CHAPTER XVI
TATO
When Uncle John passed through the west gate for a tramp along themountain paths he was feeling in an especially happy and contented mood.The day was bright and balmy, the air bracing, the scenery unfolded stepby step magnificent and appealing. To be in this little corner of theold world, amid ruins antedating the Christian era, and able to whollyforget those awful stock and market reports of Wall street, was aprivilege the old gentleman greatly appreciated.
So away he trudged, exploring this path or that leading amongst therugged cliffs, until finally he began to take note of his erraticwanderings and wonder where he was. Climbing an elevated rock near thepath he poised himself upon its peak and studied the landscape spreadout beneath him.
There was a patch of sea, with the dim Calabrian coast standing sentrybehind it. The nearer coast was hidden from view, but away at the leftwas a dull white streak marking the old wall of Taormina, and above thisthe ruined citadel and the ancient castle of Mola--each on its separatepeak.
"I must be getting back," he thought, and sliding down the surface ofthe rock he presently returned to the path from whence he had climbed.
To his surprise he found a boy standing there and looking at him withsoft brown eyes that were both beautiful and intelligent. Uncle John wasas short as he was stout, but the boy scarcely reached to his shoulder.He was slender and agile, and clothed in a grey corduroy suit that wasbetter in texture than the American had seen other Sicilian youths wear.As a rule the apparel of the children in this country seemed sadlyneglected.
Yet the most attractive thing about this child was his face, which wasdelicate of contour, richly tinted to harmonize with his magnificentbrown eyes, and so sensitive and expressive that it seemed able toconvey the most subtle shades of emotion. He seemed ten or twelve yearsof age, but might have been much older.
As soon as the American had returned to the path the boy came toward himin an eager, excited way, and exclaimed:
"Is it not Signor Merrick?"
The English was fluent, and only rendered softer by the foreignintonation.
"It is," said Uncle John, cheerfully. "Where did you drop from, my lad?I thought these hills were deserted, until now."
"I am sent by a friend," answered the boy, speaking rapidly andregarding the man with appealing glances. "He is in much trouble,signore, and asks your aid."
"A friend? Who is it?"
"The name he gave me is Ferralti, signore. He is near to this place, inthe hills yonder, and unable to return to the town without assistance."
"Ferralti. H-m-m. Is he hurt?"
"Badly, signore; from a fall on the rocks."
"And he sent for me?"
"Yes, signore. I know you by sight--who does not?--and as I hurriedalong I saw you standing on the rock. It is most fortunate. Will youhasten to your friend, then? I will lead you to him."
Uncle John hesitated. He ought to be getting home, instead ofpenetrating still farther into these rocky fastnesses. And Ferralti wasno especial friend, to claim his assistance. But then the thoughtoccurred that this young Italian had befriended both him and his niecesin an extremity, and was therefore entitled to consideration whentrouble in turn overtook himself. The natural impulse of this thoughtwas to go to his assistance.
"All right, my lad," said he. "Lead on, and I'll see what can be donefor Ferralti. Is it far?"
"Not far, signore."
With nervous, impatient steps the child started up the narrow path andUncle John followed--not slowly, but scarcely fast enough to satisfy hiszealous guide.
"What is your name, little one?"
"Tato, signore."
"Where do you live?"
"Near by, signore."
"And how did you happen to find Ferralti?"
"By chance, signore."
Uncle John saved his remaining breath for the climb. He could askquestions afterward.
The path was in a crevasse where the rocks seemed once to have split. Itwas narrow and steep, and before long ended in a _cul de sac_. Thelittle man thought they had reached their destination, then; but withouthesitation the boy climbed over a boulder and dropped into another pathon the opposite side, holding out a hand to assist the American.
Uncle John laughed at the necessity, but promptly slid his stout bodyover the boulder and then paused to mop his brow.
"Much farther, Tato?"
"Just a step, signore."
"It is lucky you found Ferralti, or he might have died in these wildswithout a soul knowing he was here."
"That is true, signore."
"Well, is this the path?"
"Yes, signore. Follow me, please."
The cliffs were precipitous on both sides of them. It was anothercrevasse, but not a long one. Presently the child came to a halt becausethe way ended and they could proceed no farther. He leaned against therock and in a high-pitched, sweet voice sang part of a Sicilian ditty,neither starting the verse nor ending it, but merely trilling out afragment.
Uncle John regarded him wonderingly; and then, with a sudden suspicion,he demanded:
"You are not playing me false, Tato?"
"I, signore?" smiling frankly into the man's eyes; "you need never fearTato, signore. To be your friend, and Signor Ferralti's friend, makes mevery proud."
The rock he leaned against fell inward, noiselessly, and disclosed apassage. It was short, for there was light at the other end.
The strange child darted in at once.
"This way, signore. He is here!"
Uncle John drew back. He had forgotten until now that these mountainsare dangerous. And something strange in the present proceedings, theloneliness of the place and the elfish character of his guide, suddenlywarned him to be cautious.
"See here, my lad," he called: "I'll go no farther."
Instantly Tato was at his side again, grasping the man's hand in histiny brown one and searching his face with pleading eyes.
"Ah, signore, you will not fail your friend, when he is so near you andin such great trouble? See! I who am a stranger and not even hiscountryman, even I weep for the poor young man, and long to comfort him.Do you, his friend, refuse him aid because you have fear of the wildmountains and a poor peasant boy?"
Tears really stood in the beautiful brown eyes. They rolled down hischeeks, as with both hands he pressed that of Uncle John and urged himgently forward.
"Oh, well; lead on, Tato. I'll see the other side of your tunnel,anyhow. But if you play me tricks, my lad--"
He paused, for a wonderful vision had opened before him. Coming throughthe short passage hewn in the rocks the American stood upon a ledgefacing a most beautiful valley, that was hemmed in by precipitous cliffson every side. From these stern barriers of the outside world the groundsloped gradually toward the center, where a pretty brook flowed, itswaters sparkling like diamonds in the sunlight as it tumbled over itsrocky bed. Groves of oranges and of olive, lemon and almond treesoccupied much of the vale, and on a higher point at the right, its backto the wall of rock that towered behind it, stood a substantial yetpicturesque mansion of stone, with several outbuildings scattered oneither side.
The valley seemed, indeed, a toy kingdom sequestered from the greatoutside world, yet so rich and productive within itself that it wasindependent of all else.
Uncle John gazed with amazement. Who could have guessed this delightfulspot was hidden safe within the heart of the bleak, bare mountainsurrounding it? But suddenly he bethought himself.
"What place is this, Tato?" he asked; "and where is our friendFerralti, who needs me?"
There was no reply.
He turned around to find the boy had disappeared. Moreover, the passagehad disappeared. Only a wall of rock was behind him, and although hiseyes anxiously searched the rifts and cracks of its rough surface, noindication of the opening through which he had passed could bediscovered.
Aunt Jane's Nieces Abroad Page 17
