Uncle John laughed at the necessity, but promptly slid his stout body
over 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 wilds
without 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 another
crevasse, but not a long one. Presently the child came to a halt because
the way ended and they could proceed no farther. He leaned against the
rock and in a high-pitched, sweet voice sang part of a Sicilian ditty,
neither starting the verse nor ending it, but merely trilling out a
fragment.
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 fear
Tato, signore. To be your friend, and Signor Ferralti's friend, makes me
very proud."
The rock he leaned against fell inward, noiselessly, and disclosed a
passage. 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 mountains
are dangerous.
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