory, and Lucia jumped up
excitedly.
"By the river road--two Austrians and a beggar--they met by the
foot-bridge, over there where the noise comes from; I saw them." She
recalled the facts jerkily.
"Go on!" the Italian's eyes flashed.
"The beggar gave the Austrians a paper, and they left with it and
climbed up into the mountains across the river. I could not follow
without being seen, and when I tried to find the beggar he had
disappeared. The river runs right under the wall."
"Oh, look!" She stopped abruptly and put her hand over her eyes.
A great cloud of fire followed a terrific report, and from the distance
of the hill it looked as if the whole town of Cellino was in flames.
The Italian snatched a field glass that lay on the ground beside the
wounded man, and put it to his eyes. Then without a word he dashed
off. Lucia followed him. A giant tree grew between two huge rocks a
little further up the mountain, and the Italian climbed up it.
Lucia watched him, and for the first time she noticed that several
wires were strung along and ended high up in its branches. She heard
the Italian calling some directions, and knew that a telephone must be
hidden somewhere in the tree. She could make nothing of the orders;
they were mostly numbers, and she waited impatiently until he returned
to her.
"Stay here," he said quickly, "and lie down flat--don't move. The
Austrians are advancing on the other side of the river, and Cellino
will fall if the bridge is not blown up."
"But who can get to it?" Lucia demanded.
"I can; it is mined. If I can reach it we may drive them back."
He did not wait to say more.
Lucia watched him impatiently as he stumbled and slid clumsily down the
rough trail below her. The shells were coming nearer and nearer, and
the air was filled with brilliant fire.
She watched the man every second, afraid to lose track of him. At the
base of the rock he fell. She caught her breath and shouted aloud when
he picked himself up and stumbled on. He reached the road and was just
starting across the little path that led to the river, when a shell
exploded so near him that the smoke hid him completely from view.
CHAPTER IX
THE BRIDGE
It was several minutes before Lucia saw him again; he was lying flat, a
little to one side of the road, and he was very still. She waited,
hoping against hope to see him move, and fighting against the horrible
thought that filled her mind.
"He is dead," she exclaimed, terrified, "and they are moving; and the
bridge!"
Without another thought she got up and very carefully started down the
descent, her mind concentrated on the bridge. She did not attempt to
go to the road, but kept to the shelter of the rocks, and a little to
one side of the fire. The shells were bursting all around her, but she
was above the range of the guns, and comparatively safe.
She hurried as fast as she could, but it was hard to keep the
direction, in all the noise and blinding flames. She did not dare to
look towards Cellino, or think what that hideous column of smoke might
mean.
At last she reached the river, and the bridge was in sight a little
distance ahead. It was an old stone bridge, and wide enough for men to
walk four abreast. At that point the river was very wide and the
bridge was made in three arches. It looked very substantial, and Lucia
stopped, suddenly terrified by the thought that she did not have the
slightest idea how or where to blow it up.
She looked about her as if for inspiration. She found it in the moving
line of men just visible far above in the mountains.
The Austrians! They were advancing, and the sudden realization of it
brought out all her courage and daring, and intensified the hatred in
her heart.
"They shall not cross our bridge," she shouted defiantly, and raced
ahead regardless of the rain of shot and shell.
But when she reached the bridge she stopped again, helpless and
completely baffled. The wall rose above her high and impregnable. A
little farther along, the window of the convent seemed to be ablaze
with light. The church had been struck, and Lucia could feel the heat
of the flames from where she stood.
The North Gate seemed miles away, and she turned to the convent. She
knew there was a door that gave on to the river bank, and she ran
forward. She found it and pushed frantically against it. It was
locked, the only other opening being a window higher up.
Lucia looked at it in despair. It was her only chance. The glass had
been smashed by the impact of the bursting shells and lay in broken
bits under her feet. She could just reach the ledge with her hands,
and the stone felt warm. The wall was rough and uneven, and after a
struggle she managed to find a foothold and pulled herself up. The
jagged glass still in the casement cut her hands, but she did not stop
to think about it. Once inside she ran along the dark corridor and up
the few steps that led to the first floor. The big iron doors were
open, and she caught her first sight of the town.
The convent was just outside, and on the road that led south a great
stream of people carrying every size of bundles, was hurrying along.
Lucia recognized some of them, but the faces she most longed to see
were not there.
She turned away, for the sight seemed to drain all her courage, and she
longed to run after them, but the memory of that moving mass of
soldiers made her true to her trust, and she hurried through the
convent, calling for aid.
At the farthest door she discovered several of the sisters hurrying
about and trying to clear the big ward filled with wounded soldiers.
They had been brought in that morning, and some of them were very ill
indeed. The sisters were carrying them out on improvised stretchers.
Those who were able to stand up staggered along as best they could by
themselves. Lucia saw one boy leaning heavily against the door, and
ran to him.
"Roderigo Vicello!" she exclaimed, when she looked up at him.
Roderigo swayed and would have fallen if she had not supported him.
"I can not go," he said weakly. "I am too tired, and I want to go. I
have watched her out of sight, but I am too tired to follow."
Lucia looked at him intently. It seemed to her impossible that a man,
and a soldier, could bother to think of a girl at such a time. She
took his arm firmly and shook him.
"Do you know how to blow up a bridge that is mined?" she demanded
excitedly.
"Yes, pull out the pin," Roderigo replied, "if it is a time fuse," he
spoke slowly and painstakingly.
"Pin?" Lucia exclaimed impatiently, "I don't understand, you will have
to come. Listen, the Austrians are just a little way off across the
river, they must not cross the bridge."
Roderigo was alert at once. The light came back into his eyes and his
body stiffened.
"What are you saying?" he demanded. "Do you mean, they are coming from
that side?"
"Yes," Lucia exclaimed, "there is no time to spare; hurry, I will help
you."
She put her strong, young arm about his waist, and by leaning most of
his weight on her shoulder he managed to crawl along. Lucia was half
crazy with impatience, but she suited her step to his, and helped him
all she could.
At last they reached the lower door. She opened it hurriedly and the
bridge was in sight, but so were the Austrians. They were so near that
what had seemed one solid mass now resolved itself into individual
shapes. To Lucia it seemed as if a great sea of men were rushing down
upon them.
The exertion from the walk made Roderigo sway, and just before they
reached the bridge he fell forward. Lucia crouched down beside him,
and begged and pulled until he was on the bridge.
"Now where is it? Tell me what to do," she begged, "see they are
almost here."
With a tremendous effort Roderigo pulled himself to the edge of the
bridge and located the mine. In a voice that was so weak that Lucia
could hardly hear it he gave the directions. Lucia obeyed.
"When will it go off?" she demanded. "Will we have time to get away?"
Roderigo shrugged his shoulders.
"You will," he said. "Run as fast as you can, I don't know how long it
will take."
Lucia did not wait to argue. She caught him under his arms and dragged
him back to the convent as fast as she could.
Roderigo had given up all hope, but as they drew nearer to the door of
the convent, the wish to live asserted itself, and he got to his feet
and ran with Lucia. They did not stop until they were safe on the road
beyond. The last inhabitant of Cellino was out of sight, and it seemed
as if they were alone.
They waited, Lucia supporting Roderigo's head in her arms.
The explosion came, there was a crash, and then a great shaking of the
earth. Lucia listened, her eyes flashing.
"Wait here," she said to Roderigo, "I will return at once." She ran
hurriedly back to the convent and down again to the door.
The old bridge was ruined. Great pieces of it were torn out and had
fallen high on the banks. The center span was entirely gone, and the
river, broad and impassable, ran smoothly between the jagged ends.
Lucia did not stand long in contemplation of the scene before her. She
hurried back to the road. A sister was beside Roderigo, and Lucia went
to her.
"It is not safe back in there," she said, pointing to the convent. "A
shell may hit it."
The sister nodded.
"It hardly matters," she replied quietly. "No place is safe. We will
take him there; he is too ill to be carried far."
Lucia agreed, and between them they carried the unconscious Roderigo
back to the ward and laid him gently on one of the beds.
Sister Francesca turned back the cuffs of her robe and began doing what
she could. As she worked she talked.
"We were all ordered to leave," she said; "but when we were well along
the road I turned back. It seemed so cowardly to go when we were most
needed. The rest thought that by night the Austrians would be in
possession, but I could not believe it."
She was a little woman with a soft voice and big blue eyes, and she
spoke with such gentle assurance that Lucia felt comforted.
"They will not come to-night," she said, "for the bridge is down, and
our troops will surely be able to force them back."
Sister Francesca nodded.
"I hope so. At any rate, there will be wounded and my place is here."
At the word "wounded," the vivid picture of the smoke-choked valley,
the shell explosion, and the still form of the Italian soldier flashed
before Lucia's mind.
"What am I doing here?" she said impatiently. "There are wounded now
and perhaps we can save them."
She did not offer any further explanation, but slipped out of the big
room and hurried back to the road once more.
The sun had set and twilight gleamed patchy through the clouds of
smoke. It was still light enough to see, and Lucia hurried to the
gate. The first sight that she had of Cellino made her stop and
shudder. The church was in ruins, and every pane of glass was broken
in the entire village. In their haste the refugees had thrown their
belongings out of their windows to the street below, and then had gone
off and left them. Great piles of furniture and broken china littered
the way, and stalls had been tipped over in the market place.
No one stopped Lucia; the town was deserted. She ran hurriedly across
to the North Gate, afraid of the ghostly shadows and unnatural sights.
At the gate a splendid sight met her eyes.
From the convent she had only seen the Austrians, the wall had cut off
her view of the west. But now she commanded a view of the whole field,
and to her joy the Italians were advancing as steadily from the west as
the Austrians from the east. They would meet at the river, and at the
memory of the bridge Lucia threw back her head and laughed. It was not
a merry laugh, but a grim triumphant one, and it held all the relief
that she felt.
But, splendid as the sight before her was, she did not stay long to
look at it. Below, somewhere in the valley, the Italian soldier of the
shining white teeth and the pennies was lying wounded, or dead, and
nothing could make Lucia stop until she found him.
The heavy artillery fire had let up a little, and the shells were not
quite so many.
Lucia started to run. She had made up her mind earlier in the day that
if she moved fast enough she would escape being hurt. She
unconsciously blamed the slowness of the Italian soldier for his
injury. She passed her cottage half-way down the hill. It was still
standing, but a shell had dropped on the little goat-shed and blown it
to pieces. One of the uprights and the door, which was made of stout
branches lashed together with cord, still stood. The door flapped
drearily and added to the desolation of the scene.
Lucia did not stop to investigate the damage, but hurried ahead. She
was afraid the light would fade before she reached the wounded soldier.
At the end of the road in the bottom of the valley she was just between
both sides, the shells dropped all about her and she stood still,
bewildered and frightened.
The high mountains on either side made sounding boards for the noise,
and the roar of the guns seemed to double in volume.
"Lie down!"
A voice almost under her foot made her jump, and she saw the Italian
soldier. She did as he commanded, and he pulled her towards him.
He was very weak, and when he moved one leg dragged behind him. He
tried to crawl with Lucia into the shell hole close by. She saw what
he was doing and did her best to help. When they finally rolled down
into the shell hole, the man groaned.
Lucia could feel that his forehead was wet with great drops of
perspiration. She found his water bottle and gave him a drink.
"What's happened?" he asked, speaking close to her ear.
Lucia told him as much as she knew.
"Then the bridge has gone?" There was hope in his voice.
"Gone for good. They can never cross it, and our men are just over
there."
"How can I get you back?" she asked. "The convent is so far away."
The soldier shook his head. "You can't. We are caught here between
the two fires, it would be certain death to move. What made you come
back?"
"To find you," Lucia replied. "I could not come sooner, there was so
much to do. I even forgot you, but when I remembered, I ran all the
way and now I am helpless."
"Don't give up," the Italian replied. "You must have courage for both
of us, for I am useless. My leg has been badly injured by a piece of
shell, and I cannot even crawl."
"Then there is nothing to do but wait for the light," Lucia was
trembling all over. "Oh, what a long day it has been!"
"But the dawn will come soon," the soldier tried to cheer her, "and
then perhaps the stretcher-bearers will find us. If they do not--"
"If they do not, I will find a way to take you to the convent," Lucia
replied with sudden spirit, and with the same determination that had
resulted in her blowing up the bridge, she added to herself:
"He shall not die!"
CHAPTER X
GARIBALDI, STRETCHER-BEARER
The long night set in, and the soldier, wearied from his long wait,
dropped to sleep in spite of the noise. Lucia's tired little body
rested, but her eyes never relaxed their watch in the darkness.
The fire kept up steadily, and at irregular intervals a star-shell
would illuminate the high mountains. Towards midnight there was an
extra loud explosion, and once more the terrifying flames seemed to
encircle Cellino.
Lucia wondered dully what had been struck. The church was gone, and
she supposed this was the town hall. It looked too near, as far as she
could judge, for the convent.
Her ears were becoming accustomed to the sound, and she thought the
fire from both sides was being concentrated towards the south. The
shells near them lessened, and at last stopped. Before dawn the
Italian stirred, and called out in his sleep.
Lucia spoke to him, but he did not answer; he was so exhausted that he
was soon unconscious again.
Lucia watched the east, and tried to imagine Beppi safe and sound in a
town far away from this terrible din, but she could be sure of nothing.
She remembered Roderigo's words, 'She is safe,' and knew that he must
have meant Maria. Surely Beppi and Nana were with her and Aunt Rudini;
it could not be otherwise.
With a guilty start she remembered Garibaldi. Where was she, and what
had become of her in all the terrors of yesterday? Lucia could not
remember having noticed her after she left the footbridge. Was she
safe in the mountains, or lying dead in a shell hole?
"My Garibaldi, poor little one, she would not understand, and she will
think I neglected her."
Tears of pity and weariness stung Lucia's cheeks. The thought of her
little goat, suffering and neglected, seemed to be more than she could
bear. She buried her head in her arm and cried softly. The tears were
a relief to her, and long after she had stopped sobbing they trickled
down her cheeks.
She fell into a light doze now that her watch was so nearly ended, and
did not waken until the east was streaked with gray. She might not
have awakened then, had it not been for a cold, wet nose burrowing in
her neck, and a plaintive, "Naa, Naa!"
She sat up suddenly to discover Garibaldi, covered with mud from her
ears to her tail, looking very woe-begone, standing beside her.
Regardless of the mud Lucia threw her arms around her pet, and for once
in her life the little goat seemed to return her caress.
When Lucia lifted her head there was a smile on her lips, and the old
light of determination shone in her eyes. She got to her knees slowly
and looked about her. The guns were booming back and forth, but their
position seemed to be changed. The Austrian guns still sounded from
across the river, but their range was much farther south.
Lucia looked towards the west. None of the guns that were there the
night before could be heard. With a throb of joy she realized that the
booming now came from the town.
"Had the Italians crept up and into Cellino during the night?" The
very idea was so exciting that she could not rest until she made sure.
She stood up and walked over to the road. The gate had an odd
appearance in the half light. She walked up the hill a little way,
rubbing her eyes as she went. Something behind the wall seemed to
appear suddenly, emit a puff of smoke, and then disappear.
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